#I wish everything big wasn’t spoiled for me though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goodlucktai · 2 months

Note

Are you still taking prompts? If so, could I ask for some rise!Raph and Mikey? Their brotherly relationship really intrigues me and I wish we could have seen more of it develop in the show, and I just know you would do it justice :D thanks

set pre-movie, canon divergence, in which i simply toss mikey at a problem to fix it

read on ao3

This same time last year, Mikey couldn’t wait to grow up.

Because sometimes—only sometimes—he felt like he had something he needed to prove.

It’s not that his family doesn’t believe in him. If anything, he thinks, from the lofty heights and newly acquired maturity of fourteen years old, they believe in him a little too much. Whatever he says he can accomplish, they give him room for—and if he can’t pull it off, they help him out and still afford him full credit. Mikey knows it’s just another way they spoil him, but it’s the least egregious manner in which they do, so he lets it slide.

And it’s definitely not that he ever feels left out or left behind. Michelangelo and his brothers operate on a fulcrum that turns four ways as naturally as the needle on a compass, guided by gravity and the poles of the planet and something even more intrinsic and fundamental than all of that.

Even when they’re fighting, when Mikey can’t be in the same room as Donnie without the Cain Instinct taking over or Leo goes full Mean Girls and has the cattiest-sounding Facetime with April about whichever one of them ticked him off, purposefully taking his call in the living room where they all could hear it, none of that ever lasts longer than a day. They burn bright and loud and hot, but they burn fast. Gravity keeps everything together.

Come on, gravity, Mikey thinks, holding onto his temper very carefully. Do your thing.

“I am not,” he says, for the billionth time in his life, “a baby.”

Raph looks a little nervous, which almost makes Mikey feel bad. But then he says, “That ankle’s sprained, big man. You shouldn’t walk on it.”

“Leo wrapped it up super well! I’ll be careful!”

Their resident medic is smiling a little to himself, packing everything up again to his own meticulous organizational standards. (Only Donnie truly has his system figured out, but Mikey thinks that’s because they share a brain or soul or whatever.) It’s the full kit, too, Leo didn’t bother with the emergency supplies in his belt-bag and instead opened up a little dinner-plate-sized portal that he reached through to ransack their infirmary back home.

Mikey wants to roll around on his shell in annoyance. It wasn’t even that bad!

“Sprains can be worse than breaks sometimes,” Leo remarks neutrally, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Would you rather be careful now or laid up for a couple extra weeks?”

Raph seems grateful for the input, even though he doesn’t look at Leo and Leo doesn’t look up from his kit.

Ugh. “Ugh!” Mikey says out loud for good measure. “Then I can just walk on my hands!”

It summons a wider smile from Leonardo, one of those crooked, pleasantly surprised ones. He’s so clever and thinks in circles around everyone else—not to be mean or tricky, just because his brain is as fast as Donnie’s and eats up seconds like a racecar around a Formula 1 track—that it’s fun to catch him off-guard with something totally out-of-pocket and watch that smile show up.

“The whole way back to the Tank?” Raph says skeptically.

“You bet!” Mikey has warmed up to the idea now.

“This I have to see,” Donnie says, putting his phone away and folding his arms on Leo’s carapace.

“I’ll have you know, Donald, that I walked on my hands for like two days once.”

“Believe me, Michael, I remember. I was there.”

“You tried to make spaghetti for dinner with your feet,” Leo pipes up, and giggles when Donnie makes a gagging noise above him. He’s done packing his stuff up but he’s still sitting, probably because he likes the weight of his lazy twin leaning against his shell.

Sensing no further help from that quarter, Raph says, “Mike—” but Mikey has already capitalized on his moment of indecision and flipped forward into a handstand. His foot actually does hurt a lot and his center of balance is a tiny bit skewed, but honestly he could do this for hours. He books it for the edge of the roof, putting something like a skip into his step just to make the twins laugh. There’s a shuffle and a cut-off noise that means the big worry-wart didn’t like it but puh-lease. Mikey’s safe as houses.

It’s when he clambers up onto the parapet that he remembers the fire escape on this building is the kind with the rolling ladders, not the stairs.

No one says anything behind him, letting him come to his own conclusion. Mikey would appreciate that except they’re only doing it because he’s the baby and they don’t want to upset him.

Spinning around, the concrete scraping against his palms, Mikey aims an explosively unhappy frown at all three of them from upside-down.

“I could have done it,” he insists.

“Of course you could have,” Raph is the first to say. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you could have walked to the moon on your hands if you wanted to. But you don’t have to walk while you’re hurt when Raph is here to carry you.”

He’s so earnest and sweet. It goes a long way in making Mikey forget why he was even annoyed to begin with. His brothers are lucky they’re so loveable!

With a groan he tucks his head and shoulders and rolls forward, shell bumping playfully against the edge of the parapet, and comes right-side-up sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

“Fine,” he capitulates. “But only because Raphie thinks I could hand-walk to the moon.”

“And back,” Raph says, smiling down at him. Mikey lifts his arms to be scooped up and settled in his usual spot on Raph’s shoulder.

If this was a year ago, Leo would have been right next to him, perched on Raph’s opposite shoulder and making silly jokes to make Mikey feel better. Leo loves to be carried. It was the one little brother thing his cool guy persona could never eclipse. The one thing Mikey was certain he wouldn’t outgrow no matter how old he got.

But instead of crossing the roof at a run to leap into Raph’s arms, always trusting the process, knowing they would open in time to catch him, Leo stays put. Maybe because Donnie is still resting his weight on him. But his expression is so transparently wistful and lonely for a split-second, even though his brothers are all right there, that it causes a pang of upset in Mikey’s heart.

“Hey, Lee, room for one more,” he says, patting Raphie’s shoulder.

Raph scoffs under his breath, which makes Mikey’s stomach do a surprised, uncomfy flip. Leo hears it, and his expression shutters so fast it’s almost unnatural, everything replaced by a wide, plastic smile.

“Gotta get my steps in, Miguel,” he says, shoving his kit back through a portal and wiggling his shoulders so Donnie knows he’s about to stand up. “This figure doesn’t come free, you know.”

He adds an imaginary hair-toss. Raph looks like he didn’t expect anything else. Mikey thinks he must not have seen that expression on Leo’s face.

But it’s all Mikey can think about the entire drive home. That gulf between fourteen and fifteen where apparently everything changes.

——

Something has been wrong for awhile now, ever since Pops made Leo the leader and turned their team inside out, but Mikey figured they were due for an adjustment period. Raph had a hard time letting go of responsibility and Leo had a hard time picking it up, but once they found their way back onto the same page everything would be okay. Gravity would keep them together. They didn’t know any other way to be.

Except it’s been weeks and the arguing is only getting worse and it’s not even really that much fun to patrol anymore in the first place. Mikey usually loves going out at night with his brothers, finding bad guys to beat up and getting those ninja endorphins, but he’s sort of starting to feel about it the way kids in daytime television feel about homework. He just wants to get it over with.

Tonight Leo is being a little silly. Flubbing jumps and slow to catch his cues. Once he even missed a sixteenth-story ledge and would have fallen—which was not funny at all and a bad joke to make—but Donnie’s arm shot out and caught him so smoothly that it had to have been planned. Like a trust fall! Or maybe twin telepathy actually is a thing and Donnie was just tricking them with all those printouts he handed around that one time to prove Leo wrong. Either way, Leo wasn’t actually in danger.

Mikey loves silly Leo, and played right along into his antics, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Raph was ticked off and, by the time Leo missed that ledge, fed-up. He cut the evening short and told Leo to just portal them home.

That’s when the wary little thing in the back of Mikey’s brain pokes its head up out of the ground. That’s when he realizes something was Wrong wrong. Capital wrong.

Because Leo says, “Your wish is my command, my liege,” with the right amount of theater kid gusto, and that’s normal. He summons a pretty spinning blue portal as tall as Raph stood at the shoulder and hops through first, leaving Raph to make a hissing noise against his teeth and duck his head to follow, and that’s normal. Mikey glances over at Donnie, who doesn’t look up from where his snout is buried in his phone to wave Mikey ahead of him, and that’s normal, too.

It’s easy to take for granted how amazing Leo’s portals are. With two steps, Mikey walks off a cool rooftop in Brooklyn and into their warmly lit living room. He can hear Pops’ telenovelas from the projector room and smell the beef burgundy he’d left to simmer on the stove for dinner.

And distracted as he is, listening to the familiar rising and falling cadence of Raph’s worn-out lecture about responsibility and watching the pretend-listening bob of Leo’s head, Mikey still sees it when the portal wobbles as Don steps through.

Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, except Leo’s face goes white and his whole body stills, and the coloring of his stripes starts to tinge toward neon like his ninpo is about to light up.

And that’s not normal at all.

It was just a split-second of destabilization, and Donnie moves through it just fine, but Leo holds his breath and keeps the portal open until his twin is right beside him.

“This is literally what I’m talking about,” Raph says, that worried wrinkle in his brow deeper than ever. “Leo please listen when I talk just this once. If you’re not paying attention someone could get hurt. What if the portal just then had—”

“Woah, did you hear that?” Leo says right over him, cupping a hand at the side of his head as if to listen for something. “There’s another super riveting lecture about everything I do wrong happening in my room. I’m gonna catch that one instead. Thanks for this, though.”

He slips away as easily as if he was part eel instead of turtle and books it out of the living room in a way that manages to look like a casual saunter instead of the full-steam retreat it actually is.

Raph looks stunned at the blatant dismissal, and then hurt, and then it all boils together into something furious. He’s never actually angry with them. It’s just that he cares so, so much and sometimes he has nowhere to put it. Sometimes it becomes something too big for him to hold.

Right in that moment, he seems ready to grab Leo and rattle him until he ran out of nonsense and had no choice but to listen.

“I’ll handle this one, Raphala,” Donnie says abruptly. “I’m the one who almost got spliced, so I’m the one who gets to have the first opinion about it.”

Since the twins’ whole schtick is getting each other into and out of trouble with very little regard for anything else, Raph looks reasonably skeptical of him ‘handling’ it. But Don is already following Leo out of the room, and the potential of another argument is removed neatly by his exit.

Raph deflates a little bit. He’s the biggest strongest person Mikey knows, but suddenly he looks small.

“Hey, Raphie, wanna help me dish up dinner?” Mikey says, smiling up at him. Anxious to banish that uncharacteristic smallness with the full force of his own personality if that’s what it takes. “You take dad his plate and I’ll wrangle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lee.”

Raph smiles back at him, at least, and carefully carries two big servings of stew served over garlic mashed potatoes to the projector room. Pops will probably rope him into watching his shows and maybe Raph will actually take a minute to relax when it’s just him and dad and hearty comfort food and bad TV.

Mikey ladles up two more bowls and takes a couple of individually-wrapped Gansito snack cakes out of his stash for good measure. It’s a sweet treat kind of night, he thinks. He’ll have to remember to get one for Raphie, too.

Leo’s room is empty, and so is Donnie’s. Since Mikey doesn’t know where any of Leo’s secret hiding places are in their new lair, he only hesitates for a second before checking the lab.

Oh, Mikey thinks, holding the tray in numb hands. Something is Wrong.

The twins are both on the sofa that got shoved into the corner of the room as a compromise to Don’s occasional all-nighters, turtle-piled under a weighted blanket. Leo’s wearing noise-canceling headphones, using Don’s leathery carapace as a pillow. His mask is dangling from one sleep-loose hand, so the big dark circles under his eyes stand out on his pale face.

Donnie’s still awake, tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t look up at the doorway that Mikey is standing in, but he does use one hand to sign a subtle, silent “no.” No talking? No company? Probably both.

Swallowing hard, Mikey lifts the tray he’s holding up a little higher. That does get Don to look at him, and his second-oldest brother softens at whatever Mikey’s face must look like. He nods toward the desk, and signs, “Thanks, M. We’ll eat before it gets cold.”

The only thing Mikey wants in the entire world at this moment is to crawl onto the sofa with them. He would probably get away with it, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time in his entire life he wasn’t truly welcome in a turtle pile. But Donnie said no. And Leo looks so tired.

He puts the tray on the desk, ninja-quiet, and leaves again without a whisper.

His phone chimes in his pocket once he’s out the door, and he pulls it out to find a text from Don that says He’ll be okay, Angelo. He just needs to get some sleep.

Leo’s relationship with sleep has always been hot-and-cold. Usually he’s pretty honest about it when it gets bad, in the sense that he lets them see how exhausted he is instead of hiding it behind a goofy, cocky exterior.

Remembering that missed ledge from earlier tonight causes ice to form in Mikey’s stomach. That wasn’t a trust fall at all, was it?

Biting his lip, Mikey sends back, Would a visit from Dr. Feelings help?

The typing dots appear, but only for a second. The reply comes swiftly: Not this time.

——

That night Mikey tosses and turns for an hour before finally pulling a move he hasn’t in ages and slinking over to Raph’s room. He lingers uncertainly in the open door, because he doesn’t know how little you have to be to be allowed to crawl into Raphie’s nest and let him hug the world all better. Mikey had thought that was a forever thing, but he can’t get Leo’s face on the rooftop out of his head.

Raph is still awake, playing on his Switch, and notices the shadow that passes in front of the doorway instantly. He sets his game down and lifts one arm in automatic welcome and Mikey crosses the room at a run and slams into the embrace as if it’s an offer that might expire.

And it might. Mikey had never really thought it would before.

“Hey, big man,” Raph says, his voice a comforting rumble that rights all wrongs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mikey nods, and picks at a loose thread in the pink comforter, and then says, “Will you still carry me when I’m fifteen?”

“What? Of course I will.”

“What about sixteen?”

“You’re never gonna be too big for Raph to carry, Mike. I’ll always be the biggest, big enough to haul you bozos around whether you like it or not.”

Some frightened little creature inside Mikey’s chest loosens the grip it has on his heart with its teeth. But it doesn’t fully let go. And Mikey can’t help but ask, “What if we argue a lot and stop being friends?”

The idea of not being friends with his brother is enough on its own to make him want to burst into tears. He has no idea how Leo isn’t just constantly bawling. Then he remembers the circles under Leo’s eyes that don’t show when he’s wearing his mask and the way Donnie always follows him out of the room now. And he thinks it’s silly of him to forget that pain shows itself differently from one person to the next.

Hurt chases understanding across Raph’s expression, and he squeezes Mikey a little tighter to his plastron.

“I’ll love you no matter what, Angie. You and Leo and Don are forever for me, okay? If the world ends tomorrow, I’ll still be somewhere, loving my little brothers. It’s too big to just disappear.”

Mikey is fourteen years old and too old to be coddled anymore but not too old that he doesn’t trust in Raphael with his entire heart and then some. If Raph believes Mikey could walk to the moon and back, Mikey believes his biggest brother could lift up the whole sky and hold it for as long as he wanted to, if he wanted to.

Laying there under the warm pink blanket, with Raph’s twinkling nightlight in the corner and the sound of dad’s TV down the hall, Mikey thinks about things that last forever, things you can never outgrow—inside jokes between siblings, skilled hands wrapping sprained ankles, a door standing open in the dark in case you couldn’t sleep.

Then he thinks about those looks on Raph’s and Leo’s faces when they thought no one was watching. How lonely they’ve both been without their best friend on their team.

“Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” he asks before he can think better of it. “Scoop Leo.”

“Mikey…” Raph sighs, not wanting to say what Mikey already knows he’s thinking. That Leo would hate it, that it would cause another argument, that he doesn’t want to fight first thing tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to fight at all.

“Don’t—don’t do it like you’re mad,” Mikey adds quickly, heart thumping. “Like you caught him sneaking out or you need to keep him in one place so dad can check his stitches but he keeps slipping away like a buttered noodle. Do it like—like you missed him. Pretend he’s been gone for a long time and he just got home. And you’re happy to see him.”

Once Leo went away with April to an overnight camp. It was a nerd camp, he’d said gleefully, bright eyes scanning the brochure, and there was a chess league! April’s mom was a volunteer organizer and promised Splinter that it was a relatively small, local event, and that Leo would be safe.

It was the longest the brothers had ever been apart before. Even though they texted and video called near-constantly, by the end of the week it had felt like they’d misplaced a limb somewhere. When Leo finally swanned into the lair he had bags of souvenirs for all of them and a hundred stories to tell and the first thing he did was drop everything and run straight into Raph’s open arms. The way he always does. The first thing he always does.

Raph is looking at Mikey in the semi-dark with unreadable eyes. It takes a minute, seconds crawling by so slowly Mikey starts to worry Raph will say no. He builds up all these new fears, a subdivision development springing up where problems will live in rows of cookie-cutter houses and pay outrageous mortgages and never truly go away again.

But then Raphie says, “Alright, Ange. But you’re dealing with the fallout.”

He sounds very tired, and a little like he’s just humoring someone who doesn’t know better, but a win is a win.

The next day, when Leo is the last to wander into the kitchen even though he was probably the first one awake, and does that thing where he manages to not look a single person in the eye while otherwise acting totally normal, Raph frowns at him.

Mikey can tell it’s concern. He thinks Leo expects it to be something else, and manages to find whatever he’s looking for even if it’s not really there.

But then Raphael glances over at Mikey, and Mikey holds out his arms and mimes a big scoop. Setting his jaw as though he’s about to go head-to-head with the Shredder again, Raph scoots his chair back from the table, rounds it, and then lifts Leo clean off his feet.

Leo’s eyes are huge and he squirms like a hooked fish, but then Raph says, all bright and charming, “Look what the goat-man dragged in! How’d you sleep, champ?”

“Fine,” the slider says cautiously, slowing his escape attempts, but still looking like he half-expects this to be a trap. When Raph hums and nothing else happens, some little piece of his guard goes down and he adds, “Good. Slept, um, right through my alarm actually. Was worried I was gonna miss Chef Miguel’s magic.”

“Yeah? If you’re still feeling tired after breakfast, you should catch another nap. You know Raph worries.”

They’re each braced for the other to hurt their feelings. But being inside Raph’s arms when he wants to hold you is the best place in the whole world to be. Nothing bad exists and nothing has the power to make you feel small or ugly or scared. It’s just you and this big guy who loves you, who loves to carry you.

For the first time in weeks, Leo’s plastic smile wobbles and slips. He blinks and his eyes get wet and he reaches up to sling his arms around his big brother’s neck. The way to get inside Leo’s head, past all the anxieties, past that constant guard, is to hold him and sound happy to see him. He wants so badly to be wanted. Mikey can’t understand how someone as smart as Leo doesn’t know that he already is.

“I know,” Leo chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Raph couldn’t have looked more stunned if someone had taken this moment to dump a bucket of ice water on his head. But in true Raph fashion, his arms tighten around his little brother automatically, readjusting their hold so that Leo is more secure. The shape of it transforms from quick hug into steadfast embrace.

Mikey’s biggest brother, who could hold up the whole sky, will stand there and hold Leo together until the heat death of the universe, or until Leo lets go.

“Hey,” Raph says gently, “how about we hit the arcade later, just the two of us? We’re overdue a jam session and I’ll bet there’s a karaoke machine with our names on it.”

“As long as you promise not to attempt Mariah Carey, I’m down for anything, big guy.” Because Leo would follow Raph anywhere, has followed Raph everywhere, and they both seem to be remembering that in real time.

It really must have thrown Leo’s world out of orbit to be the one pushed out in front and expected to lead, with no prior warning or discussion. A jam session is exactly what the two of them need.

“I’ll make French toast for breakfast, but only if we can agree on toppings,” Mikey pipes up from the kitchen, as casually as if his whole heart isn’t a painful, hopeful thing lodged in his throat.

“Raspberry jam,” Leo muffles from somewhere between Raph’s shell and shoulder, “or I’m rioting.”

Raspberry jam and cream cheese stuffed French toast is Raphael’s well-known, all-time favorite breakfast food. Raph shouldn’t be surprised that Leo knows that, so the surprise must come from somewhere else. The last couple of weeks of stress and hurt and frustration go sliding off his spiky shell like water, all replaced by relief. The worry and confusion are still there, but those weigh practically nothing in comparison. He smacks a noisy kiss on the top of Leo’s head, grinning brightly when Leo whines and starts half-heartedly trying to noodle away.

“What’d I tell you?” Donnie says, from his sleepy stake-out in front of the Keurig. “Dr. Feelings is a smart guy, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the smartest guy I know. A Mikey makes everything better.”

Mikey beams at him, the kitchen warm and full and lively, Raph and Leo squabbling playfully by the table, his morning playlist belting out something folky and upbeat, gravity pulling everything back to where it belongs.

Fifteen doesn’t feel so scary anymore. But maybe Mikey’s okay with taking the long way there, after all.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #michelangelo hamato #raphael hamato #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #anonymous

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Traditional III

I think this is a little bit of a slow start for this series, and I apologize for that, I'm still kinda setting up some background pieces. I got a few big plans ahead here. I hope you like it. You can find the first two parts here: Traditional

Warnings: slight 18+ topics mentioned (like you have to squint to see them)

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke.

"I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him.

"M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

Harry was quietly but almost assuredly in love. There were hundreds of reasons not to be. First and foremost, she was his intern. Maybe not his directly...but at his company, nonetheless. There were so many issues with falling in love with someone that was subordinate to him. But here he was. The second reason was of course that he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone he was paying money to for the arrangement agreed upon.

But how could he not? She was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so kind and intelligent. The way her nerves seemed to amplify while she was at dinner with him versus the confidence she exuded when she shook his hand was unbelievably cute. He thought of all the things to be nervous about, it would be working at his company. But apparently, spending the evening with someone who already wanted to be in her presence was the kind of thing to get someone so cutely riled up.

The second he heard her voice say Styles Incorporated he was done for. He wanted it to be her last name—he didn’t care about how ridiculous the sentiment was. Hearing her say his last name sounded so perfect in her voice he practically melted. The moment he saw her in person was like trying to balance himself on a tightrope. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But he was the boss of the company she was interning for, so he had to pretend he was just meeting her. Like he didn’t just scour her interest profile and all social media looking at her cute little being.

Hey beautiful. What are you up to today? Do you want to come over? I make really good Ramen.

Oh, I’d really like that! She answered almost instantly. Harry smiled excitedly at the prospect of seeing the sweet girl in a few minutes. But...I’m building my furniture with Louis and Eleanor :(

Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to build her cheap furniture. He didn’t want her buying cheap furniture. But he wasn’t going to make her return everything she already bought...and he wasn’t going to make her skip out on her friends...as much as he wanted her to. Oh. Don’t you mean you and Eleanor? He remembered what she said good naturedly about her best friend.

No literally, lol. Yes. Me and Eleanor, you’re right. She sent a laughing emoji and Harry wished he could hear her laugh out loud. He loved her light little giggle that he got to enjoy at dinner the other night. He didn’t get to see her today at work, but he wished he did. It was why he was asking her if she wanted to come over now.

While he was reminiscing about her, he missed the three little dots signaling her second reply. We were going to order pizza...if you like pineapple on your pizza you CAN’T come over but if you like GOOD pizza, then you can come and entertain Eleanor and I if you’d like.

He thought her humor was easily one of his favorite qualities about her. Have you tried it love? It’s not that bad.

Here I was, starting to like you...I’m not ordering it.

He chuckled at her response. I won’t make you...I’ll be there in fifteen?

I’ll see you then :)

Harry wasn’t really one to worry about what to wear, but suddenly he had no idea. What do you wear to help your employee, but also love interest, but also companion that he found off the internet to help build cheap furniture? He decided on a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and some trainers he had lying by the door of his home. It occurred to him he was meeting her best friends and he thought that maybe he should have put in a bit more effort. It was only their second time together outside of work. Nonetheless, he was very excited and really looking forward to seeing her in her element.

“Louis,” she begged.

“I just want to ask him how many millions he’s worth. I don’t know why that’s an issue.”

She looked at Eleanor pleadingly. “Lou,” she said gently and then smiled kindly.

“Oh alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll behave. But I won’t like it.”

At that moment, her phone signaled she had a visitor waiting in the lobby. She didn’t know if it would be pizza or Harry, so she headed down with her wallet just in case.

As she descended the staircase the one floor, she seemed to have an epiphany that she was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she would typically wear to the spin class she went to once a year with Eleanor. She realized she was entirely underdressed to see someone as beautiful as Harry. More so someone that she was employed by—in more than one way. She doesn’t know what possessed her to invite Harry over to meet her friends and build furniture. But she did know. She knew because she already liked him so much.

“Wow, thanks, mate,” the man was stuffing the money into his pocket as Harry held the three pizza boxes in his hands. She imagined Harry must have given him a substantial tip. In her head, Harry probably didn’t walk around with any bill smaller than a fifty.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said quickly hurrying over to the pizza guy and Harry. The delivery guy was someone that she had run into several times over the last few years since she loved this pizza place.

“Oh, hey lady,” he smirked at her. “Your boyfriend said he would pay. Figured it wasn’t an issue,” he shrugged. Her cheeks pinked at the word boyfriend directed at Harry and she bit her lip waiting for Harry to answer instead. She waved gently to the man exiting with the large tip and he winked at her over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up and she swore she could see him mouth the word upgrade.

“Not a problem, love,” he responded with an easy smile. “Just happened here at the same time.”

With pizza in hand, she awkwardly made her way back to the stairwell trying to calm her nerves. Especially since Louis never had a filter. Harry was professional and lovely. He paid her in more than one way, and he was about to meet her crazy best friends. She worried she was about to lose both sources of income in a matter of minutes. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked quietly as she approached her door.

“Mhmm...” she hummed. “Nervous.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said it easily. “M’excited t’meet your friends.” Swallowing, she nodded and pushed the door open.

“How much do we owe you?” Louis called from the living room.

“Um...Harry paid, so you’d have to ask him,” she still sounded nervous as she kicked her flipflops off at the door and made her way through the little entry way.

“S’all set,” Harry said easily. Obviously. It was pizza, and he didn’t mind in the slightest paying for the four of them. He set the pizzas on the counter in the kitchen and turned to her friends spread about empty cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Her couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV and the new stand it sat upon. She had music playing softly in the background that echoed through the room from the TV. Eleanor was focused on the directions in front of her while Louis twirled the little wrench in his hand.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said and stood to hold his hand out. “Nice t’meet you. Heard a lot about you,” he smirked.

“Hi Harry,” Eleanor chirped leaving the directions to flutter back to the floor and gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming to help. Louis gets us distracted a lot.”

“Entertained,” he corrected. Harry chuckled.

“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” he noted that the coffee table was also completed in addition to the TV stand.

“Miss Impatient over there couldn’t wait,” Louis said. “El and I are on dresser duty.”

“Shh,” she hushed as she was still putting out paper plates and getting some napkins to put beside the pizza. “The coffee table and TV stand were like three parts total.”

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t take you as impatient, love,” he said softly in her direction.

She ignored his comment. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked as if the conversation around her wasn’t happening.

“Oh, she hides it very well,” Louis told Harry.

“She’s not impatient Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s independent.”

“Terrible really,” Louis murmured causing Harry to chuckle.

“Water is fine, kitten,” he finally responded as if he wasn’t causing the racing of her heart just by being there.

Louis and Eleanor left after two bookshelves, the dresser, and the night table were put together. Louis claimed exhaustion because he was old despite Eleanor and her doing most of the heavy lifting. After a grateful goodbye, she ushered them out the door, Eleanor whispering to call her later in her ear.

In her eyes, it was really starting to look and feel like home. Harry was extremely helpful and wasn’t irritated at all by the lifting or the tedious labor of putting together cheap furniture. Harry was in fact pushing the bookshelves into position. “Y’should really anchor this down,” he told her.

“Er...I don’t want to mess up the walls. They charge you a fortune for that when you move out,” she explained. Harry smirked at her knowingly.

“I’d like t’see them try.”

She snorted and pushed her boxes labeled books toward the shelves. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “You’re very...down to earth.”

“Thank you, love. I try t’be.” Harry was reading the titles of the books as he put them on her shelves. He thought you could learn a lot about a person based on what they read. She seemed to read a bit of everything which made sense. She appeared worldly and intelligent. Her choices ranged from psychological non-fiction to romantic novels set at Christmas time. There were several historical fiction books as well. “You read a lot?” He asked.

“I used to...” she shrugged. “I get really caught up in my schoolwork. When I have time in the summer, I can read two to three books a week but that’s only when I’m not stressed about other things.”

“I see.”

“Do you read?”

“Uh...a little here and there...but not too often. I should read more. I get very busy with the company and everything,” he explained.

“I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes every day since...well...since I was staying with Louis and Eleanor. I turn my phone off and set a timer on the microwave and everything. Louis hated waiting for it to be over so we could watch our shows and stuff.”

“S’nice you have Louis and Eleanor,” Harry remarked. “I don’t know what I’d do without Niall.”

“They’ve been the best people in my life for so long,” she said with so much kindness, so much reverence for them, Harry felt his heart stutter just as a bystander for her love for the pair.

“How did you meet them?”

“Louis was my older brother’s best friend. Since before grade school. They did everything together. He’s like my own brother...and Eleanor has been in his life since they were in high school, she’s like an older sister to me, too.”

“Oh, s’nice. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

There was a pause. If Harry wasn’t so enthralled by her, he might have missed how brief the pause really was. But he watched her swallow as she broke the cardboard box down and set it to the side as she slid the next one in front of her to start placing more books on the shelf. Her eyebrows pinched together just slightly. “He died when I was in high school,” she murmured. “Louis and Eleanor haven’t left me alone since.”

Harry thought of his older sister Gemma. The thought of her dying was enough to break his heart. He was overcome with grief for the poor girl who just casually went on organizing her books. Harry wasn’t sure how she could remain upright. How she could continue living. Gemma was one of his best friends. The way she spoke about Louis and Eleanor with so much admiration...he could only imagine how much love she had for her biological brother. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “M’so sorry, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed hard again. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Harry just let her put her books on the shelf and he silently watched her as it was clear the grief while manageable probably hurt a lot at times like this. Her eyes glistened a bit and she shook her head. “You have a sister, you said?” She asked eventually.

“Yeah, she’s older than me, too. Her name’s Gemma.”

She nodded. “You should call her and tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Often,” she mumbled.

Harry thought he would cry. “I will,” he promised.

They were quiet for a bit of time until all the books were neatly displayed. She stood up and cracked her neck side to side and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you,” she said finally. He shook his head.

“Not a problem, love.”

He was looking at her like she might break down crying. “Can I ask you something?” She wondered.

“Of course.”

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. The change in subject seemed so rapid but Harry didn’t know much about the grief she was feeling. It may have been over five years since it happened, but he imagined that coping with it was something that was still so prominent in her life. He wished he dug deeper into her social media. Wished that he searched her name in obituary searches or asked about her family earlier. It seemed like an entirely vulnerable way to bring it up and now she was stuck with him in her apartment where she probably felt completely exposed.

Hence her question. Taking a deep breath Harry wanted to tell her he would love to make out with her like a horny college frat boy. And yes, he had thought of bending her over this cheap furniture at least ten times since he arrived. But Harry liked to believe he wasn’t like most men on the website he found her on; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. He wanted her to be comfortable around him. Especially since he was kind of falling madly in love with her with every passing second. “I don’t expect anything but for you t’be yourself, kitten,” he said softly. “If our...relationship heads that way, m’open to it, of course. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny. I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him. Her eyes darted to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and he watched the way her fingers kind of shook as she reached for other scraps of plastic and Styrofoam to put in the trash pile.

Tilting his head at her, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling the shakiness and gave her a squeeze. It felt like heaven just to hold her hand. Harry felt so lucky he found her before someone else did. “M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

“And help me build cheap furniture that you hate?” She asked with a smirk. She squeezed his hand back and Harry swore he could hear wedding bells in his head.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he practically groaned. “I would’ve bought you real furniture.”

She grinned so cutely, wrinkling her nose at him. “I bought a real couch and bed.”

“A miracle, it seems,” he grumbled looking at the particle board that seemed to bend a bit with each book she placed on the last shelf.

Harry felt he was floating he sat in his office. Spending the evening with her, even just building furniture, furthered how smitten he was with the angel he happened to find on the Internet. Over the last month they hung out several more times, not doing much of anything of importance. Some nights they went out and Harry bought her fancy meals and drinks (and her favorite desserts). Other nights they watched a movie on her comfy, stable couch while Harry wondered if her TV stand was going to fall apart under the weight of her TV.

In the meantime, she didn’t see much of Harry while at work. Most of the time she was in Niall’s office tending to his needs and learning the ins and outs of his job. From what Niall said and what he could see, she was a natural, of course. She was brilliant. “If m’not careful, she might take my job,” Niall chuckled rubbing the back of his head. They were meeting in Harry’s office going over his latest spreadsheet that was so much more organized than the last five years of spreadsheets Niall ever provided. As anticipated, it was all thanks to her.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “You would be so lucky,” he muttered.

“You like this one,” Niall noted. Harry avoided his friend’s eye contact as he looked through the papers on his desk.

Harry nodded. “She’s good,” he shrugged.

“The others were good,” Niall replied, knowingly.

“Are y’snooping as my employee or my friend?” He asked without looking up.

“Best friend,” he qualified.

Harry shrugged again and thought about the pretty girl just down the hall looking adorable and being her perfect self. He hadn’t told Niall yet. But he wanted to. His only hesitation was making her uncomfortable. He didn’t think Niall would say or do anything, but...the idea of betraying her trust or making her feel inadequate at work made him feel like it could be the most horrible thing in the world. “She gets me tea,” he smirked.

“Honestly, I was shocked you gave her company card on the first day,” he chuckled.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit close together. “What?” He said simply.

Niall was seated across from him casually and he glanced at Harry almost curiously. He shrugged. “The coffee and tea?” He asked.

“I thought you gave her a card.”

Niall blinked in surprise. “Uh...no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t give her anything.”

Harry felt irritated. The kind of irritation he felt when she tried to pay for dinner. Or when she bought cheap furniture. Or any time she thought she was inconveniencing him. There was a knock on the other side of Harry’s office at that moment. “Come in,” he called.

“Oh, speak of the angel,” Niall grinned brightly. Harry stared at her, coffee, tea in her hand. Smiling kindly as she entered, she set the tray of drinks on Harry’s desk, and he watched her every movement.

“Talking about me?” She asked quietly. “Doesn’t sound good.”

“All good things, darling,” he promised.

“How do you pay for our coffee?” Harry asked bluntly, quickly, ignoring Niall entirely. He was miffed. In over a month of being here she had probably spent at least a hundred dollars a week of her own money on coffee for the three of them. More, if she went on behalf of other people. Which she was apt to do if anyone asked while in the same room when she asked Niall if he wanted something.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Stop,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Uh...I pay for it,” she admitted.

Niall blinked. “You pay for it?” He asked.

“Um...yeah...I thought—”

“Darling, that’s probably cost you a small fortune...s’not sustainable.”

Technically it was Harry buying coffee. But that’s not what he gave her money for.

“Really, it’s okay. I have—”

Harry was already pulling a checkbook out of his top desk drawer. He wrote her name and made it out for a thousand dollars before sliding it to her. She blanched seeing the amount. Oh, she was going to get an earful later. She just knew it. “Let me know if you need more,” he said simply. “Niall, can you please go get her a company card?” Niall stood taking his drink from the tray and headed for the door. He knew when Harry meant business. Literally and figuratively. This was one of those times. He didn’t fully understand why Harry was all up in arms about this, but if he was going to write her a check for coffee, he wasn’t going to question his friend’s reasoning.

“Wait, Niall...,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks were warming, and her heart rate felt aflutter...like when Harry picked her up from her apartment and held doors open for her. “I...I just set up a tab with the Starbucks across the street. They give us a discount because I go so often. I just tip them and pay at the end of each week...it’s not this much,” she said quickly handing the check back to Harry. A look passed between the two of them and Harry looked away briefly before Niall caught it. He didn’t want him to be suspicious...he would tell him. Niall was his best friend after all. But he couldn’t do it in the workplace. This was a private conversation for sure.

“You set up a tab?” Niall asked. Harry stared at her with so much...annoyance. She could feel his irritation seeping through the air, and she truly thought she was going to lose both her jobs for this. It was just coffee and she had already told Harry she didn’t need as much money as he gave her. Coffee was the least she could do. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Niall directed his question to Harry.

Harry didn’t know either. His agitation disintegrated by the second as he realized she was much more brilliant than he gave her credit for—even for something as simple and lovely as coffee. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It made her look like she was in trouble with a school principal. Her fingers fidgeted with the pockets of her skirt and Harry thought about how he wanted to kick Niall out of his office and how much he would love to rip the skirt off her so he could have her all to himself. She was too beautiful, too smart. He was grateful he was seated behind his desk hiding his lower half. “Don’t buy coffee for anyone here with your own money,” Harry told her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh stop,” Niall said shaking his head coming back to her. He put a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “‘Thank you, darling.’ Is what Harry meant.”

“Yes. Thank you. Don’t do it again.” Harry didn’t fully understand what was happening to him regarding this perfect girl. Never in his life did he anticipate finding a companion online, spoiling her rotten, and seemingly falling for her at the same time. So much so that he was jealous of Niall. He wanted to yank his best friend’s arm out of its socket solely for touching her arm.

Unfortunately, she saw the way his eyes connected with Niall’s hand on her arm. She was definitely going to get an earful tonight.

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca

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bts-iris · 5 months

Text

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

All you could hear was laughs.

Iris loved nothing more than hearing the boys who she called her brothers laugh and enjoy their selves.

They were sitting around each other reading letters they wrote for each other.

Some funny, some sentimental, and some silly.

Now it was jungkooks turn he had iris.

Now while jungkook was younger than iris by a couple months apart, she won’t let him forget it. And she made it known to she totally adored the manke and spoiled him.

They grew up together knowing each other before joining the company. Went to the same school, she always looked out for him.

As the laughs quiet down jungkook beings to speak.

“To my older sister.” He took a long pause. Iris made eye contact with him and nodded her head giving him an encouraging smile. Before he began to speak again.

“First i want to say even though you throw tantrums and can be so annoying,” He laughed and looked up from the paper her wrote.

“I mean very annoying like my younger sister. Oh! And don’t forget your height!”

She glared at him and pretended to roll her eyes while everyone laughed even the staff* “haha you’re so short”

“I still look up to you in many ways like a great older sister. Noona ever since I was little you’ve been taking care of me. Well all of us”

“Every accomplishment, every big step you take can never be greatly celebrated enough. You raised me and the members to be our best and be gentleman’s.”

“While my parents were there, you were present. All your challenges, all your feelings i wish could take away.”

At this point everyone was feeling about to cry because they knew everything jungkook was saying was true. Being the only girl in a majority boy group was hard. There’s no denying it but Iris came so far and they could never be more proud of their sister.

“Being an older sister is more than taking care of your younger sibling or being there for our members. It was teaching us manners, waking us up in the morning, it was letting us vent and cry to you when we felt like it was no one else, it was helping us with work, it was buying us stuff, encouraging us to do better than you, reassuring us that you were always here for us.”

Iris looked at jungkook and felt tears silently streaming down her eyes. She rememberes after a concert just sitting down and telling jungkook everything. And she meant everything. All the good, all the bad. Just how she felt. While she confided in all the members. Jungkook knew exactly how she felt how she didn’t need to explain herself, he’s been with her since day one.

“It was also a challenge when you went above and beyond but felt like it wasn’t enough for anybody, when you felt so low.” He said with shaking breaths.

“I saw you at your worsts. Battling depression an- and anxiety.” The cameras panned to the members. Yoongi’s head held low. He had so much admiration for the girl. How could he not, The min’s Were like two cats. They stuck by each other.He taught everything he know to his sister. He’s glad she’s in a better headspace now.

“Having panic attacks. Having people watch you and criticize your every move. I see you. We see you. You are more than enough. We watched you take on the mother role plenty of times. I watch you wait till you were by yourself to cry at night.” Now she was really crying.

“Recently you went on a small break and went on vacation by yourself, that was the first time in years i actually saw you rest and do something for yourself.”

“Being an older sister is more than we all think. You grew up quick and didn’t have time to play when you were forced to mature and take care of others instead of others taking care of you.

“Being my older sister i want you to know we’re always here. It’s okay to act like my younger sister because now that im older I understand. I want to you to know you can always lean on us. I pray that you will meet someone who will take care of you like you take care of us.”

It was silent.

by the end of his letter. You can hear sniffles from the members and even the staff behind the cameras.

The female member had ran up to jungkook and melted in his arms. He just let her cry in his arms.

The rest of the members made their way to the two and joined them. Just enjoying the moment.

“Can we stop the sad stuff now i’m a bit hungry” Yoongi said

Everyone started laughing. “Really hyung?” Joon said laughing.

nana speaks

lowkey teared up writing this one. i’ll make edits bc i don’t proof read oops. tbh this all what i wish someone would say to me haha based on experience being an sister. anyways i’ll try to write more on here hope you guys enjoy!

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minkkumaz · 1 year

Text

CIRCLES

changbin was a romantic, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run away with your hand perfectly fit into his. if not forever, for a little while. he just wanted to show you how much you were worth.

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING seo changbin x gn!reader WC 1.0k TAGS established relationship trope. hurt/comfort. reader has implied body issues. insecurities. kissing. OMI NOTE this is the final part of the series! it was a struggle getting this one out because characterizing changbin is really hard for me for some reason? i had to read so many bin fics to kind of get a clear picture and in all honestly i'm still not super proud of it. despite that, this series as a whole has been a journey, so ty to everyone who tuned in !?!?!

it was the little things that changbin would always do for you. over time it became extremely obvious that acts of service were one of his favorite love languages. nothing mattered to him as long as you were a happy and spoiled significant other, and words could never begin to explain how grateful you were.

he was extremely true to ‘go big or go home,’ taking you on dates to fancy restaurants, big viewing spots with the most gorgeous sunsets, or just whispering sweet words into your ear during a movie night in his apartment.

even when things weren’t perfect, and you didn’t feel deserving of the love he gave you, he was always there to treat you. it was almost like you couldn’t escape him.

maybe that was the beauty of it all, having someone to keep you steady when you felt yourself falling. having someone to care for you when you didn’t feel worthy enough. someone so willing to grant the world at your feet.

you practically felt your heartbeat in your ears, pounding loud enough to drown out any sound. the built up anxiety in your stomach, an unknown void of creatures in the back of your mind convincing you that you weren’t good enough. despite being able to subside it for just a little while, it always came reeling back.

a victim in your own mind, trapped in the idea that you had more flaws than you can count. on the outside it seemed like nothing, but inside it was everything. squeezing at your skin in the mirror, flesh raw from trying to move it around to your liking.

this was a battle between you and yourself, but there wasn’t a clear winner. you never won, and it killed you. it felt impossible to be slightly comparable, a goal that rot in your head. what else were you supposed to do when you were displayed on someones arm, but none of his fans seemed to think you quite fit?

but he always heard your cries.

coming home to a quiet apartment, the only sound being muffled sobs from your shared bedroom. he immediately rushed to find you, the feeling of worry drowning him suddenly. when he opened the door, you turned to look at him with such a heartbreaking expression.

“binnie..” you sniff as he scrambles to get his arms around you in an embrace.

“baby.. i’m here. i’m here. tell me what’s on your mind” he coos, caging around your fragile body.

“this is so unfair.” you cry into his chest.

“i know baby, just take deep breaths.” he guides you, rubbing circles into your back, “you’re so perfect, y/n. your face, body, and everything else inside.”

“but people always say–”

“it doesn’t matter what people say. who are they to say what’s good for me? you’re good for me.”

“i just wish i could run away from everyone. with you” you say, though it comes out more like a beg.

“then let’s run away.” he responded with no hesitation.

“binnie,” you move your head from his chest, looking at him with glossy eyes, “that’s impossible– you have a job and so much here.”

“shh, don’t worry about that. if not forever, at least for a little while okay? let me take you somewhere.” he cupping your cheeks gently.

“where?” “wherever you want to, i just want to help you get away for a bit.”

“okay.” you whisper hesitantly, the crack in your voice sending a spike through his heart.

“take binnie’s sweater, i know you like it when it smells like me.” he smiles, pulling a sweat shirt off his head and over yours.

warmth floods you, a familiar scent wafting through your nose. when the hood peeks over your head, you were met with your loving boyfriend once again. he took your hand and led you to the door, letting you stop for a moment to slide your shoes on.

and while you weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you, it felt right. his hand wrapped in yours, making your thoughts a little less loud.

changbin walked you to a park, somewhere the both of you liked to stroll though during the day when the sun was still beaming; but never at night. the calm atmosphere surrounded the two of you, the temperature was cold but not freezing.

“i’m sorry that you had to walk into that bin.. i was just having trouble.” you mumble, looking down at your feet.

“hey, don’t say that. i understand that you have your troubles sometimes.i love you and i’ll never leave your side.” he squeezes your hand.

“i love you too. it just gets so– so crazy in my head sometimes. and listening to all these things people are saying makes it so much worse, because you’re so so perfect. i feel so stuck in my own skin.”

“no fan of mine knows you the way i do, y/n. do they know how absolutely ethereal you look in the morning? do they know how much of an effort you make to come to the gym with me even though you hate workout out? never in my life have i ever found someone as special as you, and this goes so much beyond your looks.” he tells you, taking a deep breath after he got all his words out.

“gosh, you’re gonna make me cry again.” you choke, feeling overwhelmed with so much emotion.

“you don’t have anything to worry about, just don’t ever look back. there’s nowhere to go, nothing to worry about, when it’s just us.” he walks in front of you, taking your head in his hands to angle a kiss on your head.

“do you promise me?”

“promise.” he wipes a finger under your eye to dry your tears, before leaning in to catch your puffy lips in a kiss.

and with his lips on yours, everything disappears for a couple seconds. it will take so much time before these thoughts can truly leave you. but as long as he held you in his arms, you could forget about it for a short moment.

you knew you’d make it eventually.

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

PIERCE THE VEIL series

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kikijackson-blog · 24 days

Text

A is for Apple but Also for...? Phonics - Coco Special Birthday Edition

The celebration continues after everyone has gone.

Coco, Reader

Readers 18+ Only Please.

Warnings: Language and sexual references. Aside from that it's mostly fluff.

“Babe,” you shout out as you finish throwing the last paper plate away.

“Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“Yeah, you.” Coco answered from the living room.

He was sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Some children’s show was playing. He always acted annoyed when it would come on but deep down it always brought him joy hearing the opening music. He’d never admit that though but he didn’t have to, you knew it. You smile as you make your way to him. You had told him he could watch anything he wanted to today. It was his day after all and this is what he chose. But it wasn’t the show he was watching, it was the person watching it that pulled at his heart strings and hearing her laugh and sing along was one of his favorite things to do.

He moved his feet to make room for you but as you take a seat next to him he reaches out and pulls you to him.

“I told you I’d help you clean up but you wouldn’t let me. Me corriste de la cocina like I offended you or something.” He said in a childishly exaggerated fake hurt tone with a fake pout to match.

He kissed your forehead as you snuggled into him. “Please, you know there was no way in hell I was going to let you do any work today. That’s why you even offered.”

A guilty smile crossed his face, “Yeah but I still offered. That's what counts, right.”

You look into his eyes like it’s the first time you’d seen them and in one quick moment you see everything in them. The past, how you first met, your first “sort of” date, everything the two of you had been through to get to this point. The journey was long and filled with ups and downs. More downs than ups and many were the times where you’d almost thrown in the towel, but you made it here somehow and you wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Happy birthday,” softly you say to the man who had forever changed your world.

“Thank you.” It was as if he could see it in your eyes, he knew exactly what you’d been thinking of.

“For not giving up on me.”

“A is for?” said the character on TV.

“Apple!” shouted an over excited little voice.

In your ear he whispers, “A is for anal.” You playful smack him in the chest.

“Can I have some?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“But it’s my birthday.” He reminds you. “You said I could have anything I want.”

“Was that your birthday wish?”

He held you tighter as you shared a passionate kiss when you heard little footsteps hurriedly making their way to you. You could feel his smile against your own. Both of you turn to see this beautiful bundle of chaos in pigtails running towards the both of you, her ringlets bouncing all the way. She was a menace, a spoiled princess who if you let her get started was an unstoppable force and her father wouldn’t have it any other way. That was his angel even when she was being a devil. She was holding onto a piece of paper. You recognized it as soon as you’d seen it, it was a project she’d been working on all day.

“Cuddle party!” She shouted. Not wanting to be left out of the fun, she jumped onto the sofa with you and Coco.

“Happy birthday, daddy.” She shoved her masterpiece in his face. “I made it for you, daddy.”

You and Coco look at it and are both puzzled but she’s waiting for him to say something.

“For me?”

She nodded, “Yes, just for you.”

“Thank you, mija.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he could feel you silently laughing against his body, your face buried in his neck trying to contain it. “It’s a beautiful.”

“Can you tell what it is? Can you, daddy?”

“Um- yeah it’s...uh…it’s-”

Her big beautiful brown eyes looked into his, filled with such pride in her artwork and so much love for her dad.

“Babe, what is this?” He whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and just let it go. Your little girl laughed with you, not knowing what you were laughing at but she wanted in on that.

You both smiled.

The three of you embraced in this cuddle party and watched TV like that until she fell asleep. It took a while to get out of that tangled mess as you both tried carefully not to wake her.

“I’ll put her in bed.” Coco mouthed. “You.” He motioned with his head to the bed the two of you shared with that devilish smile you’d long grown accustomed to. You knew full well what that smiled meant.

You quickly got out of your clothes and into the red lacy babydoll that you had purchased just for tonight.

“Babe, really, what the fuck is this?” Coco asked, drawing in hand, studying it closely. You stand right night to him and for a long while the two of you try to decipher the puzzle until he brought his lips so close to yours, you could feel his breathe as he said, “Thank you for giving her to me.”

“No. Thank you.” You take another glance at the picture as you take it in your hands before laying it on the dresser.

“Hmmm, but I think we should get her some art classes ‘cause I have no fuckin’ clue. It looks like a melted unicorn.”

“Nah, baby, it ain’t got no horn.”

“Well, then what’s that pointy thing?” You asked.

He turned to look at you. “I don’t-” it was the first time he’d taken in the full sight of you in that sexy red piece. It was his favorite color but you already knew that.

“Fuck.” He was all he said.

He ran his hands all over your body, kissing your neck, gently nibbling along down to your collarbone, making his way to your breasts when you stopped him.

“Oh, wait. I have a present for you.”

“Yeah, I know you do, baby.” He said huskily.

“No, I mean an actual present.”

“You already gave me my present earlier.” He said in between kisses.

“Yeah but I have one more for you.”

You pulled away from him to retrieve the small gift bag that rested next to your daughter’s art piece, forgotten for now.

Coco was a little annoyed at the absence of you in his arms and he didn’t protest quietly but he kept his eyes trained on you, watching every move you make, wondering what else you could have gotten him and why it couldn’t wait until after he got his real present.

“Here you go.”

He took the little bag and peeked in it. With that devilish smile plastered all over his face again he says, “Really?” as he pulls the bottle of astroglide out.

“Happy birthday.”

#mayans x reader #coco x reader #coco cruz x reader

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the-cookie-of-doom · 5 months

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ooooOOOOOO HOW ABOUT SOME JEFFCEST? when the storm breaks???? 👀👀👀👀

send me an ask and I'll tall you about one of these WIPs

This is my Rain God/Sunshine/Ghost/Evil Science Husband marathon sex PWP that's also like. 5 chapters long with a prequel and a sequel 🤡 I've drawn a bunch of spicy art for it that tumblr unfortunately won't let me post, too. Essentially it's a combination of acekimagenda's idea that Rain is the only one who could dom Sunshine + my idea that Ghost is Rain's Goodest Boy.

I won't get too into it bc there's an actual hint of plot that I don't want to spoil, but essentially: Sunshine is Husband's first (successful) clone, and Sunshine has a lot of resentment about it. Esp with Ghost being the last one, and him being obviously Husband's favorite because he's so sweet and perfect, not like crazy, violent Sunshine. He ends up with weirdly biblical daddy issues/kink from it, in a Frankenstein kind of way. (Doesn't literally call Husband "daddy", but refers to him as Creator and sometimes as Father in the religious sense). And then they all fuck about it <3

Unlike their darling Ghost—the last of his true creations—Sunshine couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy within himself for the other man. He only wished he’d been there to bear witness. Though he supposed seeing the results would have to suffice. The scientist, once so proud and arrogant, left a broken wretch in the wake of endless tests, poking and prodding and injecting and cutting, his downfall wrought by his own design. Poetic. Of course, bleeding heart that Ghost was, he’d rescued their creator from His purgatory. Put Him all back together again like a faithful little puppet. He refused to resent Him for his own treatment. Naive boy. Oh, how Sunshine adored him. Especially when Ghost’s tender care meant he could break their creator all over again, take Him apart piece by piece knowing Ghost would be there to stitch those pieces back together, and so the cycle would renew. Again and again and again. It was only fair. Electricity pulsed at the base of Sunshine’s spine, lightning arcing through the vertebrae and straight into his brainstem, tearing a strangled cry from his throat. “You are wandering,” came a low, thunderous voice that rumbled straight into his empty core. Fingers dug into his lower back, still sparking with tantalizing little licks of plasma. Sunshine wondered if they scorched his skin. “A little,” he admitted on a breathy laugh, delighting in the displeased hum he received in response. Rain didn’t like to be ignored. He had that same egotistical quality as any deity, the same as his creator, that demanded attention. Devotion. Worship. But Sunshine bowed for no man, nor god. Not willingly—not without incentive. “Insolent,” Rain murmured, cool mist dripping from even colder lips and curling around Sunshine’s ear. He shivered. Rain drew himself back, up to his full height, and dragged Sunshine along with. While Ghost made love to their creator on the bed, Rain pinned Sunshine against the foot of it, hard oak driving into the sharp jut of his hip bones. The insistent press of Rain’s hand at his lower back wasn’t nearly enough to make Sunshine bend to his will. He continued to stand proudly, ignoring the shadow-cloaked presence looming at his back, even as the static in the air around him made every one of Sunshine’s hairs stand on end. “Why must you make everything difficult?” Rain asked, sighing, a gusty breeze that tousled Sunshine’s hair. “Your pride does not serve you well.” “I think it does.” Look at what his pride has earned him: his creator brought low, a slave to the very things He’d made to serve Him. A celestial deity, a storm made flesh, a god, answering to his pleasure. And Ghost, darling boy that he was, looking up to Sunshine as if he were a god himself, always with such wonder in his big brown eyes. Innocence, as well, that Sunshine could never seem to shake, no matter how he tried to taint him. “Hmm.” Rain stroked a light hand all the way from the base of Sunshine’s spine to the nape of his neck, where he held him firmly. A final chance to submit. Sunshine refused. “Very well.”

#cookie writes #jeffcest #ghost mv #we looove #rain god #sunshine #not even going to try tagging the ships sorry guys

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rockingrobin69 · 1 year

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Tiny snippet from imperfection, sad and a little sweet.

When Draco was twenty-one years old, he went to buy new towels.

Harry had his eye set on this purple monstrosity, extremely fluffy and very soft and terribly, horribly over-priced. Draco’s allowance hadn’t come through that month (or the one before), but more important was the uncontrollable urge to give Harry everything: anything he could want, ice-lollies and royal-blue pyjamas and another jumper, why the hell not. To spoil Harry rotten, the way he was always meant to be, to surround him with so much love he’d forget for a moment he was ever without it.

Draco wasn’t new to loving someone. Not, even, to doing so obsessively, inexorably. What was new was the look in Harry’s eyes, was being able to hold his hand in public (in—most places in the city). Was the way Harry said his name, the way his courage was stupidly infectious and his heart so big it didn’t fit in his chest, kept coming out in his smiles and in his hands, warm and soft and always generously offered.

Harry was only visiting. He didn’t, technically, live in Draco’s flat, but he didn’t, technically, have to return to Glasgow for another three weeks.

They made do with the time.

And Draco insisted that Harry must have his own things: his own bathrobe, his own pyjamas, his own toothbrush (fucking—gross, Harry!) and his own towel. Bringing them here, to the shopping centre with the terrible, tacky shop with the terrible, tacky things Harry wanted that terrible, tacky Draco would give his life to get for him.

Not in a dramatic way. In a—subdued, quiet way. In an utterly devoted, hopeless way that shouldn’t have felt nice, that still did. Everything felt nice about Harry. Everything but—

No, that wasn’t Harry’s fault, not even a little. Draco being disgusting and horrible was always meant to be kept secret. And it worked, when Harry lived in Glasgow and Draco in Oxford, it worked when they didn’t spend all their time together, but summer was long and tight and close and… and… and Draco didn’t know how to do this. To bare himself without fleeing, to give what he previously thought wasn’t in him, what couldn’t have been.

(Such as: his heart. Strange, no, that it actually belonged to him, when it never felt like it before. When it was wrapped so tight in strings upon strings, tying it to—other places, other people).

And Harry gave back. Everything Draco wanted to hand him, Harry insisted to return. To hold with care all of Draco’s sharp edges. And Draco was worried that he’d keep holding, even after Draco started to crack, and end up with hands full of shards of cutting Draco, end up—hurt.

Harry held the towel very close to his body. A bit like he worried someone might try to snatch it from him. Draco hated the people who raised him (a familiar, anchoring anger) and, out of spite, took his hand.

“Hey,” soft, like the towel. Harry looked up, his smile focusing, turning un-lost.

“Hi. Sorry. Fuck, you’re cold! C’mere.” Wrapping himself around Draco (uncaring for sharp, sharp edges). “It’s a bit expensive, though. There’s another set at half the price in—”

“Harry,” Draco said, “shut up. It’s from me.”

Meaning: it’s not enough for what I want to give you, for what I wish I could. (And Draco’s sad bank statement would be a worry for another day. He could do more hours at the book shop, if Father didn’t… if he stayed in Beijing for a little bit longer).

Harry squeezed him tighter. “You’re so sweet,” he said, and when Draco scoffed, “no, really,” and when Draco scoffed louder, “you are. You’re so—shut up, you’re maybe the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and—”

“Have you? met me, I mean. There’s not a single thing about me that’s sweet.”

“Your lips are sweet,” Harry said slyly. Draco refused to blush.

“Your hand is sweet,” Harry said, and brought it to his mouth for a chaste kiss.

“Your—”

“We’re in public, you fiend,” Draco said breathlessly, when Harry did no more than kiss the inside of his palm. Harry, being a fiend, laughed.

“God. I’m so fucking into you. It’s—come here,” drawing his face up to be kissed, not letting him shy away. Kissed the tip of his nose and his cheek and his left eyebrow. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Draco couldn’t even attempt coherency. Outmatched, overwhelmed with the constant onslaught, Harry-Harry-Harry all the time, and so warm and so sweet and so there, for a whole week now he was there, staying for the month. What… how could Draco defend against him?

So he pushed away, rolled his eyes, hid his red-red cheeks in Harry’s shoulder and didn’t cry. Didn’t even wish to. It was very bright in the shop and the centre was overcrowded and too noisy, and inside it they were huddled together, a bubble of fluffy, purple towel, and them.

It had to be enough. This month, this—whatever Harry would give him, it had to be enough. Draco would be grateful and suffice with it, and not beg for more. And not be greedy, because greed was a punishable offence and terribly gauche and Draco was better than that, was a Malfoy, was a—yes, all that.

So they bought the fucking towel. Then went home, and watched a film, and ate ramen, and sat very close to each other, sharp edges and all.

#900-ish words #drarry fic #sweetness - mostly #fluff and a touch of angst #snippet of the whumpy one #considering reading the whole fic? please have a look at the TWs #they are plentiful and not at all exaggerated #this snippet is (miraculously) trigger warning free

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calaisreno · 1 year

Text

Eloquent

For @notjustamumj May 5 prompt: Purple

John Watson is no writer of purple prose.

He finds a couple adjectives he likes — brilliant, amazing — and wears them out. He writes short, choppy sentences. And while he may know enough about plot to keep from spoiling the big reveal, his awkward sentimentality, expressed in blocky, stumbling prose, makes me sigh with relief when it’s over.

I may have expressed my distaste for his stories on one or more occasions. He is my blogger, though, and there is no one else who would bother to write up our cases, much less make me look like a hero. I’m no hero, but this doesn’t stop John from wearing out his adjectives, trying to make me one.

Lately I’ve given up grumbling about his writing, though. He takes obvious pleasure in it, and it actually has brought us quite a few clients. Writing makes him happy, and who am I to complain about that?

There’s another reason, though.

John Watson has an eloquent face. If his writing were half as eloquent, he would win prizes. Though he certainly has no idea that his every thought passes over his expression like wind on water, I observe it with fascination.

It was at his wedding that I first began to hope.

He was happy, overwhelmed, and uncharacteristically giddy, even before the champagne was poured. I stood at his side, my broken heart temporarily mended at seeing his happiness. I gave my speech, played the piece I’d composed for the occasion, and stepped back to watch.

I wanted to soak in his joy, the reason I had done everything for this day.

Mary at his side, he was being congratulated by various people, laughing and smiling. He turned to Mary and said something, still smiling.

And I realised: I had never seen him look at her the way he looked at me.

John, at Angelo’s. Do you have a boyfriend?

John, gazing at me across the police tape, a small smile on his lips.

John, his eyes admiring as I explain how Lestrade had got everything wrong.

John, too far away to see his expression; hearing his broken voice: You could.

John, at my grave: You were the best and wisest man…

John, the night I returned. Angry, for sure. But that mask cracked, and I could see his sorrow, all the grief he’d suffered, thinking I was dead.

John, asking me to be his best man: Of course you’re my best friend.

John Watson is not a hugger. But he’d hugged me during my speech. I was too startled to hug him back, and now I wished I had.

I watched him then, gathering more data. He cared for Mary, that much was obvious. But the smiles on that expressive face told another story. He thought he loved her, believed that he should love her. He liked her, was grateful to her, and had asked her to marry him precisely because he thought I didn’t love him. Because I had more or less told him that I couldn’t, over and over. Not much cop, this caring lark.

He looked up at me then, just as I was realising this. I don’t know what my face showed him. I was sad, I suppose, and maybe he could see that. But the look he gave me was of utter despair, like a man who’s lost everything meaningful in his life.

That was when I knew that he loved me. And that he didn’t love Mary.

His face shifted, flickered into a smile as he looked back at Mary, but it was a smile devoid of love. He’d seen my face, too, and knew now.

I left the wedding shortly thereafter. I’d wanted him to be happy, and he wasn’t. But I felt hopeful as I walked away. I loved John, and he loved me, even if he couldn’t admit it.

It wasn’t so simple, of course. The mystery of Mary Morstan caused us both a lot of anguish.

John still writes up our cases these days. And he talks about his feelings, though he reminds me that he finds that sort of stuff difficult. It doesn’t matter how prosaic his words are. His eyes are constantly telling me, I love you.

This one got out of the 221b manacles and ran. 😮

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @jrow @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @lisbeth-kk @mydogwatson @elwinglyre

Thanks for reading ❤️ I keep forgetting who's been tagged, but the invitation is still open! Read or write, and tag some people!

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beardedmrbean · 11 months

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Seeing a lot of my friends posting Instagram Infographics about the Israel-Palestine conflict, which is to be expected, but today, I saw a tonne of them reposting the exact same one which included the incredible statement that “so many people including progressives and leftist are learning meaningfully about Palestine for the first time” and I just

What happened before? There wasn’t any information then? There wasn’t any conflict before? It’s just infuriating seeing people treat this like a football team, where you support a side and just post picture after picture, statement after statement, without needing to worry about anything that happens in the region bc it likely wouldn’t have affected you.

Back when they had that whole dust up over evicting squatters from a home someone bought before WW1 a couple years back I expected more people to look into this stuff, suppose the fact that even if the place were still under the ownership of the Ottoman Empire the people would have been evicted shifted things.

One of my favs is the "map" everyone pulls out, which on the surface looks bad until you start looking at the dates where everything changes and realize that most if not all of the increases in the land size for the current state of Israel happened because one of their neighbors with the aid of the palestenians decided to try and invade and while I'm not a history major or anything I'm fairly sure that that's how borders happen, there's a war and territory is sometimes included in the spoils of war.

Right or wrong is irrelevant, it's just how it is, or at least always has been, look at Tibet it's recognized as part of china. They annexed it had a little war and won so now it's part of china.

Was Russia always as big as it is or were there expansionist wars?

Whole apartheid thing is weird too, place has equal rights for all citizens, resident aliens don't do so bad either, not equal responsibility though in a similar vein to men in the US only Jewish residents are required to serve a mandatory term in the military, I think, Arabs are exempt I know that much.

It's all insane, and I hate it, wish people would be honest. Israel is far from perfect but seriously some of the complaints,

with current news and accusations, let's remember this gem which was buried oddly never had to dig for this one before time to bookmark I guess.

This part is new information to me, doesn't make the whole thing any less batshit other than someone that hates Jews quoting Jewish research, I'd the nut bag must be getting the Eduard Bloch treatment, but Bloch wasn't an academic he was a healer, also Bloch wasn't an idiot.

Wild.

let's end with this one check the date

oh look down at the bottom is it a ray of hope

I'm good with legitimate fair criticism of people and countries and faiths and traditions and all that stuff.

Key word is fair

Fucking amnesty international can go and inspect and tell Ukraine that using schools to house munitions or soldiers or stage operations from is bad because it makes them a legitimate military target.

One for brits now, cuz cuntbin

If the accusations of white phosphorous are found to be true, I hope the people involve are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, if a civilian in intentionally murdered I hope the person responsible is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, if a rape is committed I hope the rapist is not only prosecuted but also castrated, if any one causes a noncombatant to be killed through their own actions I hope they are prosecuted, if any war crimes are committed I hope the perpetrators are held fully responsible.

You will notice I did not indicate a side on this, that's because if something is bad when one side does it, it is just as bad when the other does it.

But ya it's fairly obvious people haven't been paying attention and a lot of them are just picking a side now without any background perspective, there's legitimate gripes against Israel, they don't justify what happened though.

war crimes don't justify war crimes, I hope all of the guilty are punished

#anonymous

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juliedrawz · 2 years

Text

The long awaited appreciation post/character breakdown

Note : I mixed canon and headcanon facts from my book in here. (Some infos however are still missing because of spoiler reasons)

A/N - If someone would ask me to discribe Héctor, I would tell them that he's a walking ray of sunshine, spreading happiness wherever he goes. He's everything a perfect father and husband should be, and the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for.

Orgins

Héctor Rivera was born to his parents Arlo and Estella Gracía on january 10th in Santa Cartoria (the biggest part of the city El Torres) in Yucatan.

Through his mother's hispanic gipsy orgin, Héctor was brought into a world full of dancing and music. He was loved to pieces by all his family members and discribed as an unusual happy baby, always laughing and hardly ever crying.

The love for guitars especially was planted into Héctor by his father, who was a passionate guitar builder and player himself.

Both his parents, which he was very close with, meant the world to Héctor. Between the age of 3 and 4 Héctor lost his father first to a local civil war whereupon his mother, after seperated from her family, fled with him all the way to Oaxaca, Santa Cecilia by foot. Once in the new city, the exhausted and sick mother and her son were taken in by nuns of the local church. After Estella's death, Héctor was brought to the orphanage, where he subconsciously supressed his memories to cope with the loss.

Early childhood

Despite the great loss of his parents and family, Héctor never lost his optimistic and lively character. Always seeing the good rather than the bad. Though shy and quiet at the other hand.

It didn't take long for Héctor to understand, that he was different from other children his age. Mentally ahead of others, he found joy in reading books, writing poems and exploring the surrounding nature on his own. Since the other kids would call him weird, Héctor didn't even bother to try and fit in, he didn't want to and he didn't care.

If not on and about in the fields and forests of Santa Cecilia, Héctor would find himself at the center plaza to watch and listen to the mariachis. His adoration didn't stay unnoticed for too long. Eventually he was taught how to play the guitar by the leader José Vargas by the age six.

According to Josè, Héctor lived and breathed music, having it in his soul. He also called the guitar Héctors third arm.

Most important Relationships

Ernesto

A/N - I wish I could just tell you their whole story here, that's how eager I am! But, it has its time and place in my book and I certainly don't want to spoil anything. So, here come the basics! Also they're 12 and 8 above ☝️

When Héctor told people he and Ernesto go way back, he meant it. They grew up together, formed a deep brother bond and loved and considered each other family.

Having Ernesto as big brother, Héctor always looked up to him. He couldn't imagine a life without him and tried his best to balance his time after marriage and becoming a father to please everyone.

Noticing Ernesto's behaviour change was painful and confusing. Just as much as getting rejected over and over again in the land of the death. Héctor never understood what made his best friend snap like that but he yearns to understand. Also, in my book, Héctor at one point says this to Álvaro (the doctor)

"As odd as it is, despite everything, I don't hate Ernesto. And don't get me wrong, but I know that he could never hate me either."

Furthermore he says this -

"That man at the sunrise spectacle, that wasn’t Ernesto. That wasn’t my best friend; my brother. He'd totally snapped, gone savage. I … I didn’t recognize him anymore. There was so much anger and fear in his eyes. I can’t make sense of it. I wish I could! I wish I could understand what happened to him. Caused him to become that way."

A/N - writing about their relationship and past was and is still tasking but it's also wonderful and exciting. I cannot wait to share that part of the past!

Imelda

Héctor 15 y. Imelda 16. y 👇

Héctor's one true love, his twin flame and soulmate.

From the moment he first spotted her, he felt that special, unexplainable spark. That deep connection has always been there, and it took a while for Héctor to understand what it meant.

Héctor was well aware that many couldn't really understand how he could manage being with Imelda and handle her fiery temper. But to him, it was never a problem. If asked about it, he would always reply that he even loves her temper tantrums. To him, they are "sexy"

- In my book, I discribe their reunion, their road of recovery and how they get back on track. Also their whole past and future. I'm obsessed with them! 😍 I love love love writing them up and down! *sigh*

Coco

Like father like daughter. Héctor passed down a lot of his characteristics to Coco. He was/is very close to her and despite his young age (becoming a father at 18) he was a remarkable good parent. Surprising everyone around how good he was at handling his baby. Héctor also was what others would call a helicopter Dad. Overprotective and always worried something might hurt his precious daughter.

Next to Imelda, Coco is Héctor's everything. Back when he was still aiming to cross the bridge, he was ready to rather die a second time trying than giving up.

A/N ~ Guh! Did I mention that he's the best Dad? He needs a 'best Dad ever' award!

Character traits

Positive :

Optimistic, humorous, ambitius, caring, altruistic, empathic, spontaneous, honest, protective, creative, easygoing, enthusiastic, gentle, humble, idealistic, innocent, loyal, forgiving, passionate, persistent, bubbly, spunky, supportive, trusting, unselfish ...

Negative/neutral :

Stubborn, melodramatic, reckless, shy, clumsy ...

Man I wish tumblr would allow me to post more than just 10 images 😒 ....

Now, if I haven't already gushed and raved about Héctor enough ... I FREAKING LOVE THAT GUY! Like, man, he's the perfect package of everything! He's incredibly handsome (to me at least) He's got frecklessss, ans those eyelashes! Fluffy hair! He's tall! Full lips, perfect white, straight teeth. And that combined with his personality, Ay Mama!

I enjoy writing Héctor a lot! He's just awesome! Like a hot cup of tea and a cozy blanket after a long walk through a snow covered forest.

His goofyness just cracks me up over and over again. His pure heart just deserves the biggest Aawwwww. I mean, the INNOCENCE! With Imelda behind closed doors, he surely knows the whole rollercoaster menu and while other adults would consider Miguel old enough to know what boobs are (he regulary gets his face shoved into his grandmas chest when she hugs him!) And here comes Héctor cencoring the word!

Back to him being a heli-dad. I bet you, he covered baby Cocos eyes whenever Imelda would walk out of the shower stark naked, trying hard not to drool like a great dane. And Imelda poker faced would just argue why he was covering their daughters eyes.

Or as soon as Coco could walk, Imelda would one day find all pointy furnitures covered with pillows and Héctor would say that he doesn't want Coco to hurt herself.

He would freak out big time when they would be outside and there's the slightest possibility of Coco getting hurt. Bees, birds, cats, dogs, stones, puddles, dirt. Imelda would regulary need to calm Héctor down, convincing him, that a bug bite isn't deadly and no, neither is a little bit of sand that Coco shoved into her mouth. Or that flower she ate.

And I cannot repeat this enough! The 👏 flower 👏 bridge 👏

The freaking thing with El puente ok!

I am over and over again blown that Héctor would stop by nothing to cross the bridge. Get caught? Try again. New disguise blown, try again. Broken bones? Try again. Risking to die a second time? He still tries. He simply doesn't care! He wants, needs, has to get to his one true love and daughter. And even after Imelda has passed over, he keeps going because Coco is still there! If that man's devotion isn't the prime example that perfect father love and the one true love exsists, I don't know what else could be.

Also, again, let me underline his kindness, his altruism! He's too good for the world! He hardly EVER picks a fight, he avoids fights! And even IF there's a situation of conflict, it takes Héctor, what, 5 seconds to backpaddle and be like "ok, you know what, let's not argue!"

We saw that with the police officer. Then with Chich, Ceci, Miguel, Ernesto and Imelda. He constantly takes the blame or gives in for the sake of peace, for the sake of the other ones feelings. He would rather swallow being right, if that means his opposite doesn't get hurt too much.

You really REALLY have to push and force Héctor to the farest edge, to have him snap and really get mad.

Being such a person deserves the highest respect. Being such a person in a word like ours is dangerous. You are bound to get hurt. And if you are STILL standing and still having that pure, kind heart, 👏 applause!

Such souls are rare! Héctor is a full blown jackpot! We need more people like Héctor in the world!

#pixar coco #coco 2017 #coco fan art #coco hector #héctor rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco characters #coco imelda #imelda rivera #Héctor appreciation

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mel0000 · 2 years

Text

My top BL-Series Of 2022

Hello my fellow Bl-fans. The girls/ gays and theys obviously won this year, so let’s look back on our blessings 😃

I’m not spoiling anything or I’m trying not to, let’s go 🚶🏻‍♀️

1. KinnPorsche

This doesn‘t come surprising, does it? I remember how I lived week to week back then and the mafia topic was still kind of new and oh so exciting. Enough sexyness, earnestness and humour gave this series a well rounded outcome. There were still holes in the plot here and there but where weren‘t any this year? Let‘s move on. (Waiting for season 2)

2. Semantic Error

My god, these two held me by my throat in the beginning of this year, you couldn‘t help but immediately fall in love with them. It was a successful series and I hope Jaechan and Seoham will do another project in the future, but I don’t think so as of now.

3. Young Royals 2

Another Wilmon gold piece produced, which plot went smooth and showed progress over the episodes. It’s still very short for such an amazing piece and I miss Wilmon almost all of the time, but I‘ll gladly wait for season 3.

4. The Eclipse

The portraying of strong queers went WILD with this one. How Akk got weak in the knees because of Ayan had me gushing over them every week. The plot is lacking a little tho since some points weren’t finished/ worked on properly and Thua..no, just no. Neo looked so dann handsome in his role though and did such a good job with Louis!

5. Between Us

It‘s not finished yet and the plot seems to move too slow atm, but boy, Win is the consent king of this year and is doing the work for every bl character this year that couldn’t do the bare minimum. *COUGH*LITA*COUGH*

We also got a P‘Deeaan~ and the UWMA throwback is nice and so well done from this perspective.

6. Cutie Pie

Nunew and Zee feeding the sub bottom/ dom top fetish/ height difference fetish well 😂 I didn’t like the bff side couple that much and sometimes the corny plot was too much, but the acting was well done.

7. My School President

I can’t believe either that this is in my list already BUT IT IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS THAT COME CLOSE TO THE THINGS I FELT WHILE WATCHING BAD BUDDY. It is super cute now, not like you think at the beginning and I can’t wait for a new episode. The fandom posts here on Tumblr are also 😘👌🏻

8. Never Let Me Go

This one is also here already. Can’t say much except for the acting that has improved for both Pond and especially Phuwin, my little guy grew up.

9. Blueming

One of the best k-bls this year, hands down. Story, aesthetics, just everything.

10. 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us

"You ask me what I‘m thinking about, I tell you that I’m thinking about whatever you’re thinking about“ it’s DADDY ISSUES, everyone! We all needed a series like this. It was slow-paced and kind of clickbait, but the aesthetic shots made up for that. Nothing made up for the one of a hell annoying mother tho. I also didn’t know any of the actors before even though they seem quite famous.

Very honorable mentions:

Plus And Minus (best Taiwanese bl, still not over the cameo)

Star In My Mind (the Joong-flavour)

My Only 12% (good worked out plot, good acting, angsty season)

Enchanté (the end omg 🤦🏻‍♀️, Force is one handsome dude)

Old Fashion Cupcake & Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice (best of Japan this year)

My Secret Love (preferred the second couple)

Cherry Magic The Movie (😍 I missed them and WEDDIIIIING)

Big Dragon (…they could improve the plot for season 2)

Love Mechanics (the kinda non-con at the end turned me off and it wasn’t my favourite story to begin with)

Eternal Yesterday (I should‘ve watched the trailer, I didn’t expect THAT 😂 but it was still good)

To My Star 2 (at first I thought we didn’t need the angst, but we kind of did)

Vice Versa (good story, mediocre acting, not my favorite couple except for the lesbians 😏)

Cupid’s Last Wish (…we didn’t need that, but EarthMix we did)

Kissable lips (I’m happy that the actors still work together, but it was mediocre)

About Youth (can’t remember anything, but it was good 😶)

My Tooth Your Love (cute and the couples slayed)

Magic Of Zero (🥹 EarthMix and MilkLove)

Secret Crush On You (super corny and mediocre acting, but the topics they handled and how they handled them!! Rare occasion)

The Tuxedo (pretty actors and an okay plot)

The Miracle Of Teddy Bear (not my cup of tea, but I’m happy it was kinda famous in Thailand)

Not so honorable mentions:

Minato’s Laundromat (did turn me off and also non-con)

A Man Who Defies The World Of BL 2 (it was probably decent, but I can’t remember one second of it 😫, I’m getting old)

Ocean Likes Me (cute and HOLLAND💓💓💓💓💗 but we didn’t need that)

Cherry Blossoms After Winter (the non-con destroyed it)

Our Days (I don’t know what the person ate that made the plot go this way)

Check Out (we all know why this is here, I can watch porn instead, thanks)

Close Friend 2 (oh we didn’t need that as well)

Love In The Air (kinda non-con and Mame can’t live without rape in a plot, sorry not sorry)

Oh!My Sunshine Night ( I started this series and stopped after two episodes since it was boring, sorry OhmFluke)

War Of Y (started off good, but went downhill pretty fast. Been skipping the last few weeks through the episodes)

Love Victor 3 (not sure where to put this honestly. I loved 1&2, but this was a back and forth, which is normal for teenagers, but I think this wasn’t it for me)

Mr. Cinderella (finally a Vietnamese bl, but not my cup of tea)

Heartstopper (kinda overhyped, plot didn’t get me, boring 😶)

Note at the end: Look how far we’ve come! It’s sad bl’s with lots of sex scenes get the most attention, I recommend everyone to just watch porn if you’re thinking a series/ movie is bad/ not enough because there is not enough bed sports displayed. If you’re an adult, you must know there are relationships that aren’t only in for the sex. (Since I’ve seen enough people saying you’re not a couple when you’re not having sex, BULLSHIT YOU F***ING CHILDREN)

Thanks for coming to my rant. Let’s hope for a better 2023!

#kinnporsche #semantic error #the eclipse #young royals #between us #cutie pie #my school president #never let me go #blueming #180degreelongitudepassesthroughus #thai bl

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hazeofhearts · 2 years

Text

Take My Breath Away

June 1995

The day was bright, but the hottest part of the day had passed an hour or so ago. Will couldn’t stop the shaking in his hands, but he hadn’t been able to stop them for three days now. It wasn’t fear that something would go wrong. Everything was covered. It wasn’t even that he was getting married! No. He was ready for this and had been dreaming of this day since he was seven. This was the first and only wedding he had ever imagined himself having. Somehow, even though he’d never gotten them, these were happy shakes.

Will was adjusting his bowtie once again in the mirror. It felt weird to be back here, even if this was his childhood home. After the return from the California stint, reclaiming the old Byers house hadn’t been all that difficult. It would just feel wrong now that everyone had been reconnected once more. The location was pretty unreasonable for anyone else from town, and no one outside of Hawkins came into Hawkins to buy a house, especially not after the “devastating earthquake” or whatever the news had called it back then. Will’s mouth twisted with the memory of what life had been like for him back then, then smoothed out once more with the thought of what would come.

“Honey? I’m coming in,” said his mother with her timing knock, sweeping in quickly through the door to avoid spoiling anything for the guests. It’s not like this was a traditional wedding where you couldn’t see the bride in her dress, but Joyce Byers was nothing if swept up in the romance of it all. She was wearing her gorgeous mother-of-the-groom outfit, a cream-colored dress that fell just below the knees with a blazer over the top in the same color. Will had insisted that since there wouldn’t be a bride, his mother and sister should wear white. Someone had to have the honor. El had wasted no time picking out a white, off-the-shoulder gown with lace trim. Joyce had made her reservations known, but Will assured them it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Hi, mom,” Will said quietly, fingers jittering and messing up his tie more than it was helping.

“Did Hop help you with that tie? It looks a little….” Joyce waggled her fingers, nose scrunching sympathetically.

“You know, you’re also a Hopper. That nickname doesn’t work as well now,” Will laughed. “But yes, he did help me.”

“Figures. I knew when you said you wanted a bowtie that he’d insist on helping you. C’mere.”

Joyce muttered as she fiddled with the bowtie, her hands shaking just as bad as Will’s, if not worse.

“Mom? You okay?”

This was Will’s first good look at his mother in the last 24 hours. She’d been flitting around, trying to host almost every child she had ever mothered in the 80s. Jonathan and Argyle had been here the second longest, having flown in from New York. El had arrived two days after Will did, lugging her gigantic suitcase from wherever she’d modeled last. Will knew his mom loved hosting, but he wished she would settle down. Of course, he can say that about her but not himself. He is his mother’s son, after all.

“Yes, of course. Weddings are all just a little bit stressful, you know? I mean, we had Jonathan and Argyle’s union in January in New York, and now yours in June. It’s all just so much joy for your mom, you know? Do you remember when you said you’d never fall in love?”

Joyce had been tearing up as she spoke, and the tears fell at that question. Will tried to wipe her tears away without smudging her makeup. El worked hard to craft the perfect look that would highlight Joyce’s big brown doe eyes and make her look more beautiful than she did every day. That’s what El said last night anyway, while swatching different colors on her hands, Joyce’s hands, and anyone else she could get her bushes on.

“El’s gonna be pissed if you ruin her makeup, mom,” Will said, no actual malice or scolding in his voice.

“Oh, I know. I just can’t believe my baby’s getting married,” Joyce said, a sob bubbling up from her throat.

“Will, is mom in there?”

Jonathan’s voice wafted from out in the hallway.

“Yeah, come in.”

Jonathan was alone and rushed to his brother and mother when he saw them in each other’s arms. His camera, which had been around his neck like usual, was abandoned on Will’s old bed. Will felt like he was twelve again, but instead of feeling sheltered and treated like glass, he was supported and given something of a goodbye.

“Sorry, sorry, boys. I don’t mean to get emotional,” Joyce said, pulling away first. She fans at her eyes to dry them, and Jonathan removes a dusty tissue from the box on Will’s high school desk.

“No, mom. It’s an emotional time. You don’t have to apologize. This is an incredible day. I know your tears mean you’re proud,” Jonathan said as Joyce blew her nose as gracefully as possible to smudge the least amount of makeup.

“Oh, I’m more proud than I could ever be. My babies are all grown up and doing what they love, with people they love. That’s all a mother could ask for.”

Will enveloped his mom in a hug again, pulling her as close as physically possible. Jonathan sandwiched her in from behind, his arms secured around Will’s shoulders. Will loved his sister and stepfather but appreciated this moment alone with his mom and brother.

“You raised us to go after our dreams, no matter how far-fetched and unattainable they may be. If we fell, you’d support us, and we could get back up and try as many times as possible. You showed us that growing up, mom,” Will murmured into her hair, a careful updo that would need redoing when El saw her.

“No more, no more. I’m really going to ruin my makeup if we keep in here. I just came to make sure you were ready, baby. Are you?”

Joyce continued to dab at her eyes while Will looked at himself in the mirror. He saw himself in his rich, light blue suit tailored by El. She’d managed to finagle a bunch of daisies into his locks. His hair was just a bit too short, so he looked a little like a baby bird with their fresh tufts of feathers. He loved the look. Behind him, he saw his mother and brother. The two people who had been by his side his entire life, and would follow him into his future, were there as well.

“I’m ready. What about El? Dad? Does Dustin have his notes? What about Max’s equipment?”

Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder, a rueful smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about those things. That’s what your wedding planner is for,” Jonathan said soothingly.

“I mean, I can understand how El would want to do absolutely everything, but she’s got to be overwhelmed.”

“El’s faced much worse than a private wedding. Plus, all of us helped set up the arch and chairs last night. Everyone brought the dishes they’d promised to make, and the cake is still in the fridge. We got this.”

Will took a deep breath, then let it out.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

El burst in the door then, hair in an elegant yet complicated style that Will could never dream of trying to replicate. She fussed over him, Jonathan, and their mother in that order.

“Oh, mom! I knew you’d cry if you came in here. Let’s get your makeup fixed before the ceremony. Everyone’s here now,” El said, turning to the door. Will heard a shuffle outside the hall before Jonathan shielded him from sight.

“Hey,” El said sharply, pointing to the door she left open. “It’s bad luck to see the groom before the alter. Get back, you beast!”

A laugh from the hall made Will’s heart clench and drop to his shoes in the same breath. Jonathan scooped up his camera after the door closed once more.

“Well, it’s time for me to do my job now. See you on the other side, brother.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to pay you? You’re a good artist and deserve to be paid for your work.”

“Will, you’re my brother. I’m offended you even asked. Just make sure you contribute to rent when you guys move in with Argyle and us before you get your own place.”

The next ten minutes passed so slowly, and Will could feel himself getting a little damp under his suit from his entire body sweating. Joyce guided him to the backdoor with gentle hands and left him there to sit in her place of honor. He could hear the music that Max had curated for the day and knew who was proceeding down the aisle by the beats of the music. They’d repeatedly practiced the procession over the past few days until Will was sure everything was perfect. He called up the mental map of the yard in his brain.

The white rug, bought from a wedding supply store for Jonathan and Argyle’s union, was wedged under the back door, between the screen and the wood. It would lead to the middle of the backyard, flanked by rented fold-out plastic chairs. Each row of chairs was bookended by mason jars filled with daisies, baby’s breath, blue forget-me-nots, and white carnations. At the end of the rug, a homemade pergola, courtesy of Jim Hopper himself, threaded through with the same flowers in the jars.

Max would be stationed closer to the house to protect her sound equipment but would sneak closer to the ceremony once she no longer needed to provide songs. Dustin was proud when he flashed his officiate certificate, and Will’s heart grew at his friend’s consideration. Steve and Robin would be stationed on either side of the house to ensure no surprise visitors. There had been many discussions about hosting the wedding in Hawkins for fear of specific people making themselves known when they were very much unwelcome. But, this was the source responsible for the lifelong love that Will was binding himself to, so Hawkins herself deserved some credit for something. In any case, Steve had his nail bat in the trunk of his car, hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

Finally, after what felt like hours of standing at the backdoor, the music shifted to something softer, and the door opened before him. Will’s hands clenched tightly around the small bunch of the same flowers littered across the venue. It wasn’t the traditional wedding march, but this was not a conventional wedding.

El had decided a faux hedge wall would be an excellent backdrop to take pictures once the reception had finished and hide Will until the last possible second. Will caught Max’s grin directed at him before he turned the corner.

There, the sunlight peeking through the pergola and lighting on the daisies in his own much longer hair is Michael Wheeler. His cheeks are pink, his eyes crinkle upon making eye contact with Will, and he sucks his lips into his mouth. Will recognizes that as Mike’s ‘trying not to cry’ face and forces himself to slowly walk down the aisle, stepping in the correct time to the music. Jonathan pops in and out of his view, his camera flashing quickly.

The music swells as Will steps up to Dustin and Mike, and he sees Mike’s throat hitch in real time as he chokes back a sob. There are small, gentle tear tracks falling down his cheeks, and Will knows there definitely is the same on his. As the young men come to face each other, they both let out gasping laughs. Will can feel El extracting the bouquet from his hands, and they automatically go up to Mike’s face, wiping the tears. Mike’s hands, in turn, do the same for him.

They stand silently at the altar, crying the happiest tears anyone in their company has ever seen. Mike leans in, and Will, having come to appreciate certain wedding traditions, course corrects to a hug. Will’s arms close around Mike, and Mike’s arms crush them together, squeezing all the air out of each other. Will can feel Dustin’s hand on his shoulder, and he pulls them into an embrace. Quickly, both young men feel the hands and arms of their other friends, Lucas, Max, and El; and they are enveloped in a love so strong and pure that nothing could replicate it.

After everyone has sufficiently calmed down and returned to their seats, Dustin straightens up and greets the guests.

“Welcome, friends, family, and loved ones. We come here today, in the sight of you as witnesses to join Michael James Wheeler and William Jacob Byers in marriage. We gather around them now in this wonderful place, and we look on with love and hope as these two begin their new life together as one.”

Will looks into Mike’s eyes, his typically dark brown eyes turning to warm chocolate as the sun seeps through the pergola. Their hands are joined, Mike’s are sweaty, and so are Will’s. Mike rubs his left thumb on the outside of Will’s right hand, and Will can’t help but look at the daisies El has successfully weaved through his hair. He’d slept on the couch with it in a braid last night, so it has a pretty wave to it, and El has rebraided smaller pieces to hold some of the daisies. He looks beautiful, but he always has.

Dustin clears his throat, and both of them snap their gazes from one another. Their officiant has the most smug smirk he’s ever shown on his face, and their guests chuckle in amusement.

“I suppose I’ll repeat myself. Mike and Will, are you ready to proclaim that foundation of love for one another in the sight of these witnesses?”

“Yes,” they both said in unison, matching wobbly smiles on their faces. They say that the longer you’re in a relationship, the more you act and become like them. This is no different for Mike and Will. Though aged in their own ways, their guests can still see the immense friendship and love that entwines them with each other. Mike and Will move at the same time, breathe as one, and are a unified front of strength and determination.

“Michael James Wheeler, do you take William Jacob Byers to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw ay you both, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Mike says, a grin splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in ways Will has seen more often through the years.

“William Jacob Byers, do you take Michael James Wheeler to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you honor and cherish him; love, trust, and commit to him, through joy and pain, sickness and health, and whatever life may throw ay you both, until death do you part?”

Will take a deep breath, and Mike’s smile wobbles. Will’s hand reaches up and strokes his cheek, brushing his dark wavy hair away from his face.

“I do,” Will says firmly and with pride evident in his voice.

Someone out in the sea of fold-out seats blows their nose with a loud honk, and Will would bet money on it that it’s his stepdad. He’d made quite the turnaround when both Will and Mike revealed their relationship. After Mike and El had broken up for the last time sophomore year, Jim chilled out and accepted their new friendship, even apologizing for his overprotectiveness. When Will came out to his mom and stepdad, they supported him, and it only grew when he told them about his relationship with Mike. Jim sat them down and explained the dangers of being in the world but was honored to defend and protect them when and if the time ever came for him to be needed. That was a good day.

“At this time, Will and Mike will exchange rings. The wedding ring is symbol of binding. A symbol of attachment and of belonging, not of possession, but of partnership.”

El stepped forward, the matching wedding rings on a little satin pillow embroidered with flowers. Will had made his concerns about how much she had been planning this wedding, but she said that all the items she’d created doubled as grades for her fashion courses in college. That reassured him somewhat. Dustin holds the pillow out, and each young man takes a ring. During their fittings, they discovered they were the same size, which only sealed that they were meant to be with one another.

“Mike, please repeat after me.”

“Will, I promise to love you and commit to you my whole life. I promise to be there for you when you need me, to be honest with you, to be faithful to you and you alone, and to walk through the valleys of life together, just as we will stand atop mountains together, too,” Mike recited, his hands steady as he took up Will’s left hand, giving him a reassuring smile as he began to slide the ring onto WIll’s finger.

Will let out a little sob, something so quiet that only the three up there would have heard. Everyone would see his shoulders shaking, though. Dustin reached out and held Will’s shoulder comfortingly before stepping back again.

“Will, please repeat after me.”

“Mike, I promise to love you and commit to you my whole life. I promise to be there for you when you need me, to be honest with you, to be faithful to you and you alone, and to walk through the valleys of life together, just as we will stand atop mountains together, too,” Will repeated, taking a break halfway through to catch his breath. Mike’s ring got stuck halfway on his middle knuckle when Will’s hands shook particularly intensely.

When they’d exchanged rings, Mike took Will’s hands and pressed a kiss to the back of them.

“Hey! No kissing before the officiant says!”

Their friends laughed along with Mike and Will as they realized they were officially bound to one another. It was more exciting than Will could bear! He was eager to cut the cake and celebrate with all his friends.

“Now, the couple will exchange their written vows.”

Dustin gestures for Mike to read his vows first, as requested by the couple during planning. Mike fumbles with the breast pocket on his tuxedo jacket, then pulls out a piece of paper. Will recognizes it from the library. It’s been creased, uncreased, folded and refolded repeatedly. Will bites his lip to hold back any strange noises he might make.

“Will Byers, you are breathtaking. Since the first day I met you, I thought you were the prettiest person I’d ever seen. Your hair was shining where you sat on the swings, and you looked so sad, but my little brain knew you were going to be someone special. I had to talk to you. We grew up, and I thought that I was supposed to hide myself, my true self, because of the teachings I have now since grown out of. I thought that I had to be someone strong and tough, who liked girls because that was what boys did. When I looked at you, I never saw that you were trapped in the same hell I was. You were always just you, but putting just in front of Will Byers is a crime in my eyes. You’re incredibly compassionate, know how to work a gun better than anyone else I know, and you never let anyone else tell you what you should and should not feel. You cry when you get angry, frustrated, and sad. I, unfortunately, have been the cause of some of those tears. But, you have graciously forgiven me and now I have the extreme honor of standing in front of you now, saying my vows as I am about to be married to you for the rest of my life. I can’t help but think that life has been extraordinarily kind to us, Will, and I hope it will continue to do so.”

Will heard sniffing from their gathered friends, and he knew his cheeks were red from so much crying. But he bit his tongue and smiled. Mike’s vows were beautiful, as he had been promising they would be. When Mike went to college for English, he worried so much about being good enough and having the portfolio to make a name for himself. Will had the same worries about himself and his art, but nothing else mattered as long as they were together. Things would fall into place once they were settled.

Dustin gestures to Will, and Will’s hands shake as he pulls his own notebook paper from his pants pocket. Mike reaches out, brushing his fingers lightly against the back of Will’s hand, and it steadies him. Will breathes in and unfolds his paper.

“Some of you might believe that I’ve been dreaming about this specific scenario for my entire life, knowing it would never become true. With the world we live in and what I was taught by it and certain people in it, I would never have this. But, somehow, the impossible came true. Michael Wheeler, I have been in love with you since I was five years old. It might sound illogical, but I recognized those feelings from those romance movies we gagged at on the television. I recognized them in me, and they’ve always been there. My feelings for you have never wavered, no matter what we’ve been through or said to each other in moments of juvenile anger. We’ve hurt each other sometimes, but if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing if it was going to lead us here. I thought the world would end if anyone found out I was gay. I felt alone, and I assumed I would be alone forever. But my family and friend, you, Mike, you all loved me and told me so, through both actions and words. I never ever thought that this could happen to someone like me, where I could have this true life with my family and the boy I love beside me. It seems impossible that we’re here, standing in front of everyone now like this, declaring our love for one another. But then again, we’ve all seen stranger things.”

An understanding chuckle rose from the group as the statement was more than true.

“Mike and Will, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by whoever the hell cares and the state of Indiana, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and husband! You may kiss!”

There was a moment of hesitation from both of them before Will wrapped his arms around Mike and swept him low, pressing their lips together in a kiss that mimicked their first in terms of giddiness and fireworks. Mike’s hands threaded through his hair, and Will could feel the daisies popping out of their carefully orchestrated placement. When Will straightened Mike up, the noise came back to both of them. Their family had broken out the noisemakers, air horns, and cheering. This was the typical Midwest celebration, and both boys expected nothing less from their families.

The couple, hands linked together, didn’t even make it halfway down the aisle before El attacked them with hugs, and everyone else followed. Will, buried among arms and kisses, saw Jonathan aim his camera in their direction, and he made sure to smile with as many teeth as he could. Later, when Mike and Will moved to New York and received their wedding photos from Jonathan, this would be Will’s favorite picture that he would display prominently in their bedroom. It was his favorite because Will was smiling and happy, yes, but so was Mike as he looked over everyone else’s heads to watch will. The smile on his face was so loving and soft that teenage Mike would’ve been mortified, but adult Mike would look at it with pride.

The wedding was small, less than twenty people overall, so they all mingled and talked while pictures were being taken against the hedge wall. Jonathan even sacrificed his camera to Nancy when it was time for the Byers-Hopper family to take pictures together. Everyone was emotional in those, with Joyce making everyone tear up. But the tears were happy, and it was evident even through the pictures. Nancy even got some pictures of the three original Byers with Joyce sandwiched between her two grown-up sons and her smiling from ear to ear. There were pictures of the three siblings and then just some with Will and El.

Mike posed with Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, the ones who took him in permanently when his own parents kicked him out of the house at seventeen. He’d considered them his true parents after being disowned by the ones who created him, and they accepted the title with grace. There were separate pictures with Mike’s sisters, Holly, now fifteen and rebelling against her parents, and Nancy, a successful journalist engaged to Robin. Jonathan caught the moment when Nancy gave her brother the biggest bear hug she could, but the image did not capture what she whispered to him.

“You’re going to have an amazing life.”

There were, of course, pictures of the original party, then ones with El, and finally with Max. It felt weird to exclude the young women considering everything that they’d gone through together, but none of this could have happened if the four friends had never come together to form the group in the first place. As a joke, El demanded that she, Will, and Mike take a couple pictures together.

“No one else will understand the significance, but everyone here will.”

It had been long enough that everyone was feeling happy and content about the breakup between the two of them. When Will had come out to his family, Mike took the time to sit down with El and apologize for every shitty thing he’d done to her in their relationship and explain that it wasn’t her fault but his own due to the warring feelings in his heart. Even so, it wasn’t right to put her through that. El had understood completely and confessed her own attraction to girls. The talk ended with a hug and a new understanding of one another.

There were no best men or maids of honor because the group was all equal, and the love shared between the six of them in the party could not be strengthened or weakened. So, throughout the night, everyone talked to everyone, sharing anecdotes and having a grand time. The Byer’s house had never been so full of people with overflowing love and happiness as at this very moment.

Max had moved her equipment into the house with help from everyone and was now managing the low, happy pop music flowing through the speakers as the day wore on. Suit jackets were stripped away, and the potluck began. It was past five now, and people were hungry. Everyone brought out their best dishes, and Jim had been slow-cooking ribs since early evening yesterday, so the meat would fall off the bone. People sat on the floor in the living room, on the couch, and in the dining room. The small table in the kitchen was covered in food, as were most of the counters. Will took particular happiness in devouring quite a few of the bacon-wrapped shrimp.

Mike came up from behind, wrapping his arms around Will and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Hey husband, everyone wants us to cut the cake now,” he murmured into Will’s neck. The vibrations from Mike’s throat made him shiver. Will hummed, leaning his head back against Mike’s shoulder. They locked eyes, and Will pressed a kiss to the corner of Mike’s mouth.

“That means we have to put our jackets back on,” Will said.

“I know,” Mike groaned, pulling away and licking his lips. “You taste like bacon.”

Will turned with a laugh, holding out one of the shrimp for Mike, and the brown-eyed young man leaned forward, pulling the shrimp out of Will’s finger with his mouth.

“It’s good,” Mike spoke around the shrimp as he chewed.

“Let’s go cut the cake now,” Will said, linking his fingers together with his husband.

The cake cutting was sweet, with Mike and Will swiping the smallest bit of frosting onto each other’s cheeks. Will would catch the light flash of his husband’s wedding ring in the overhead lights and be blinded, but it was a welcome sensation. After all, he could say the same about his own ring. Will kissed the frosting off of Mike’s cheek and laughed as he turned bright red.

After everyone had their fill of the good food and cake, it was time for the dancing. Of course, the newlyweds were shuffled to the cleared space in the living room. The couch had been moved up against the wall, and everyone gathered in little clumps around the front room. Max is situated at her sound system and slips the cassette into the player. When Will and Mike had come to her months ago to be the DJ, she immediately agreed and asked about their first song. It had taken some deliberation, but they had finally decided on the perfect first song.

‘Watching every motion in my foolish lover’s game

On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame

Will felt himself melt into Mike, their chests pressed together. The next minutes would be more of Will’s favorite pictures in their wedding album. Both Mike and Will had the most lovestruck looks on their faces. Mike leaned in for a soft kiss as they approached the bridge.

“Take my breath away,” Will murmured into Mike’s mouth. Both of them had their eyes half closed as they swayed in the middle of the room.

“If middle school me saw us, he’d lose his shit, I think,” Mike murmured, his lips brushing against Will’s with every word he spoke.

“If elementary school me saw us, he’d also lose his shit. But I think he’d lose it in a happy way,” Will said with a smile.

“Yeah, he would be. He’d be so cute,” Mike whispered, the space between his eyebrows crinkling so hard that Will reached up and smoothed it out.

“Hey,” Will cooed. “No thinking sad things. It’s our wedding day.”

Even if Will’s words might sound stern, Mike knew he wasn’t actually upset at Mike expressing his feelings so visibly. It was something they’d worked on together and with Mike’s psychologist. Mike’s hands made their way up under Will’s tuxedo jacket, but above his dress shirt, and were simply rubbing his back as they swayed to the song, their feet knocking into each other every once in a while.

“I know. I’m happy, you know that.”

Months of waltzing practice were wasted as the newlyweds simply swayed back and forth on the floor, too lost in each other to care. The couple had taken the classes together but fronted that their fiancées were best friends and planning weddings within two weeks of each other. It was the perfect ruse. Will smiled into the collar of Mike’s jacket at the memory. Jonathan floated through the smattering of people, his camera flashing every once in a while. Joyce watched from her spot on the couch against the wall, hands over her heart as tears poured from her eyes. Her baby was all grown up and going off to live life.

The reception began to settle down when Nancy had to take Holly home at ten. Ted and Karen didn’t know that she had attended and would be furious if she arrived after her curfew. Holly wanted to stay longer but left after Mike promised to call her more frequently when he was in New York. They parted with a nice hug. It was a day full of hugs, and why wouldn’t it be? Pure love often takes the form of hugs.

The Sinclair family was next. Erica had used all of her vacation days from her internship with the Governor of California and had to take a red-eye back that night. Sue and Charles kissed Mike on the cheek each and headed out to drive their daughter to the airport. Mike walked them out to their car, talking all the while, and kept them for another twenty minutes. He watched them drive down the gravel road, only mildly registering the click of a camera behind him.

Jonathan was stuck behind his camera all day and night, but the huge smile on his face told everyone that he didn’t mind. Plus, Argyle also took the camera from him so he could also enjoy the day, something Will asked him to do for his brother’s sake.

El had been coasting along, making sure everyone’s drinks were filled, and everyone was having a good time. All signs pointed to yes. She was in the kitchen, packing up all the dishes that had been left over. Jim came into the kitchen then, hands tucked into his pockets.

“How’s my baby?”

El smiled, pushing back some hair that had fallen out of her updo. It was longer than it had ever been, and she was finally using some products to enhance her natural wave pattern. Her father wrapped his arms around her from the side, pulling her into his chest. She smelled his cologne which hadn’t changed since she was ten.

“Are you happy it’s over?”

El hummed, tapping her nails on the counter.

“Sort of. I’m relieved that everything went well with no sort of… other disasters.”

The father-daughter duo gazed out the kitchen window into the darkness, the pergola just barely visible in the back of the yard. El had narrowed her eyes like she was searching for something.

“But now I have nothing to inspire me for my next semester. Maybe I should make Nancy and Robin’s dresses.”

Jim chuckled, kissing the top of his daughter’s head. She laughed as well, wrapping her arms around his neck, still facing the window.

“Maybe. I’m sure they’d let you. They know how good you did with Will’s suit,” Jim said casually.

“Maybe,” El said with a yawn. “But for now, I just want to enjoy this wedding. There’s been a lot of them this year.”

“Is yours coming soon?”

El stepped away, mouth and nose wrinkling in that very special way that El moved her face. Jim resisted telling her what a cutie she was.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s my thing.”

“That’s alright too.”

The celebration wouldn’t be complete without a dance with the mother of the groom. Will actually waltzed with his mother, teaching her the steps and laughing along. Mike watched from the sidelines, a cup of water in his hands. Argyle slides up, hand coming up to Mike’s opposite shoulder.

“How you feeling, my dude? Is it everything you imagined?”

Mike smiles into his cup and wraps an arm around Argyle, mimicking the other man’s pose. They’d become closer over the years, and of course, the wedding planning and obtaining a marriage license had forged a bond that couldn’t be broken as brothers-in-law. Mike looked out at Will catching his mom after she tripped over his feet again and felt his chest opening up for the first time since the wedding planning had begun several years ago.

“It’s great, man. I do sort of wish that my mom was here at least. I don’t feel like she’d miss this under normal circumstances,” Mike said into his cup.

“Yeah. Such is life though. But now that you’re a Byers, things will look all the way up, my man,” Argyle says with a grin. He’d braided his hair for the wedding, and he looked very nice in his dress shirt and slacks. While he’d been dancing, Mike pointed out to Will that he was wearing his favorite pair of rainbow socks for the occasion.

“I can believe it, one hundred percent. I may have lost some of my family, but I’ve gained more.”

The celebration wouldn’t last much longer after that. Dustin had to be up early to catch his flight back to Texas tomorrow, and he was staying with Max and Lucas, so they all left as a trio. Mike made fun of his friend for not having any leeway with NASA, and Dustin only flipped him off after a hug. Max and Lucas would be returning home to California after a few more days with Lucas’ parents.

“See you soon. Call us when you have your new apartment. We’ll need to get the dice together,” Lucas said, pulling Mike close. In the time when Lucas and Mike shared a room, they had grown as close as brothers. Both young men still had their own siblings, but uniting best friends by the tragedy of Mike’s coming out meant so much.

“For sure. My campaign writing skills are a little rusty,” Mike said with a grin.

“Impossible. You never grow out of being a nerd,” Max said, sliding an arm around Lucas’ shoulders. “Plus, you’re gunning for the New York Times Bestseller list and you’ll make it.”

“Thanks, Mad Max.”

Max groaned as she pulled Mike into a hug, then the couple gave their affection and encouraging words to Will.

“If he says some annoying shit to you, you’re always welcome at our apartment.”

“Hey,” Mike said sharply. “Don’t steal my husband from me!”

“Keep yourself in check then, Wheeler,” Max shot back, punching him in the arm.

“Byers, actually,” Will said, grinning wide and so, so cute.

“Ugh, you two are impossible.”

When it was only the Byers-Hopper family left in the house, everyone pitched in with the cleaning. No one paid mind to the pergola outside because Joyce said she might want to put a seating area out there. The newlyweds had no problem with this.

“Good night, my beautiful boys,” Joyce said, squishing her son and new son-in-law to either of her cheeks. She was definitely a little tipsy, but her husband led her to bed for the night, wishing the boys well and to see them tomorrow for a celebratory breakfast at the diner.

The day had started and gradually grown louder, and in the same way, it grew quieter until there was only the singing of crickets accompanying the sounds of sleep in the Byers household. The newlyweds were shuffling about, trying to get comfortable in Will’s bed from high school. Mike was looking around the darkened room with fresh eyes, seeing how even four years away could change his entire worldview.

Will settled on top of Mike’s bare chest, Mike’s fingers tracing between the moles on his shoulders, while Will did the same with Mike’s freckles. Will looked into Mike’s eyes, which flashed from the moonlight outside. His eyes had turned into dark pools with scattered silver blossoms in them.

“I can’t believe we’re married, Mike.”

“Me either,” Mike whispered into Will’s hair.

“I meant what I said. I never thought I could have this, could have you.”

“We would have ended up together eventually, even if it took me longer to realize why El was the only girl I ever thought I liked.”

Will hummed, breathing in the scent of Mike’s skin and feeling such a sense of contentment fall over him that he would have fallen asleep right then and there if his husband hadn’t shifted again, nudging his shoulder.

“It’s like the other part you said in your vows,” Mike slurred, clearly becoming drowsy as well.

“Hmm?”

“How you said it was impossible to kid you that it happened but-“

“We’ve all seen stranger things,” Will joined in, lifting his chin to prop it up on Mike’s chest.

“Yeah, that.”

The couple fell asleep in this way, curled into each other and with promises of their new future together on the horizon when they woke.

#byler #byler fic #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #i haven't posted fanfic on this account in years but this feels right somehow #stranger things #stranger thing fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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