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potato-an0n · 3 years

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Part 2 of my really long oddly specific levihan now family fic no one asked for

(part 1 is right here)

Context for this: I'll be using Sophie's (aka drinkyourfuckingmilk) levihan children ocs, but made a few tweaks (here's more info on Samson and Leelu here)

Their personalities are still the same (well, I might tone down their crackhead-ness just a bit) the only difference is their birthdays, and instead of being 1 year apart, they're a few minutes apart, and Samson is the oldest twin by 5 minutes XD.

So...this is going to be REALLY long so be prepared for that.

Ok enjoy!

- Levi came up with the name Sam but Hange thought it sounded basic, so she came up with Samson.

- Levi also came up with Leighla, and then Hange started calling her Leelu as a nickname.

- Samson was a pretty loud baby as Leelu was pretty quiet, however she does get aggressive.

- Leighla once almost slapped Levi in the face when she was hungry.

- Samson makes weird noises whenever Levi is around, and he look at him confused, which made Samson giggle.

- Hange and Levi switch nights to watch over the twins.

- I can imagine Levi singing them to sleep and it actually works.

- Sometimes, Hange would watch from the door.

- Hange would ramble on and on about her experiments to the twins, despite Levi telling her they're not going to get it since they're babies and to at least wait until they can talk.

- When they take the twins outside, Samson would look around the environment they're in, meanwhile Leighla sleeps.

- Hange's parents came to visit to see the twins and offered to babysit them since Levi and Hange looked like they haven't slept, so they let Hange's parents babysit them as they catch up on some sleep.

- Kuchel and Kenny visited at one point to see the twins as well, and Kenny almost dropped Samson bc Samson wanted to be tossed.

- Levi was pissed but held back bc his mom, Hange and the twins are there, however, he didn't let Kenny carry him for awhile.

- The twins took a liking to Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Farlan and Isabel.

- Samson and Leighla would sometimes pull on Isabel's pigtails.

- They also pulled Mike's hair and Leighla would lightly slap his face. Levi was amused by this.

- They were surprisingly calm when Erwin and Farlan held them. The twins would just stare at them and then lay on their shoulder.

- Nanaba played peek-a-boo with them and they seem to enjoy it.

- Moblit was a bit hesitant holding the twins, but they took a liking to him bc they started giggling.

- Samson took a huge liking to Nifa.

- Levi didn't feel comfortable with the twins around the 104th squad until they could stand (at least) bc he's afraid either they'll break the twins or the twins will break them.

- Mikasa asked about meeting the twins when she was helping out at the tea shop and went home with Levi to see them.

- Mikasa let out a soft smile as the twins started babbling to her and tried to touch her hair.

- She would try to get them to say her name but failed every time.

- Both Samson and Leighla are pretty active babies. Once they were able to crawl, they would crawl all over the house to the point where Hange would chase after them (she had fun chasing them around though and would praise at how active they are).

- Levi definitely baby proofed the house (and the tea shop)

- Once Hange was able to go back to work, Levi would take the twin to the tea shop to watch over them. They would be in the playpen in his office.

- Petra, Olou, Eld, Gunther, and Eren played with them a lot and gave them a lot of attention.

- As they were nearing their first birthday, the twins learned how to walk (or waddle) .

-Levi would watch them from afar in strict dad mode (aka how he usually is) but later eased up a bit.

- He gave the 104th kids a VERY stern warning to behave (specifically warned Jean, Eren and Connie), be gentle with the twins and made sure that their hands are clean.

- Samson loved the attention he was getting, meanwhile Leighla felt a bit overwhelmed until Armin carried her, she started to feel at ease.

- They occasionally enjoy Connie's silly peek-a-boo face.

- Sasha ate their baby snacks "on accident."

- Jean and Eren would bicker who the twins likes more, but turns out they like Armin, and Mikasa the most.

- Sometimes Ymir and Historia will join the 104th squad and play with the twins.

- Marco sometimes like to watch them crawl around and they'd chill on his lap sometimes.

- One time, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie came into the tea shop and at first, they were confused on what's going on until they saw everyone was playing with Samson and Leighla.

- Samson and Leighla saw Bertholdt and started making grabby hands towards him.

- Bertholdt was a bit nervous, but held them anyways.

- When Bertholdt tried to give them back, they would NOT let go.

- Leighla did not like Annie. She got pretty aggressive when Annie tried to hold her at one point.

- Samson would poke Leighla repeatedly on her face to get her reaction until one time he accidentally poked her eye. She started to cry out of pain and then punched Samson in the face and he started crying.

- You can imagine how that went for Levi and Hange.

- Leighla and Samson were playing with the 104th squad and Leighla wanted Armin to carry her so her first word was Armin.

- Mikasa totally wasn't salty about that.

- The whole squad was freaking out and Armin felt honored.

- Leighla felt proud of herself.

- Levi was about to tell everyone to keep it down, but when he heard Leighla say her first word, he felt so proud of his little girl. He didn't show it, but when he took her to his office to feed her, he softly smiled at her and basically had a little father-daughter bonding time.

- Hange basically twirled her around screaming how she can now talk and smothered her with affections.

- The family was walking in the park, with Hange carrying Samson and Levi carrying Leighla. Samson spotted a butterfly and pointed at it saying bug.

- Hange started squealing "that's my boy!" and then gave a huge lecture on butterflies.

- Even though Samson has no idea what the heck she's saying, he seemed interested.

- Levi sighed, but gave Samson a soft smile and a pat on the head.

Toddlers- 4 years old

- They would make a mess in the living room bc they like to throw pillows at each other.

- Levi obviously scolded them and taught them how to pick up after themselves and where to put their toys away. Remind you they were toddlers.

- At least they learned where to put their toys and didn't scatter them onto the floor.

- They LOVE listening to Hange ramblings, especially Samson.

- She made bedtime stories more interesting, the twins looks forward to that.

- Levi would cuddle them close and listens to Hange telling them bedtime stories.

- Leighla really likes fairy tale stories, I would say her favorite would be Cinderella.

-Idk why, but I feel like Samson would like Alice in Wonderland, actually, they both like Alice in Wonderland.

- Hange would tell them the Grimms brothers version of the fairy tale classics, and although they were fascinated by it, in the long run.....that wasn't a good idea.

- Levi told Hange she shouldn't do that, but ofc, she didn't listen (spoiler, he gave her the "I told you so" look after an incident later in the future)

- Things started getting really busy at the tea shop, so grandma Kuchel would watch over them and they LOVE her, she's so sweet. She would tell them Levi's childhood stories.

- Isabel once babysat them and it was pretty chaotic. They made a blanket fort with her and they would cuddle up watching a movie together, it was so cute.

- Levi wasn't really happy that he's gonna have to clean that up but it was cute and the twins are in one piece so he let it slide.

- Hange took a picture.

- The twins liked riding on Mike's shoulders bc he's so tall.

- Nanaba would sometimes chase them around (idk I thought it'd be cute)

- One time, Hange brought her kids to her work and they wandered off.

- Luckily, Moblit found them in the lab staring at Hange's guinea pigs, Sawney and Bean.

- Moblit took them out for a bit so they can hold them.

- Hange came barreling into the lab out of breath and panicking to Moblit that she can't find the kids, only to find them playing with Sawney and Bean and Moblit.

- Hange ended up rambling about Sawney and Bean to the kids and went into too much detail.

- Nifa saw them playing with Sawney and Bean and decided to join them.

- When they go to the tea shop, Levi would lecture them on what rules to follow, things like not running around, disturbing the staff, steal pastries and don't exit the tea shop.

- Sometimes staff would make them iced fruit teas and give them a cookie to snack on.

- Connie would teach them how to do pranks. He had them one time sprinkle salt into Jean's tea and uhhh Jean spit it in Eren's face which resulted in a fight.

- Levi broke it up and was furious at Connie and the twins.

- He made Connie and the twins apologize and clean up the spill.

- He gave them a really strict lecture when they got home and uh, lets just say that was the first time they've seen Levi genuinely mad and it scared them a bit.

- Their punishment is to clean that they have to do house chores and help out with the tea cafe, they can't be with the 104th squad for a week.

- Hange bursted out laughing when she heard what they did, but stopped when she saw Levi wasn't happy.

- She could tell Levi had a stressful day, so she snuggled against him to comfort him.

- She saw the twins peaking from behind the entrance of the living room and called out to them to join them.

- They hesitantly went to into the living room and sat on the floor next to Hange.

- "What's wrong kiddos? Come here, don't be shy, it's just us."

- Samson and Leighla both squished each other on the left side of the couch and kinda hiding behind Hange.

- Hange picked up what's happening and brought the kids closer to them and gave them a pep talk.

- "Kids, I know you feel scared and guilty, but you know, even if you guys messed up, your dad and I still love you very much ok? And it's ok to make mistakes, it happens to the best of us, even you're perfectionist of a dad messes up sometimes, especially when we first got together but that's another story for when you kids are older. Anyways, the importance of making mistakes is that we make them so we learn from them and grow as people. And in the lab, we make mistakes or errors, but we don't give up, we learn from those errors and study past errors in order to find a way to thoroughly run an experiment and come to an accurate conclusion, there's this one experiment-"

"Hange, I think they get the point."

"Right, so in short, it's good you feel sorry for what you did, and it shows you genuinely care, but even though there will be times where we're going to have to be tough on you, we'll always love you ok?"

- Samson and Leighla apologized for their earlier actions and Levi apologized for yelling at them, and cue the sweet family bonding time on the couch.

This got way too long so part 3

#levihan #levi x hange #god this is really long #fuck how am i gonna do this once i finish writing my other fics #i clearly didn't think this through #levihan family

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dewykth · 4 years

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SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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cinnamon-roll-seth · 4 years

Text

Happy Medium (Part Two) || Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Part One

Request: hi! um this is oddly specific but i had this idea so... can you possibly do an imagine where rafe and the reader are dating and rafe is like super super sweet (and she makes him a better person🥺), but the reader is also jjs sister and he gets really mad when he finds out about the relationship bc he is really protective of her, but at a party or something a touron messes with the reader and rafe sticks up for her so jj starts to come around to the idea of their relationship

“Babe come on. It’s your birthday, you have to have a party!” Rafe pleaded, pacing around his room as you laid on his bed reading some fashion magazine Sarah had given you.

“No I don’t. Lots of people don’t have parties on their birthdays.”

“Y/N you’ve had a party for your birthday every single year since like forever. It’s how I had your birthday memorized even before we started dating.”

“Yeah and no offense but most of those parties ended up getting ruined by kooks. Besides, it’s not like JJ or any of my friends will even be there so what’s the point.”

“But the kooks wouldn’t be there to ruin it this time. Please, just let me throw you a fun party for your birthday. It’ll take your mind off everything that’s been going on. You can get wasted off your ass and I’ll stay sober to take care of you.”

“Promise?” You ask, looking up from the magazine.

“Promise,” He grins.

“Fine. But I require fruity drinks that are going to taste like pure sugar but still get me fucked up after like five sips. Beer is getting really old.”

“Of course. Anything for you Sunshine. Hey I gotta go meet up with Topper and Kelce about something. I’ll be back in an hour, you good to stay here?”

“Yeah. Rose was gonna teach me how to make some Greek meal that she learned how to make when she visited there, since I’m always saying I want to go.”

“Alright well, have fun. I’ll see you in a bit,” He leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead before disappearing out his bedroom door.

“Oh hell no,” JJ growls, seeing Rafe standing on the porch in front of him.

“Wait,” Rafe sticks his foot out and stops him from closing the door, “Please JJ, it’s important.”

“What the hell do you want? I thought I made it clear that I don’t want you hear. Leave.”

“Y/N‘s birthday is in two days. I’m throwing a party and I want you and the other three to come. She’s been having a really tough time these past couple weeks and I know she’d be happy if you guys came.”

“A party at your kook house surrounded by other kooks, yeah not interested. Didn’t think Y/N would ever be interested either but I guess you got your claws deeper than I thought. I trust you’ll tell her happy birthday from me?”

“Okay dude, what is your goddamn problem? I get it, you don’t like me, but Y/N is your sister. You’re supposed to be there for her but no. Instead of supporting her and being happy that she’s happy you and your friends have all been complete assholes towards her. You guys have cut off all contact and have completely alienated her because you all have too much pride and hatred for kooks to accept that she’s in a relationship with one. I’ve sat and watched for two goddamn weeks as she’s been borderline depressed, struggling with the fact that you all have disowned her. You know you guys think we’re the bad guys but you have stooped so low as to treat one of your own like complete shit simply because she fell in love with one of us. This isn’t fucking Romeo and Juliet, get over yourselves. We’re not having the party at my house, it’ll be on the beach because I know she’ll be most comfortable there. And for your information, she didn’t even want to party. I begged her to let me throw her one so I wouldn’t have to watch her be sad on her own birthday. I came here to ask you if you’d come because I know it would make her happy but if you’re going to show up acting like that then don’t bother. Goodbye JJ,” Rafe rants angrily, stepping back to exit the porch while leaving your brother standing in the open doorway in shock.

“Jesus you look beautiful,” Rafe grins, watching as you do a little spin in the party dress he’d bought you. You told him not to but he insisted and who were you to tell him no.

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” You laugh.

“As you should be because you look gorgeous. You ready to go? I told everyone to start showing up at six.” You nod and he grabs your hand, dragging you out of his room.

When you get to the beach the sun is just starting to set and the beach is already packed. You and Rafe walk through the crowd, searching for Kelce and Topper, who were in charge of protecting your girly alcohol. You clutch your boyfriend’s hand, overwhelmed by the amount of people you don’t even know shouting happy birthday at you.

“Yo Y/N! Happy birthday! Don’t worry, we got the good stuff!” Kelce shouts as you near the pair of boys, handing a bottle of pink lemonade UV out towards you. (A/N: Fun fact, I got waisted off of Pink Lemonade UV on my 18th birthday and ended up puking all over my aunt. Good times lmao. Drink responsibly kids.)

“What, no mixer?” You ask, taking the bottle from him.

“Oh we got that covered,” Topper replies, holding up an old milk jug full of some pink liquid. Pink Lemonade probably, it’s a good thing that’s your favorite drink.

“Well thank you boys. I’m honored,” You smile, pouring a generous amount of alcohol into your plastic cup, followed by some of the pink lemonade.

You continue to hang out with Rafe and the boys, drinking, laughing, and just genuinely goofing around. While pouring your fifth drink you look up and watch as a familiar group of pogues walk along the beach, through the crowds of people.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You ask Rafe, pointing towards them.

“I asked them to come. I figured you’d like it if they came. With the way JJ reacted I didn’t actually expect them to show.” He replies, looking shocked to see them.

“Can you hold this for a minute? I’ll be right back.” You give him a reassuring smile while he takes your drink.

You head for your brother and friends, planning to confront them, until a random touron steps in front of you, blocking your view. He must’ve already been there for awhile, as he’s clearly wasted off of his ass.

“Damn girl, where you headed to?” He slurs as you gently trying to brush past him.

“I- um- can you just let me by please?” You ask politely.

“Now hang on a minute,” He grabs your shoulders, “Just stay a minute. You know, you’re one of the hottest chicks I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, but I have a boyfriend. Now can you please move?” You ask again, more insistent this time.

“What a shame. Surely he’d be okay with sharing though. I mean sharing is caring, right?” He looks up and down your body hungrily, making you shiver in disgust.

“No. Get off me.”

“Don’t be so mean. I’m only trying to have fun,” He leans in so you can feel his breath on your neck. You try to squirm away but he’s clutching your shoulders so tightly that you’re stuck in place. You whimper at the pain his death grip is causing. His lips barely make contact with your skin before he’s harshly shoved off and you watch in a blur as Rafe pins him to the ground and begins to punch him repeatedly.

You blink back tears as Sarah runs up to you and wraps her arms around you comfortingly. From the other side of the fight you see your friends staring at you with wide eyes, clearly they’d just witnessed that entire thing. Rafe doesn’t stop beating on the guy and nobody really does anything to try to stop him anyway. Blood splatters the sand as he screams angrily in the boys face.

“Rafe stop! You’ll kill him!” Sarah yells finally as the guy begins coughing and choking on his on blood. She turns to you softly, so nobody but the two of you can hear, “Y/N you have to tell him to stop. He won’t listen to anybody but you.”

“R-Rafe. Baby, please stop.” You plead softly. Immediately your boyfriend stops and stands so that he’s standing over the injured touron.

“Don’t you EVER lay a hand on a woman without her consent ever again. Now leave or I will fucking kill you,” He spits, watching as the bloodied boy scrambles up off the ground and limps away.

Everyone starts going back to their partying, bored as the fight has ended. Rafe walks towards you and pulls you out of Sarah’s arms and into his own, petting your hair soothingly.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Baby, I’m so so sorry.” He whispered comfortingly.

“It’s okay,” You tell him honestly. You were a bit shaken up but you felt so much better the second you were in Rafe’s arms.

“Y/N,” JJ says cautiously, stepping towards you.

“Look man. She’s already dealt with enough crap in one night so if you’re gonna get on her ass about being with me then just go away.” Rafe tells him but JJ shakes his head.

“No. I- uh- I came to apologize. Y/N, I’m so ashamed of how I acted. You told me that you were dating Rafe and I just, I just lost my shit. But you’re my sister and no matter what I should always support you and be there for you. These past few weeks I’ve been a horrible brother and I feel so shitty. It’s just that after years of getting the shit beaten out of me by him I didn’t want to believe that you were actually dating him. I felt a little betrayed. These past two weeks I’ve expected you to walk through the door telling me you’d made a mistake, begging for my forgiveness. I was only thinking about myself. I didn’t think about your happiness and I’m so sorry.”

“JJ I don’t know what to say. You abandoned me. You turned all my friends against me. You made me feel like a bad person for being happy.” You reply softly.

“I was angry. Anger does horrible things Y/N and I’m not proud of it but I’ll admit that I got those anger issues from Dad. I know that I can never take back how I treated you these past two weeks but I want to make it up to you. Please Y/N, I know it might take awhile but I’m willing to do whatever it takes until you forgive me.” He pleads. You’d never seen JJ Maybank beg for anything in his life until now.

“What about Rafe? I know you don’t like him and I’m not going to stop dating him.”

He turns to your boyfriend, “I still hate you...but I’ll tolerate you. Seeing how you protected my sister tonight and listening to how you talked about her the other day I know you love her. That’s all I ever wanted for Y/N, for her to be happy and loved. Maybe someday I won’t dislike you so much but for now can we just agree to get along for her sake?”

Rafe nods his head, “Happy medium?”

“Happy medium.”

Taglist (I hope I didn’t forget anybody 🥺)- @butterfliesinthenightsky @copper-boom @khiaraaa-in-spacee @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @jj-maybabe @ilovejjmaybank @starrystarkey93 @outerbanx96 @delinquentstarkey @justcallmesams @starkeysgirl @yeslifeofateen @frankiebcanon @tovvaf

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx rafe #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx requests #requests are closed #multifandom #multifandom imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #obx jj

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soundofseventeen · 4 years

Text

Potential Parent Test Pt. 2 (Choi Seungcheol)

lmao i know i’m posting 2 days in a row (wow) but i’m clearing out my tabs on my computer and will forget about this but i made a part 2 bc... i’m soft okay

Part 1

You stood in the bathroom, hand over your mouth. Your mind went back to 2 years ago, the humor of the situation making you laugh out loud. Or maybe that was just the hormones. Or the excitement. Or the nerves. You weren’t entirely sure anymore, you just knew you felt all of the emotions.

And of course this had to happen when Seungcheol was on tour. (Well, it happened before that but… Oh you get it).

“Auntie Y/N!” You heard from outside, making you laugh a bit more. You looked up at the mirror, seeing the tears you hadn’t even felt on your face.

“Coming!” You called back, hearing the little pitter patter of your technical nephew running away. He just mastered the art of walking, and seemed to think running was the best option for everything. You took the test and put it in a little baggy, exiting the bathroom at your friends house. You were staying here for the last few weeks of the tour, mainly because you couldn’t stand being in your apartment alone (that and free babysitting for your friend).

As you walked into the kitchen, your friend looked up at you from the table.

“So?” She asked, slight concern on her face. She had been concerned lately because you randomly got sick periodically, and was the first one to suggest this might be the cause. When she first suggested it, you laughed, thinking she was completely off the mark here. There was absolutely no way. Then you thought about it… and did some research… and she took you to the store to get a test… And…

She let out a scream and ran to hug you as you nodded your head, causing you to start crying and laughing again.

“I’m so happy for you and Cheol!” She yelled, her own son watching in confusion. “We should try and get you a doctor appointment before he gets back! That way you know for sure, for sure! You two don’t need to worry about a thing, we have so much stuff from this little monster anyway!”

You nodded your head again, putting a hand to your stomach as she went to grab her computer. Now all you could think about was Seungcheol getting home as soon as he possibly could.

Seungcheol sighed, slightly waking up. He was so happy to be home. His eyes opened and he saw you asleep in his arms, hugging him so tightly. You were always like this when he got home, you always seemed to hold onto him just a little more, probably hoping that he wouldn’t leave again. He always chuckled when you did it, teasing you about being so clingy. The grin on his face always told you he was joking though, because you knew that he adored it as much as you did.

He let out a deep breath, looking at the little box on the table. You told him you had a gift for him when you picked him up, but by the time you got back to your shared apartment, he was so ready to just curl up and crash. In fact, that’s all he had been thinking about since they left several hours before. So, you agreed to take a quick nap first, then you would give it to him. Seungcheol was so content with how at peace he felt now, just holding you and feeling you breathe in unison with him.

Except… He did have to pee.

Seungcheol whispered a quick apology, kissing your head lightly. He slowly pushed himself out from under you, placing a pillow so you could continue to sleep. He would be back in a minute anyway. He found himself smiling at you, sleeping so peacefully, for a couple seconds, until his body reminded him on why he got up in the first place.

He stretched his arms above his head, quietly walking to the bathroom, not noticing you waking up and seeing him just walk into the bathroom.

After he did his business, he was looking in the mirror. He did look pretty tired, but still happy. He touched up his hair a little bit, smacking his cheeks a little bit to wake himself up a bit more. As he was about to leave and go back to you, his eyes landed on something on the top of the trash.

A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

Seungcheol felt his heart racing in his chest, much like it had two years ago. Then, his mind reminded him of two years ago, when he found a pregnancy test in your bathroom that had belonged to your friend. That had been such a mess, but then such a relief. Now…

Now that thought made Seungcheol deflate. A lot.

He knew that if you really were pregnant, you would have told him almost immediately. You were kind of terrible at keeping secrets. He learned long ago to not mention even birthday gifts around you, because you would spill instantly and then be so disappointed in yourself.

He exited the bathroom, seeing you sitting up on the couch now. You were watching him, worried eyes following him. He tilted his head at you, a small smirk on his face.

“I was gone for 2 minutes, I didn’t even leave the apartment.” Seungcheol laughed, you nodded your head.

“Oh… yeah.” You said as Seungcheol sat next to you again, attempting to pull you back in for a continued nap, but stopping when you resisted. “I think you need to open the present now.” You said, Seungcheol raising an eyebrow.

“Okay.” He said, sitting back up. “But afterwards, another nap. I’m still sleepy.” He pouted at you, causing you to laugh and push his shoulder.

“You are such a baby.” You joked, laughing to yourself at the irony of that comment.

“But I’m your baby.” He grinned, you again laughing at the subtle joke that he didn’t even realize he made. You grabbed the box, handing it to him.

“Open your gift.” You said, feeling nervous. Seungcheol smiled at the box, wrapped in blue with pink ribbon. You were pretty sure he would be happy, but you weren’t 100% sure.

“Cute. Carat colors.” He said, you shrugging.

“Kind of.” You watched as he undid the ribbon, carefully opening the box. You loved him, but it was always a struggle to watch him open presents, he did it so slowly as to build suspense. He finally got the box open, moving the tissue paper you had placed inside.

You saw his eyebrows furrow as he pulled out the tiny t-shirt, seeing a little Seventeen logo on the front. He looked at the back, seeing “S.Coups” and a larger 95 taking space. He blinked at it a few times, a thought flying into his head, but just as quickly flying out.

“Okay, I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I think this is too small.” He joked, looking at you. “Not to mention I already have a shirt like this. Actually, you have a shirt like this.” He said, looking at you again, this time stopping. He took in the look on your face, feeling his heart race again.

“It’s not for us.” You said, Seungcheol not missing the hand going to your stomach. His eyes widened, looking at the shirt again, then your stomach, then back to the bathroom.

“You… You mean… The pre… The test in the bathroom…” He said, waiting for any strong confirmation from you. You nodded your head, Seungcheol’s eyebrows shooting up. “We’re… You’re… We’re…”

“I’m pregnant.” You said, still feeling all the nerves. You had been nervous about this all day, knowing how he panicked last time he thought you were pregnant. Seungcheol continued to stare at you, eyes wide. He slowly looked back at the shirt, placing it on top of the box and moving it back to the coffee table. “I… I don’t really know how this happened but I guess it did and I know that-”

You stopped as Seungcheol reached over and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you just a little tightly. You felt him kiss the side of your head, hearing him almost laughing.

“I can’t believe this.” He whispered, pulling back and looking at you, tears brimming his eyes.

“Cheol…”

“We’re going to be parents. I’m going to be a dad!” He laughed, cupping your cheeks and giving you a kiss, then wrapping your hands in his.

“You’re happy?” You laughed, Seungcheol nodding his head. “You’re… You’re not scared?” You said, a little bit of fear leaking into your own voice. It was subtle, but Seungcheol knew you well enough to notice.

“Are you scared?” He looked at you as you shrugged.

“A little bit… I mean, I’m so excited but… But…”

“Hey,” He said, putting his hand on your cheek again. “We got this. We can handle this.” He smiled at you, unable to keep that smile off of his face. “Besides,” he started pulling you into him again, returning to your earlier position from your nap. “We happen to have 12 babysitters if we ever need them.” You let out a laugh, settling yourself on top of him.

“Yeah I guess that’s true.” You said, a small smile on your face.

“Plus come on, you’re going to make a great mom.” He said, kissing your head.

“You’re going to make a great dad.” You replied, feeling Seungcheol freeze, then let out a chuckle.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He said, the world’s brightest smile on his face, ready to take the second nap.

Except this time, neither of you were tired anymore.

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locktobre · 3 years

Note

You asked us to remind you that you wanted to make a post about Elina and the Summers 👀?- That PCS Anon

Oh boy I have a LOT to say, some of it actually involves Elina and some not but here we go.

Lately I’ve been feeling like I should maybe adjust Elina’s place in the Summers family, bc she... almost doesn’t have one. And a lot of that has to do with me feeling like she wouldn’t really like Earth, and since she’s pretty independent in the movies, I feel like she wouldn’t necessarily jump at the chance to get to know her biological family, especially since it involves a fair amount of travel on her part. At least to see Rip; Lucinda is a distance away, but at least she’s on the same planet.

I also don’t know how Elina would reconcile her parentage yet. I don’t want to get too far away from her canon characterization, of course, so it probably shouldn’t be too angsty... but it also can’t not affect her at all, and I don’t know where the middle ground is. So, there’s all that to figure out, and this really has to be decided before I can decide where (if anywhere) Elina really fits among her siblings. (And not really being involved is a valid choice, imo. I say this as someone with 4 estranged half-siblings myself lol.)

And that’s just where she begins. She can, and should, develop as time goes on. I’ve got stories for some of the Summers going out for decades, and regardless of what Elina decides when she’s 16, by the time she’s 92, she should probably be different. Otherwise she’s just a static character, and Elina grows a lot over just three movies (which at least one of the novelizations have within just a few months of each other), so the idea that she would never change over that long of a time is just absurd. But she’s so up in the air, I can’t really decide on an arc for her to have. It’s just a long, tedious process unfortunately bc it’s a lot of analysis to decide where she starts, and then where I want her to go.

One thing I do want Elina to do would happen when she was 33. See, for his 16th birthday, Rillian wants to visit Mermaidia. He’s really interested in mermaid history and wants to know what mermaids are like when they’re not from Earth, bc he’s heard stories but obviously never met any. Roxana wants to go too, but since she wants to become Queen of Oceana in a year and a half and that’s already a lot for her parents to process, she’s not about to piss Rip off by asking to traipse off to Mermaidia.

However, Rillian doesn’t have any such designs, so he’s ready to push the issue, and Rip is not happy.

Rip’s time in Fairytopia wasn’t... awful. It was interesting, of course; he saw a lot of things he couldn’t have imagined, and was very aware of his (probably) being the first human to ever do so. But he didn’t choose to go there, and he couldn’t leave, and the whole time he was there he was thinking about the fact that Merliah was growing up without her father (or maybe that she wasn’t, that something could have happened to her and he wasn’t there). So it was emotionally very taxing, and even 17 years after the fact, he really doesn’t want any of his family to go there. Even if it’s safe and there’s virtually no chance of them getting trapped like he did, he doesn’t want to take that risk.

Rillian’s aware of this, obviously. And he also knows that even if he’s technically an adult by mermaid standards, he’s still got 2 years left in his parents’ eyes before he can really go out and do whatever he wants. (Calissa is on Rip’s side as far as adulthood is concerned.) He could just wait 2 years and go and Rip couldn’t stop him, but frankly he doesn’t want to wait. He’s an impatient kid. So he calls in the big guns: Elina.

(Is this perhaps a shitty thing to do to your dad, knowing perfectly well how he feels? Yes. But he’s a kid and he’s going to try to get his way.)

Anyway, so then Elina shows up, and she’s very much on Rillian’s side. Fairytopia’s perfectly safe, or at least as safe as Earth is; as long as you don’t do anything stupid, you’ll probably be fine. And she’ll be there to show Rillian around on land, and she has mermaid friends that can show him around underwater. He won’t just be wandering around by himself somewhere where he could get into a dangerous situation. Elina knows about the 18 vs 16 thing, but she doesn’t really think it matters bc Rillian won’t be a kid forever, and would it really be better if he just goes in 2 years when you can’t stop him? He’s trying to work with you, he called me in here to argue for him, and that alone proves that he is taking this seriously.

At this point, Rip is very torn, bc they are technically making good points, but he’s still so anxious at thought of any of his family being there. (Including Elina, btw. But he didn’t meet her til she was already grown and she doesn’t like Earth and he couldn’t exactly tell her “abandon everything you know and come live with me, a stranger” so he’s just kept his mouth shut about it.) No amount of thinking about it being safe (even while he was there!) will really change the separation anxiety in the back of his head.

Calissa, for her part, has mostly sided with Rip bc she thinks that Rillian should wait and go on his own time. She’s not opposed to him going at all, and in fact she wants to visit Fairytopia one day herself, but she’s basically decided to wait until Rip is dead so he doesn’t have to think about it lol. (The perks of it basically being guaranteed that you’ll outlive your spouse, I guess. You can do whatever you want when they’re gone! Not that Rip would actively prevent Calissa from doing what she wanted, certainly not, but she knows how much it would kill him.) She knows Rillian won’t wait that long, but he could wait a few years more, like Roxana’s going to, since she also wants to go, but she’s gonna wait til she’s Queen and Rip can’t tell her no anymore.

But Rillian’s not the waiting type, and even if that’s a dick move, he feels like it’s also a dick move for Rip to not let him take a supervised trip to a place that he’s already been. Like, what if he wanted to go to Paris and stay with Alice for 2 weeks? Would that be fine? And if it is fine, then why not Elina in Fairytopia (and Mermaidia)? And what if I do wait 2 years and essentially go behind your back, do you really think that’s better?

Anyway, the discussion goes on for a long time, but eventually Rip agrees to a weekend trip, and if that goes well, they can think about more visits in the future. Rillian’s disappointed bc 2 days really isn’t that long, but he pushed it this far and knows to quit while he’s ahead, and he’s actually pretty far ahead. So that’s the story of how Rillian first visits Fairytopia and Mermaidia, with Elina chaperoning (and also Nori and Nalu, in the water). Big sister Elina to the rescue, for perhaps once in her life... or maybe not, depending where she ends up. But I do think that would be a significant moment, and Rillian would probably end up closer to her than anyone else bc of it. (“Closer” being a relative term, tho, no pun intended.) We’ll see.

The only other one I think of her getting close to, farther in the future, is Roxana’s daughter Ariella. Maybe. I’m still deciding what I want to do with her. But so far, that’s it. And I might keep it that way, bc Elina’s got her own thing going on and that’s fine, she doesn’t really have to be tied up with her family that she doesn’t really know just bc they share blood. If it happens, it happens, but if it doesn’t, she’ll just pop up occasionally when someone reaches out.

All my posts these days are rambles but I’m getting into the future parts of my barbieverse, which means I’m leaving canon behind so I have to decide everything and it takes me years to make decisions lmao

#mel irl #barbie babbles #summers clan blogging #anonymous #thanks for asking

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janiedean · 4 years

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JB THE MUSICAL TENTATIVE SETLIST

... so this week me and a few anons were discussing crack plots and THIS came up, and now I sat down and I thought about it and hahaha here we go guys have what I came up with for the possible mamma mia!jb au except that it has springsteen songs instead of ABBA because that’s how I roll. this is the tag if anyone’s interested in what madness came out of that, but anyway I did come up with a plot with songs so here’s the thing.

the musical is obviously called tunnel of love because reasons.

people actually in it: brienne, jaime, their OC daughter [catelyn jr for this exercise], catelyn, tyrion, jon connington, loras, brynden tully, possibly selwyn

plot, numbers & so on:

ACT ONE

in pure rent style because I’m that bad with musical, we open with all everyone minor characters; save my love;

the scene opens in the island of tarth, where brienne is shown working at a bar covered in rock singers’ posters and getting helped by her seven year old daughter in the background cleaning tables or something, while her boss catelyn looks at her and tells her story; a good man is hard to find (pittsburgh) [obv with reworked lyrics];

cat jr goes back upstairs since they’re about to open, brienne asks for a small break, goes out on the beach, stares longingly at the ocean and wishes to have back the happiness she had once that while she loves her daughter she hasn’t quite managed to grasp yet though we still don’t know what it’s about; hello sunshine

brienne goes back to work, we move to cat jr - she wonders where her father ended up since brienne never told her who he was while she rustles through stuff in the attic and finds some half-faded letters sent to a couple men years ago and she wonders if one of them might be her father - she finds the addresses and writes them figuring that one of them might be and she wants to see her mother happy, so what’s the harm?; waitin’ on a sunny day;

first guy who arrives is joncon who tells her that no, he’s actually her godfather but he knew her mother for reasons and wonders at how long he’s been far from the island but he had to get over his bf who didn’t love him back; my hometown

second guy shows up and he’s renly who also confirms that he’s the other godfather and one of brienne’s oldest friends but maybe she should look a bit deeper to find her real dad and when she does things will go admittedly better - brienne will find her guy again same as he’ll find his guy at some point; two hearts;

cat jr goes back to the attic to look up for more clues and ends up finding a picture of brienne with two guys one of which was torn off but the other is there and wait he has her hair - it’s tyrion, who she assumes is her dad. she asks renly and jonc to help find the address and writes him and he gets there in time for her birthday, but when he arrives he tells her that no, the dad is actually his brother but he’s delighted to have a niece; surprise surprise;

at this point cat wants to know the backstory and why isn’t her dad there. the other three guys look at each other, sigh and tell her that well it happened years ago when they all were on vacation on tarth same as the whole of the lannister family....

IMMEDIATE FLASHBACK where we see younger jaime and brienne meeting at some beach party and jaime asks her to dance; tougher than the rest (jaime only);

she accepts even if she can’t believe it [he’s coming out of Bad Cersei Relationship News so he’s kinda fucked up but he honestly wants to leave her behind], they ended up having sex; cover me [jb duet];

later tywin finds out and forbids jaime from seeing her except that brienne who at that point wanted to be a singer and had regular gigs at catelyn’s bar comes up with a scheme to smuggle him out and have a night out with both tyrion’s help and the bar’s patrons etc; rosalita (brienne mainly + tyrion/jonc/renly + jaime getting himself dragged out of the house);

after that, they discuss running away together; thunder road (duet);

FLASHBACK ENDS, we’re back on the island where brienne finds out everyone showed up and she’s like yeah no I’m not calling him again, tyrion tries to tell her that it didn’t end badly because of the reasons she assumes, she cuts him short and says that she knows she’s going to end up alone and it’s fine, she always knew; when you’re alone;

at that point shit happened in between and renly started flirting with loras who’s another new bar patron, jonc started flirting with cat’s uncle, brienne is taking herself out of the equation, tyrion is flirting with bronn ie the local cop or something, ends up with choral number with reworked lyrics for spirit in the night, end act one.

ACT TWO

always rent style, opening number with everyone going for tunnel of love;

we open up straight somewhere else where jaime is on his own, living in some shitty small apartment having lost a hand after enrolling with the army after things went sour with both brienne and his family; born in the USA;

jaime muses about how things ended - basically cersei ruined stuff for them going to brienne and telling her about their rship and jaime had gone after her to call it quits after arguing with brienne on the beach about it but then brienne wouldn’t take his calls anymore and he never had the guts to go back. he receives a letter from tarth from tyrion who tells him he has half a chance in hell of fixing things and he hopes he can manage; back in your arms;

meanwhile on tarth cat jr is like shit this place is so boring will I ever get out of here did you three have such an interesting life until now, tyrion/jonc/renly explain her that when she leaves it’s better if she sticks to being herself rather than conforming to other people’s standards; growin’ up [all four of them]

meanwhile brienne is on her break again and is missing jaime horribly bc tyrion brought it all back and wishes she could get out of this damned impasse that her life became; badlands;

jaime arrives on tarth without brienne knowing and immediately meets his daughter and learns her middle name is actually jamie and realizes brienne named her half after him and is Overwhelmed As Fuck and swears that he’ll try to do right by her; living proof [both of them];

at that point though jonc and renly are like yeah we’re the godfathers though thank you and they all assure her that they’re going to be in her life; I’ll stand by you, [all three of them];

brienne finally learns that jaime is back and she’s not exactly that hyped because she thought he left her for c. and then she realizes he’s missing a hand and they have a heated-ish confrontation; for you [duet];

jaime is despairing that he’s ever going to win her back after she tells him he’s too late, everyone else assures him that if he goes for it convincingly he still has a shot; wrecking ball [everyone but jb];

jaime feels somehow better for that and gets his spirits back together; my love will not let you down;

jaime organizes things with cat and brynden so that evening while brienne is out serving drinks at the bar he shows up on stage like HEEEY I have to tell you something and tells her he still loves her and wants to get it started again between them; mary’s place [mainly jaime, everyone else does backup];

brienne is still like OH MY GOD SHOULD I, jaime proposes; i wanna marry you;

brienne decides that damn it she still loves him and he obviously means it so yeah sure she’ll marry him; leap of faith [jb mainly, everyone else choruses]

closing number with everyone having paired up etc with born to run.

... THERE THAT’S YOUR MUSICAL

#jaime x brienne #idk if any of you guys wants this madness on the tag but i worked too hard for it so #also: for anon vote we decided that brienne's dad owns a farm or smth and has a goose #who goes around on the premises #the goose is named bruce and has bitten off hyle hunt's clothes a lot #meanwhile jaime got a pet chicken or smth named rosalita post coming back from the war #that he totally brings with #obv bruce and rosalita will fall in love midway through act two #otp: i dreamed of you #idk how the fuck i should write this #BUT ANYWAY HAVE AT IT #jb the musical

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babybluebex · 4 years

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sunshine (rami malek)

dad!rami melts my heart so here have this i’m in my feels and have baby fever and this was originally a deacy thing but i changed it to rami bc we as a fandom deserve dad!rami now i’m rambling LOL

song: electric love by børns

word count: 2448

My hands were shaking and I could barely breathe. Rami didn’t deserve this sort of thing. He was in London filming No Time To Die, he didn’t need any distractions. His character, the villainous Safin opposite Agent 007, was so different from his usual goofy self, and he usually stayed in character because of how difficult it was to slip in and out of the role. When I told him that I was pregnant, I knew that he would drop everything and come back to me, and while that was the dream response, I couldn’t ask that of him. It wasn’t fair not to tell him, though.

I grabbed my phone and carefully dialed my boyfriend’s number, and I waited as I listened to the dial tone. The time difference meant that his day was over and I hated to wake him up from a much-needed sleep, but it couldn’t wait.

The call was answered, and I heard Rami mumble, “Stella? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, umm...” I began. “I just... Hell. I just found out that, uh... You have to promise me that you stay in London. You can’t drop everything, I can handle this by myself. Promise me, Ram.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Rami said sleepily. “What’s up?”

“I...” I began and dug my fingernails into my palms. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Rami said. “Wait, hold on. You’re pregnant?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Stella!” Rami exclaimed and laughed. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t joke, Rami,” I said with a light chuckle.

“And you really expect me to stay here?” Rami asked. “Are you crazy? How far along are you?”

“Just passed the first trimester,” I said. “I had no clue at all, I just thought it was my meds or whatever, but... Rami. We’re gonna have a boy.”

Rami’s laughter was unbridled glee. “A boy?” He repeated. “A boy! Stella, a boy... Oh, wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Why’re you thanking me?” I asked.

“Because you’re giving me a baby!” Rami said. “A boy... Oh, wow. Shit, I promised you I would stay here. Be really careful, yeah? And call Sami, he and his wife’ll help you until I can get home.”

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I know it’s late, I’ll let you sleep.”

Rami scoffed. “As if I can sleep now with the image of a pregnant you in my head,” he said. “Do you have a name in mind?”

“I was thinking Saïd,” I said softly. “Share a name with his Baba.”

“I’m Baba,” Rami laughed. “I’m a dad. Oh, goddamn it, Stella. I love you so much. So much.”

Now came the part that I was really concerned about. “I...” I started. “My family will hate it and so will yours, but I don’t wanna get married because of him. I dunno, I just don’t want that.”

“Okay,” Rami agreed. “Done. I love you so much, you know that? Filming’s gonna end soon and I’ll be home and we’ll do this together.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Rami said. “I’m gonna try to sleep, but I don’t make many promises.”

“Sounds good,” I laughed. “Goodnight, Ram. Sleep well.”

“Thank you so much, Stella,” Rami said. “Again, thank you.”

The second and third trimester passed like it was nothing. Rami got home a few weeks into the second, just in time to see my bump start to grow, and, in the middle of LAX, he dropped to his knees and kissed my belly. He was such a goof, but I loved how deeply he cared for our baby.

The press got hold of the news quickly, and soon Rami was being bombarded with questions. We decided to keep the gender a secret, only divulging that we did in fact have a name picked out. Rami insisted on painting our spare bedroom for Saïd, and we chose a nice soft blue for the walls.

My mother was less than thrilled when we told her. She was happy, of course, but the fact that Rami and I were not going to get married or even engaged vexed her. Rami’s mother was more of the same, but she came to terms with it the first time she felt Saïd kick her hand.

Rami was such a dutiful father-to-be. He helped me stand up when my back hurt, massaged my shoulders for me, always made sure I was eating enough. Every night before bed, we had a small tradition where Rami would lay between my legs with his mouth pressed against my belly, and he would whisper to his son and tell him about his day. Sometimes they would ‘talk’ for almost an hour. I watched Rami as he did this, the way his muscles flexed under his skin as he situated himself to better speak to his son, the twinkle in his blue eyes when a gentle kick came to his cheek, and how he ran his fingers through his dark curls with bemusement once every five minutes. It was still hard for him to believe that he was going to be a father, and Saïd was already a spoiled little boy, just by his father’s love.

My due date was in early June. Our sweet summer boy was only a few weeks away. I made my way into the kitchen and sighed loudly, and I said, “Rami. No, sir, not today.”

“Why not?” Rami asked curiously. He moved the pan off of the stove and came over to me and he gently kissed my messy hair.

“It’s your birthday, jackass,” I chuckled. “I’m supposed to treat you to breakfast. Or did you miss that memo?”

“Didn’t miss it,” Rami shrugged. “Just decided to ignore it. Anyway, I like taking care of you two. Making you and Saïd breakfast is the least I can do.”

I sighed. “Fine,” I grumbled. I slowly sat myself down at the table, and Rami delivered me a cup of hot tea with a kiss on my nose. The whole no-caffeine thing was a real killer but, after eight months, I had gotten used to the taste of decaf everything. I took a sip of the tea and said, “The first thing I’m gonna do once the munchkin’s out is have a cup of coffee.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Rami said. “Any specific coffee I can pick up for your first cup?”

“Surprise me,” I mumbled sleepily. My back spasmed in pain, and I clenched my teeth together. “Hi, baby,” I whispered and rubbed my belly. An aching back was always the signal that Saïd was awake. “Good morning, little man.”

“He awake?” Rami asked.

“Yeah,” I said. Rami abandoned what he was doing to come kneel down by my chair, and he lifted my t-shirt to see my belly. It was covered in dark stretch marks, but he always took care to kiss every single one every night as he talked to Saïd. He never wanted me to feel bad about any part of myself— ever, really, but especially when I was giving him “the best gift” that he could ask for.

“Hey, you,” Rami cooed. “Are you awake? Gonna kick for me?”

My back ached again, and I reached down and massaged my lower back with my fingertips. “God, this sucks,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Rami said softly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Umm...” I began and stopped suddenly. My pants felt damp. That wasn’t unusual, because I had begun to sweat like a pig during the night, but it was strange that the butt of my pants was dry and my thighs were wet. I looked down in confusion, and I pushed Rami away quickly. Jesus, I did not want him sitting in a puddle of pre-labor fluid. Not pre; I was in labor. “Fuck.”

“What?” Rami asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“My water just broke,” I said slowly. “I can’t go to the hospital until contractions are about four minutes apart, so start timing them for me. I’ll be—“ I paused to grunt at the pain. “Slightly distracted.”

“Holy shit, Stells,” Rami said quickly. “Okay, I’ll call Sami and let him know, and— Is that a contraction? Right now?”

“According to Lamaze classes, yes,” I said. I stood up carefully and took Rami’s hands, and I said, “Apparently, Saïd does not wanna miss your birthday.”

Rami laughed. “He sure doesn’t,” he said. “Tell me when the next one starts. I’ll get you some new clothes and pack a bag.”

—

I was in the hospital by lunchtime. The contractions were nowhere as painful as Grey’s Anatomy made them out to be; they hurt like hell, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t shrieking in agony. A small grunt of pain, but that was about it. I was in a private room— probably because of Rami’s celebrity— and Rami sat next to my bed, holding my hand. We had his phone tilted up and were watching various documentaries on Netflix to pass the time, and then a knock came on the door. The door opened just a peek to show a pair of blue eyes, and I grinned. “Hey, Sam,” I said cheerfully. “How were your classes?”

“I was distracted as hell all day,” Sami laughed. “I got the call from Ram before second block and that just messed up my concentration for the rest of the day. But how are you guys?”

“Good,” I said. “A little tired, but excited.”

“That’s great,” Sami said. “It’s good that you both are calm. When Rosie was born, all bets were off for me.”

I nodded. I remembered Sami being a hot mess the day his daughter was born, and the memory brought a smile to Rami’s face. “You might be waiting a while,” he told his twin. “The doctors say it won’t happen until tomorrow morning if we’re lucky.”

“That’s fine,” Sami said. “I have no problem with that.”

“Happy birthday, Sami,” I chuckled.

“That would be really funny,” Sami said. “If Saïd was born today. Three birthdays on the same day in the same family.”

“Yeah, don’t jinx it,” Rami chuckled. “Bri texted me and said he’d be coming by soon.”

“Dr. May?” I clarified, and Rami nodded. He and Brian had grown incredibly close since BoRhap, even to the point where we asked him and his wife to be Saïd’s godparents; they accepted without hesitation. “Ah, that’ll be nice. He’s such a cool guy.”

Saïd decided to make his appearance before Brian could show up. The contractions became longer and tougher, forcing a few hard breaths from my lungs, and panic began to set it when the midwife made Rami and Sami leave the room. “He’s the— Rami’s the father,” I protested quickly. “Can’t he stay?”

“We’ll get him scrubbed up and he’ll be back soon, dear,” a gentle nurse told me, but that didn’t stop my eyes welling up with tears.

Rami squeezed my hand once more before being ushered away. Soon after that, I had my epidural, and I was only mentally half in the room after that. Rami came back, all dressed up in sterile scrubs, and he held my hand and encouraged me the whole time. “Good job, good job,” he whispered to me. He brushed my hair off of my forehead and kissed my cheek, and he said, “Doc’s saying to push, Stella. C’mon, you can do it. Good, good, just like that.”

I was more aware of what Rami was doing than what I was doing. I watched a mixture of surprise and happiness flit across his face, and I distantly heard a nurse exclaim, “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” I asked. “We were told...?”

All thoughts left my head as the nurse tugged down the neck of my gown and laid my daughter on my bare chest. She was wailing, her olive skin all wrinkled up, a soft swirl of black on the top of her head. I cooed at her and kissed her forehead, and her wails died down to small hiccups. “Clara,” I whispered. “Clara?”

Rami smiled. He was crying, and he leaned down and kissed my lips. “Clara,” He said when he pulled away. “My gorgeous, gorgeous little Clara.”

Clara was taken to be cleaned and weighed, and Rami held me tightly. “You did it,” he said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I whispered. “And Clara. Clara Malek.”

“No, she’d have your last name,” Rami said. “Clara Lee.”

“No,” I said softly. “I know I said I didn’t wanna get married, but that was before Clara was a tangible human. I can’t imagine not being married to you as we raise her.”

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had, no debate,” Rami said with a smile.

Clara was brought back quickly, and she was swaddled up in a delicate yellow blanket with a knitted yellow cap over her small head. She was quiet now, her plump lips forming a perfect o as she breathed, her olive skin filled with a red blush of blood and life. I held her closely and kissed her head, and I carefully gave her to Rami. He looked down at her, a spitting image of himself, and I swear that I have never seen him more in love with anything or anyone. “Clara,” He said softly. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you, ya hear me? Baba will protect you until the day I die.”

Sami came in and fawned over Clara, holding her and commenting on her little dimpled cheeks. Sami’s wife took a picture of him holding her, then she said, “Ram, Stells, would you like a picture?”

“Sure,” I said. “I look like a mess but I wanna capture the moment.”

Rami was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed as I held Clara, burying a kiss in my messy and sweaty hair. His eyes were closed blissfully and I smiled down at Clara with every ounce of love in my body. My sweet little daughter.

Rami uploaded the picture to his Instagram after a nearly year-long drought of uploads. Hello all, he captioned it. Help me welcome Clara Habibah Malek. We were told that Clara was to be a boy and we planned on the name Saïd Christopher, but she decided on surprising us. Clara is what we came up with for the replacement for Saïd, and Habibah is Arabic for beloved child. It feels accurate, because she has a whole world of people who love her. Thank you all for supporting us on this journey, and we hope that you stay with us. Sincerely, Rami Malek and Stella Malek.

#rami #rami malek #fanfic #actor #mine #rpf

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antiquecompass · 5 years

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So this was supposed to be for Untamed Fest Day Four: Scene, but since it’s more a combo of various scenes of Jin Ling’s fight with Jin Chan and every “wait until my uncle gets here” bit, I don’t think it quite fits the fest, so I don’t want to clog up the tag. (This will happen with a few prompts just bc the whole ‘This is an AU thing’.)

Anyway, here’s a Jin Ling at Lan Academy ficlet:

Jin Ling’s path to Lan Academy hadn’t been the easiest one in terms of how long it took him to get there. He’d been homeschooled most of his life. His parents had kept him home with an entire staff of tutors for plenty of reasons–his mom’s work hours as she managed her restaurants, his dad’s travels around the world, the drama of his grandfather’s various children coming out of everywhere and trying to get to any Jin family member in order to get to the head of the family, and his family’s general mistrust of educational institutions after the one time he attended kindergarten and the school bus dropped him off at the wrong spot. (It was later revealed the bus driver was one his grandfather’s former mistresses. He’d been pulled from school and tutored at home from that point on.)

It’d been a safe childhood, with an education catered to his own interests, but it’d been a lonely one. The only friends he’d ever really had were his cousins, his cousins’ friends, and his fellow trainees in the local archery and gymnastics clubs. He’d been the happiest kid ever when his little sisters were born. Finally some other kids at the house, even if they were five years younger than him. It meant he wasn’t alone in the makeshift classroom built on their estate.

As he grew older he found he actually enjoyed helping teach his younger siblings. His sisters were like little sponges, wanting to learn everything. And while his little brother was still too young to learn anything other than that dump trucks were cool, he was going to miss teaching him too.

Everything changed when it came time for him to start high school. Or rather, he begged his parents to let him attend Lan Academy. His older cousin, Sizhui, was there now. One of his uncles was the Headmaster, another a teacher there, and two more of his uncles lived in the area. Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen, his only other close friends, also attended the Academy. And wouldn’t it look good on his college transcripts to attend such a prestigious school? Plus, they had a world renowned archery program, so he’d wouldn’t even fall back on his training. He’d be able to keep aiming for his Olympic dreams while also obtaining a world class education.

After months of cajoling, and probably the most detailed tour of the Lan Academy campus that had ever been given, plus a promise from his Uncle Cheng that he could live with him and Headmaster Lan, and could bring Fairy with him, he’d finally gotten his wish.

He should’ve known the adage, Be Careful What You Wish For, existed for a reason.

No one had told him that Jin Chan was also going to be attending Lan Academy this year.

It made for a hell of a first day.

While Uncle Xichen was kind and nice–perhaps too much of both–they’d never been that close, at least not as Jin Ling got older and spent more time pursuing sports rather than the arts. There was also, supposedly, some bad blood between Uncle Xichen and his Uncle Yao. Jin Ling had never really paid much attention to those rumors. He was far closer to his Uncle Cheng, but since Uncle Cheng had to work down in the city during the week, it’d been an awkward first day breakfast of Uncle Xichen trying to make conversation while Jin Ling barely touched his food and clung to Fairy as long as he could.

He missed his mom’s cooking. He missed his own personal archery field. He missed his dad’s warm hugs. His missed his sisters singing everything they ate before eating it and his brother building small towers with his Cheerios. He missed learning his lessons with Fairy draped over his feet.

The classes themselves hadn’t been too bad, the homework already assigned about what he’d expected. He’d been counting the hours to the lunch, when he’d finally be able to catch up with Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen, but as he walked out of his math class, crossing the path between buildings to the cafeteria, he’d run into Jin fucking Chan.

Out of all the various descendants and their kids from his grandfather’s inability to keep it in his pants, Jin Chan was his least favorite. An arrogant fuckwit who had grown up jealous of Jin Ling, he’d become an even more arrogant douche canoe as a teenager.

Jin Chan was the type of asshole who lacked in any real wit, so he liked to throw his height and weight around to intimidate people. Uncle Zhan would have called him weak to his face. Uncle Cheng wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, ghosting him with the type of glare and cold shoulder he did best. Uncle Ying would’ve politely belittled him until the point that Jin Chan would walk away in shame.

Jin Ling wasn’t yet as intimidating as any of his uncles–one day he hoped to silence people with a single glare like all of them could. Having already skipped a year, and having a late birthday, he was far younger, and smaller, and cursed with his mother’s more petite frame, than his other classmates. He’d never been particularly embarrassed of his compact form–it did wonders for him in his archery competitions and gymnastics meets. But when it came to idiotic assholes who thought he’d back down just because he was smaller than them, he knew he had three options. One: talk shit, get hit. Two: try to take them out at the ankles. Three: run for help.

Three might not have been the most courageous of the options, but it was only his first day, he was boarding at the friggin’ Headmaster’s house, and if he got detention his mother would drive up here, grab him by his ear, and drag him all the way back to Boston. Or Uncle Cheng would do it for her–yelling at Jin Lin the entire drive back home. Or Uncle Xichen would give him the I’m Not Mad, I’m Just Disappointed face. Jin Chan wasn’t worth all of that.

Jin Ling knew he was stubborn as hell, which he came by honestly, but he wasn’t stupid. And he had a deep sense of propriety. Both of his grandmothers had seen to that. Jin Chan thought he could provoke him into a brawl. Maybe if they were at his grandfather’s house he’d let it, but this was Lan Academy, and Jin Ling knew the rules.

As Jin Chan raised his fist to hit him, Jin Ling grinned at who he saw in the distance.

“Uncle!” he called.

“Headmaster Lan is his uncle?” one of the boys in Jin Chan’s gang hissed. “Bro, what the fuck?”

“He’s not his real uncle,” Jin Chan said.

“I would very much beg to differ there, Mister Jin,” Headmaster Lan said as he approached the group, his eyes not missing a single detail.

He held a brown bag in his hands that he gave to Jin Ling. “Your Uncle Cheng made a lunch for you. He was worried you’d find the food in our cafeteria not to your usual tastes. It’s one of your mother’s recipes.”

“Thank you,” Jin Ling said as he took the food.

“How has your first day been so far?” he asked, eyes cutting to the side. “Besides current events?”

“It’s gone well,” Jin Ling said. “The library is amazing.”

“It’s one of our points of pride,” Headmaster Lan agreed. He patted Jin Ling’s shoulder. “Now, go meet your cousin before he breaks poor Mister Ouyang.”

Jin Ling peered around Headmaster Lan to see Zizhen struggling to hold both Sizhui and Jingyi back.

“Praise be to Allah,” Zizhen muttered when the other two stopped struggling. He stood up, back to his full height, and shook out his hands. “I think you two sprained something.”

“Shh,” Jingyi said, slapping a hand over his mouth. “I want to see what Headmaster does.”

Jin Ling was curious too, so he stood beside Sizhui, letting his older cousin run a soothing hand through his hair, and stood back to watch the show.

“Fighting is forbidden at Lan Academy. We have a Zero Tolerance Policy for bullying. Cliques are discouraged. It is against our Honor Code to prey on the smaller and younger. Since you clearly have forgotten our teachings here, two weeks of detention for you, Jin Chan, where you will copy all of our rules so that you will not forget them. Three weeks for your friends, so they will know to find a better leader in the future.”

Jin Ling grinned with the feeling of vindication and justice.

Maybe Lan Academy wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#long post #fandom: the untamed #verse: lahl #fic: tales from lan academy #day four #my ridic writing

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julesblackthorns · 5 years

Text

bc it’s william’s 22nd birthday and i still have feelings:

he wakes up at 7:30, in the night noora shifted so that she was the big spoon and william always likes that, but also he wants to see her, so he rolls over really slowly so that he won’t wake her up. noora is a super heavy sleeper as well, so he manages, and william spends a few minutes just looking at her and thinking how lucky he is. then he blows on her face until she scrunches her nose and stretches awake.

“happy birthday,” she whispers, when she notices it’s him. and then they hug for a bit until william’s phone starts to buzz and he reaches over the check his messages (chris, the rest of the penetrators, eskild, noora’s friends, his mum), william sighs and rubs his eyes and goes back to hugging noora. “who was it?” noora asks after a few seconds.

“people being annoying,” william says.

“no,” noora laughs, tugging at william’s hair until he opens his eyes again to glare at her. “no.”

“it’s your friends wishing me a happy birthday,” william says, finally smiling.

“ah, and your friends!” noora says. “i saw chris’ name!”

“yeah yeah, my friends too,” william groans. “can we just stay hugging for a bit?”

“for a little bit,” noora agrees.

at around one in the afternoon william’s dad messages him a happy birthday. william stares at it for a few seconds and then leaves it. after a few minutes the phone starts to buzz and william sighs, grabs his phone from his desk and heads outside, this module was stressing him anyway and he’ll catch up.

“hi william,” his dad says and william replies in norwegian:

“hey, dad. sorry, i was just in a lecture.”

“oh...we can talk about university later?”

“sure. thanks for the text.”

“yes, well, happy birthday, william. are you doing anything tonight?”

“no, i don’t think so. i’m going to have a party tomorrow though.”

“ah, well that’s nice. don’t...well, i might be coming to norway in a few weeks. if you want to see me? it would be nice to see you, and noora again.”

william pauses and then quietly says, “yeah, that sounds fine. talk later, dad.”

william gets out of university before noora and he heads over to the kollectivt, where linn greets him sullenly and they play video games until noora gets back. when she arrives, william leans back in the sofa so that she can ruffle his hair as she walks past. when the game finishes, linn tells william happy birthday and then goes into her room. william offers noora the controller and they play several extremely bad games because neither of them can play before noora asks william if he wants his present now.

“okay,” william says, smirking and he raises his eyebrows as noora starts giggling and runs into her room, yelling for him to stay in the living room. he stays, and waits for five minutes before he gets bored and follows her. as he closes the door behind him, noora starts yelling, but she’s also laughing.

“you couldn’t wait for ten more minutes?”

“it’s my birthday. i want to hang out with you,” william says.

“but i hadn’t finished writing your card!”

“you can just tell me,” william offers and noora flips him off.

“here’s your present,” noora says, handing him a huge pile of wrapped square things. william opens the first one and it’s a canvas with a print of them from when their first weekend london and they are looking at each other and the lions in trafalgar are behind them and suddenly william feels a tightness in his throat and he looks up at noora who sits next to him and hugs him. “they’re for our flat.” she says and william jerks his head up suddenly because living together has been a topic that they haven’t brought up for a while and noora is smiling at him and william can’t help but grin back and then hug her even harder and noora’s laughter is loud in his ears and he thinks: this is the best birthday ever.

(side note: this is set before my other two hcs, which i haven’t got a set date for, but occur in their mid-late twenties/early thirties)

#until next year #noorhelm #noora saetre #william magnusson #skam

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daccys-blog · 6 years

Text

hello angels ! wink wink. i'm kit, i'm nineteen and i ( never fcuking learned how to read ) use them/they pronouns. to keep it short, i can be really shit at ims or blast u w/ mssgs .... there is no in between and i'm srry ! also, i have discord so if anyone wants to plot or chat on there .... BTSLetMeKnow.mp3 ..... anyway, i've been highkey in love with harry styles for like six years and i'm also very into anime and even more into kpop ! talk 2 me abt bts ? pls.

to learn all about the muse i'll be playing ( i won't promise this intro is any good .... but when have i ever been good @ intros fhsidguh ), pls continue under the cut !

Is that [ HARRY STYLES ]? Nope, that’s [ DACEY WARD ], the [ TWENTY-THREE ] year old human who is [ A PART OF ] the resistance. [ HE ] works as a [ REVEREND ]. People say that [ HE ] is pretty [ + MAGNANIMOUS ] but can be [ - BROODING ]. ( kit / them/they / mdt )

so ! joining this rp is a pretty Big Deal for me bc i get to play ward in a universe where he makes absolute sense. also for the first time. thank u. although the plot has made things challenging in regards to his beliefs, it's honestly so fresh and he can brood Even More ? thank u. anyway .... i'm kinda just jumping into this without a specific format in mind .... just hope i find it along the way ! n hope i don't make it all confusing fhiusdhfg whatever happens after ur finished reading this .... my ims r open and i am up 4 explaining anything necessary to make a plot/connection w/ our charas.

HIS PAST ///

ward was born on feb 1st, 1994 ( yes this is harry's exact birthday fsdghuih thEY'RE BOTH AQUARIUS ?? MIGHT AS WELL )

two hours after his birth, he was handed to an endless system of foster care , being removed from foster home to foster home and waiting to be processed into a new , unknown family . as his age increased , his chances of adoption decreased , and by the age of twelve he convinced himself into forgetting about the idea of having parents , and siblings , and a house where he didn't feel like a stranger .

coincidentally , the year after that he was placed into a long-term home , with a family of three other foster kids and a couple in their forties who had children that had already married and moved away - they needed the money , but that didn't mean they treated ward and the other children like emotionally neglected pets .

these foster parents taught him the word of the lord . ward had grown up around so many people , each with different opinions and views towards angels , that he hadn't formed an opinion of his own . he just felt pain from the suffering of others , and that was enough to breed hesitance when agreeing to the way angels were captured and held against their will . in one occasion , when he was twelve and hadn't been moved to his long-term home , he shared his views about disliking the way angels were treated ( because in the words of a twelve year old: "it's not their fault they were born that way" ) , and his foster dad at that time ( who had been sharing his own opinions regarding angels which entirely contradicted ward's feelings ) beat him with a broom stick to ' knock some sense into him ' . this is what resulted in ward being moved out of that home .

he quickly learned that his new foster parents would never do something like that , though . a huge part of him was relieved to learn that they were part of the resistance although he didn't know what it was at that time .

he didn't share their beliefs right away , though ... it was one thing to be glad about not being beat with a broom because he disliked the way angels were treated , and another thing to accept god into his life . so he didn't , for years .

as far as he was aware , god was gone . this is what they taught in history classes . he knew that there were groups of people which still believed that god would come back , but there was never much room for thought about them .

instead , he became an unruly teenager with massive abandonment issues . in his own quiet way he would be defiant of authority and his foster parents , thinking he owed nothing to the world because nothing owned him . nothing really owned him . not like a parent would . nothing like a real parent .

in his rebellious years , ward experienced a taste of utterly wild youth , until the cancer was detected . he didn't tell anyone about the pain because a part of him wanted it to be a sickness . a part of him wanted to die . a part of him wanted to see what else there was , or wasn't . a part of him always felt like it was living in darkness , anyway .

he was rushed to the hospital after collapsing down the flight of stairs in his house , effectively fracturing a wrist along the way . after hours of waiting for test results , the news was broken that he had bone cancer in his lower right leg -- right below his kneecap . in the end ward didn't know what to do with the information . he was both terrified and trying to convince himself that it's what he wanted . he was eighteen , about to turn nineteen .

his foster parents offered the support they could . it wasn't their obligation to pay for ward's hospital bills , or to make sure he was receiving the right treatment , or to make sure he was fine at all , but they took a bit of the burden upon themselves and tried their best to give him mental and emotional support by using the lord's word .

it was determined that he'd receive almost immediate surgery to remove the cancer before it spread any further -- and through this process ward thought he reached the lowest low with his mental health , but he hadn't been told the surgery had failed yet . that came months after .

the pain subsided for a while , just for a few months , and then it grew unexpectedly . on his next long stay at the hospital , he was scheduled for an amputation . this was both a period of a total darkness and the appearance of a blazing light . it was when he lost a part of his body but gained a powerful part of his soul when he opened his heart to god .

after his surgery , ward began recovery and got fitted with an artificial leg . it felt like a beginning , more than anything . in a way he felt like accepting god into his life was almost like being reborn , and he had to learn to walk again .

when he left the hospital , his entire focus went to studying the word of the lord . his faith grew everyday , praying to god and having the hope that he was listening , praying for his return -- learning what true desire meant .

his plans to fuck pursuing an education were replaced by the drive to get into a college and major in bible studies . he had the support from his denominational committee to become a reverend for the church he had been occasionally attending during his long term stay at his foster home to indulge his foster parents , but more recently visited several times a week to pray and attend sermons .

the church was about to close its doors due to the pastor falling ill and unable to tend to it -- there weren't many believers who could fill up the spot , and the church did close for three years while ward studied and did all of the requirements , until a new pastor had it reopened at the nick of time for ward , who right after started working there as a reverend under the guidance of his new pastor .

nowadays you can find him in the church , giving studies on the different teachings of the bible and occasionally given the opportunity to deliver sunday sermons .

HIS BELIEFS //

i wanted to include a section for his beliefs since they are a massive part of his life !!

ward has faith that god did not forsake the angels , or humans , and that he will come back . he prays everyday for his return , having the faith that he is listening .

he tries not to question god for the things that have happened , but sometimes he gets a desperate feeling in his chest that has him crying out ' why ? ' . the angels .... rlly haunt him . he prays a ton for them , but he also can't help but wonder why they fell ... why god left . why would he allow the angels to suffer as much as they have ? as much as they are suffering

it ... really fucks him up so bad . he often has breakdowns about it . there are two opposite sides playing tug of war inside of him -- one of them is the one that's winning most of the time , the one that doesn't dare question god , and the other side is one who only has small victories but tugs with the force of tidal waves that literally leave him shaking -- the secret side that contemplates whether god is good .

it burns him a li ve haha a

although that secret side of him exists , it's something he also prays about . he doesn't want to question god , or have his faith waver , but goddamn ... it's tough when he sees all of the shit the angels are put through ... it really hurts his heart so much .

that being said , he is not hostile at all toward angels . or thinks he is above them in any way form or shape . he actually worships angels , and hopes for their safety above all else . that is why he is a part of the resistance and would not hesitate to help an angel , in whatever form . he believes they are god's perfect creations that have been tainted by human sins .

regarding other aspects of his life, though: ward repents for allowing god into his life only until he needed it and not when he was at his doorstep . he repents for all of the sins he's committed in the past and for the sins he continues to commit . he no longer drinks , smokes , or parties . he also doesn't get tattoos anymore unless they're connected to god or religion , and even then , he has only gotten a small tattoos of crosses on his chest and another cross on his right hand .

HIS PERSONALITY/SMALL FACTS ///

although ward is welcoming of other people and relationships , especially in a church setting ... he can also be hesitant . he will give advice and try to guide anyone who seeks his help with the word of god , and he will listen to people's troubles and be with them in times of need ... but he doesn't do this himself . he keeps it all pent inside and really only speaks to god about what's going on inside of him .

he has a very long past of abandonment and trust issues that it's almost like an instinct to close himself away but he's trying to heal those parts of himself . just needs some time and all the faith he can have !

with that being said , if you meet him outside of the church , he can come off as very withdrawn , especially in a mundane setting . he tends to be soft spoken and serious , though he's also got some wild in him that loves to laugh and have a good time . you just kinda have to figure out how to get to it .

it's not really easy getting to know him . he's very private about his personal life and it's very rare when he opens up about something personal , unless he's talking to his pastor .

he doesn't really talk about his experience with cancer either . it was a really tough time in his life that he hasn't healed from and part of him probably never will . the only times when he openly talks about it is when he's retelling his experience of how he let god into his life .

also ! he uses a wooden cane . at first he needed it during his recovery , because it made standing up so much easier and he didn't have to lean on people or tables or chairs . then, he decided to keep the cane with him at all times after one occasion in which he supported himself on a glass table as he stood up and the glass broke and fell on his foot ........ but thank god it fell on his prosthetic foot because that would've hurt like a bitch .

so now his cane is like .... an extension of himself . kind of like how people can't leave their house without their phones , except more important to him .

he also never mentions it unless someone asks why he uses it . he'll just say he has some leg problems , and if they continue to ask , he'll wonder why they're being nosy and reluctantly say he's got a prosthetic leg . talking to people about it or easily saying he has a prosthetic leg just doesn't come to him .

going into a new topic, ward doesn't really have a sexual preference , and he doesn't have many sexual tendencies . or romantic ones . he's very unconcerned about a love life in general right now . the closest he gets to experiencing romantic love is when he's performing a wedding ceremony . he has dated in the past though , especially during his teenage years , but he hasn't been in a relationship for a few years now .

he doesn't tend to go by dacey . there's no real reason why ... he was just called ward as a child by teachers and some foster parents so it stuck around . he introduces himself as ward but doesn't really mind being called dacey ... just throws him off a bit at first , he's not used to it .

so ! i think i'm gonna leave it off there !! this entire post was pure word vomit fhiusdhf but if you have any plots/connections in mind don't hesitate to hmu , i'll be very excited about them . i'm sorry for the massive mess this was fhdsui but i'm rlly excited to get rolling !! see u on the dash/ims my friens

#winged:ooc #⦁ — › OwO ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʜɪs? — ⌜ ᴏᴏᴄ ⌟#( iTS HERE !! )#( honestly ... u dont have 2 read fhsidghu )#( im gonna jump on the starter tag probably !! )

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blairwarner · 6 years

Text

2017 wrap-up

this is essentially for the sake of posterity (so i can look back and remember things bc my memory can be shit)

2017 was one of the biggest years of your life so far.

you completed your first year of school back after taking a break for your health and the sake of your family. you also completed it at a new school. it was lonely sometimes, but you discovered your path, choosing to be an english major after one of your professors suggested it - something you are thankful for. you fell back in love with learning and have high hopes for the future - thinking of becoming a teacher.

------

your grandmother died, leaving your mom without either of her parents on this earth. the last interaction you had was when she pulled you close and felt your hair and face, as if she was committing the feeling to memory. one of the last things you heard her say as she was coming in and out was, “george, i was looking for you.” you like to think that she saw grandpa, welcoming her to wherever her soul went. father john came around a few times and led prayer. she was surrounded by family and love with singing and prayers. near the end when she was waiting for billy, mom played mario lanza for her. billy, dottie, and nina arrived, and grandma was finally ready. you sat by her side, holding her hand. everyone was there the morning she died. we were all in the room, supporting her and each other. shayna had grandpa’s eagle with her.

that same morning, you were in the elevator with mom and dad which is when they told you that dad relapsed and was going back to rehab. you had this overwhelming feeling of something for mom. a mix of sadness and anger - probably a few more things thrown in there.

the next day, plans were made for the funeral and the family ate dinner at an italian restaurant. on the way home, you got pulled over for an expired license tag. it was also the day you were asked if you would sing at the funeral. you said yes, of course.

the next day was the day when preparations went into effect. that morning, dad took you to the car place so you could get henry inspected. while you waited, you went to hardees and talked to him about being nervous about singing. afterwards, all of the girls got their hair done and mom took you and jill to get pedicures/manicures at the place where grandma liked to get her nails done. the women working that day remembered grandma - you’re skeptical if they actually did, but it was nice nonetheless. while we got our nails done, jill had her checklist, making sure the important things weren’t forgotten about.

the rest of the day was spent getting things ready, and the family gathered at grandma’s/donna’s. we were each allowed to take a scarf of hers. you took two (with permission). you also dropped by the theatre to print off the music for the singing. “they long to be (close to you)” the song grandma sang to mom when she was a baby and the song you remember mom singing to your brother. it was also the song you sang for grandma for her 80th birthday. you know it by heart.

there’s more that happened in these days such as going to the crematorium, shopping for a dress (something of a tradition now), and discussions about where dad was going to rehab. it’s hard to remember, even now, what happened when. those days are a blur.

the day of the funeral arrived. you wore a floral dress with grandma’s green scarf. you separated yourself from the family once you got to church because there was no way you’d be able to sing if you were surrounded by them beforehand. at the start of the service, you were the first family member to walk in (everyone else waited until you were done singing). the church was full. as soon as the music started, you closed your eyes and held onto your scarf. you didn’t open your eyes again until you were done. somehow you managed to make it through without your throat closing up and tears falling down. you felt something positive surrounding you. you felt taller. sometimes you think it was grandma.

the family came in, and the service started. father john’s speech was memorable. he talked about the first time he met grandma and remarked on how intently she listened. he talked about how she grew orchids and how each of her children were like orchids. she truly was the backbone of the family.

you can’t remember the rest of the day, but there was an overwhelming amount of love in the best way possible.

------

the day after the funeral was also the day dad left for his second round of rehab. mom drove him - although you had reservations about that, you respected mom’s decision.

this round of rehab was different from the last - shorter. you visited once (since it was further than last time). this rehab had a more residential feel, and was in the mountains, and dad seemed to enjoy the quirks of the program (like yoga).

a month later, he was supposed to drive himself back home (part of his therapy). you got a call from jill, telling you that something happened. on his way back, dad had a drink (most likely more than one), was arrested, and got a dui. mom bailed him out. you wanted to go back home, but you were told to stay at school.

because of his dui, dad lost his license to work. he was put into a program where they monitor him (does a breathalyzer everyday at certain hours, goes to a meeting everyday, etc). if he stays sober and follows the program, the board might give him his license back. so far, he’s done everything he’s supposed to. he seems dedicated to his sobriety - has run tattoo ideas by you that would have his sobriety date on it. he’s working hard.

------

you interviewed to teach at a theatre camp and got the job. they didn’t get enough kids, and when you found out, the summer had already begun. you rushed to find a job, and jill suggested seeing if they needed help in the kitchens at the camp that she was a counselor and camper at. within a week, you applied, interviewed, got the job, and drove halfway across the country to begin a job as a cook - something you had 0 experience in whatsoever.

------

before you left for camp, you went into a gas station, and that’s when that girl told you you look like blair, and your life was changed tbh as you were introduced to ‘the facts of life.’ it wasn’t until you got back from camp that you really got into it. i don’t need to write much about it because your blog is evidence enough.

------

as i’m sure you remember, you went in thinking you’d be getting a week of orientation, but unlike the rest of the kitchen staff for the camps, you and reece were thrown into the deep end after one day. remember when you met reece? from the start, he was goofy, and he was the first friend you made there. the second was samantha. she drove you and reece to the camp where you’d be working. she reminded you a lot of alie, and you felt welcomed by her.

for a week, you worked with a smaller crew. you would have had to do breakfast all by yourself (which you didn’t know) on your second day if it weren’t for chrissy. she watched out for you and came in after she heard that they were just gonna have you do it all by yourself even though you didn’t know what you were supposed to be doing. she saved your ass that morning. you were told that you’d be doing lunch by yourself the next day. you were hella scared, but chrissy saved you again and got someone from the culinary department to come in and help.

once the first week was over, you were able to work for your camp. it was just the high schoolers at first, so a smaller group, but everyone embraced you. you felt a part of the camp even though you were “just” kitchen staff.

soon, the entire camp was there, and you and chrissy and reece were working together now as a team. you usually did the breakfast/lunch shift (although, that always contained more to do such as snacks and prep). however, i’m sure you remember, you ended up working more than you were supposed to (remember that one 15 hour shift? you were practically a zombie. thank god for reece). to wake up on time, you’d listen to music to help you sleep (usually “she’s like the wind” and “open arms” were the songs you’d listened to right before sleeping). your favorite breakfast to make was croissants because they tasted delicious. you also started drinking your coffee black because you stopped caring at that point - you just needed the caffeine.

one of the most eventful days was the day of the christmas banquet. it was all hands on deck, and you three got the brunch out on time, and it was a beautiful spread - a full fish, nutella, croissants, multiple kinds of salads, fruit, caviar, smorbror, eggs, bacon, and more. it went on for a few tables, and it looked beautiful. however, chrissy was sick, and had to leave, so the big dinner banquet was fully up to you two. thank god reece was with you. in case you’ve forgotten, you’re truly grateful for reece. he remained calm and worked steadily. together, you got the food out, and it tasted delicious.

there are so many more memories from camp, to write them all out would take hours, so here are fragments that might mean something to you whenever you read this again:

spiderman/dairy queen with reece, pool bar/karaoke/walmart/doodles with reece, that time we didn’t have chocolate, switch to spanish, “golden girl,” katherine, aebleskiver, walking back to camp with reece, laundry, pandora, bug music, bread, norwegians made room for me, pink floral pajamas, spiderman again, washing dishes to go to spiderman, going to dq with whole crew, bruno, girls trip with nosara, day we went to the lake thing and went to that bookstore and chocolates, chopping up all those rice cakes, owning the taco stand, dancing to despacito, night we stayed up late w/closing, that time we frosted that cake badly, so many bunk changes, “you guys are gonna get married,” happy birthday golden girl, sabri, linnea, gas station, jill’s car, lavender lotion, red hands (tomato acidity), google earth game, kitchen survivors, all the cake, walk-in moments, reece prepping and laughing while you recapped your fave movies for him, the first time you put on your chef’s coat, hey arnold hat, virtual reality, no makeup.

all in all, you worked your ass off and felt true pride for one of the first times in your life. before the summer, you were feeling like you were living in the wrong life. after the summer, you felt more confident than ever before. the experience was life changing.

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on the day you flew back home from camp, you met your brother and his (now) wife, along with your nieces. you went to subway and talked for a tiny bit before they dropped you off at the airport. you both made the same comment about a taco bell. you have similar sense of humor. it’s very clear that you’re related. you need to send them their wedding gift still.

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your birthday this year was one of the best. the night before, you went to the bar with kylie and danielle and had some drinks. then, on the day of, you went to go see baby driver again (all by yourself). you felt such peaceful happiness, and the sky was golden. this is also the birthday when you got your oil diffuser.

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halloween was awesome this year. you wore your leather jacket and went to the bar with kylie and tysun (and danielle, but she left early), and then aaron came too. and you got the most drunk you’ve ever been, and that one random guy said you were glamorous, and you all went to waffle house at the end of the night bc the mcdonalds drive-thru had an odd vibe happening and the line wasn’t moving so. it was a good night.

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you made a tinder this year. you never use it, but it’s a step. again, your confidence is at an all-time high.

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mom was approved by the bishop to move onto seminary.

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you went to a kesha concert with jill, and it was so much fun. beforehand, you both did your makeup together in her bathroom (jill wore rainbow sparkles, and you did a green eye with killer eyeliner). when you got there, you were some of the first people in the venue bc jill got her tickets earlier. you found a spot behind a ledge, so you were able to rest your drink on it. you had some cider :) the preshow music was really wonderful (included “piece of my heart”). you guys were also right behind the light and sound booths, so you were able to see the color thing that’s like what you use on photoshop. it was very cool. the opening act was savoy motel, and you enjoyed them. greatly. kesha was awesome - even better live. her energy was wonderful, and there was a lot of love in the room. you and jill had a good time. you pretended to sing along bc you didn’t want jill to know that you hadn’t listened to the cd she gave you for your birthday yet. it was kesha’s stage manager’s birthday, and at one point, she called him onstage and they gave him a cake. it was sweet. after the concert, jill took you to this really nice coffee shop/bakery. you got some macarons and tea (also a lemon tart). when you got back to her apartment, you talked for a bit and called ben to wish him a happy birthday (this is also the time he told you about taco bell)

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these are only some of your memories from this year, here are some fragments that might mean something to you bc i’m too lazy to write even more out:

that girl who said your hair looked like brigitte bardot’s, shaking oaks, alie visit, curlers, meetings with professor, human rights colloquium, stability realization, fam’s help moving in, day in shakespeare with apples to apples type game (good group), mary tyler moore, MOONLIGHT BEST PICTURE, gay, thrift shopping with kylie, popsicles, whitney, early american authors, william apess, adidas, hair cut, first fanfic, sPOTIFY, lady bird with morgan, get out with kylie, guardians of the galaxy 2 (music - father and son), beauty and the beast with matt and nora, matt driving u to camp (listened to thing about churchill), watched dirty dancing for the first time, grandma said you would make a good teacher (she also said you would make a good guidance counselor), chelsea, the crown season 2, pizza after jazz with kylie and aaron and a couple of others, grocery shopping, sugar daddy, cucumber/salmon/remolaude/gruyere/onion appetizer

#using tumblr to actually blog ???#a conce pt #also tbh this is really for me to remember this year; no need to read #my blog is just the best place to store things tbh #*personal #long post //

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