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lovecla · 5 months ago

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TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.1. the first time you saw quinn hughes.

➴ chapter warnings: mentions of shitty family.

➴ word count: 1.08k

💌 from me to you: this has been sitting on my drafts for days because i wasn’t brave enough to post it. but this story is very important to me and i promised myself i’d stop doubting what i write and just go for it. i hope with all my heart u guys like this ♡

౨ৎ

2013, SEPTEMBER.

THE first time you saw Quinn Hughes you were eleven years old.

Your family had just bought the house next to his, a beautiful four bedroom house with lots of space and a beautiful backyard— the perfect house for a family of four.

It was a week after you all settled in, your Dad as a Sports Medicine Physician working for a Hockey Canadian team, the Toronto Maple Leafs— the whole reason why you moved in the first place— your Mom as a Editor-in-Chief for the Fashion magazine, one of Canada's leading fashion publications, featuring content related to fashion, beauty, culture, and modeling and your brother, Peter, in High School as a freshman.

You were sitting on your porch, while you waited for Peter to be back so you could convince him to play football with you. He always said no, but you didn't give up. A few minutes later, Peter got out of your neighbor’s house, alongside another boy, who was slightly shorter than Peter.

You watched as they both walked towards your house, talking about something you couldn’t hear. You remember being so enamored with the sight of the boy that you couldn’t stop fidgeting your hands.

They stopped right in front of you, and while Peter was ready to ignore you and move on with his day— he’d been doing that more and more since he started High School— the other boy stopped and looked right at you.

“You didn’t tell me you have a sister.” The boy said, looking at your brother for a second before turning back at you.

“Oh, yeah,” Peter shrugged. “That’s Madison. She’s ten.”

“I’m eleven,” you corrected, voice soft and quiet.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, grabbing his keys so he could open the front door.

“Can you play with me now?” You asked, getting up from your seat, finally noticing how tall this other boy was. “I have the ball with me already.” You pointed at the ball that sat on the same couch you were also sitting not a minute ago.

“No, Madison. I’m with Quinn now.” Peter said, pointing at the boy beside him, who was now frowning at your brother.

Quinn. That’s a funny name, you remember thinking.

“We can play with her, I don’t mind—” the boy, Quinn, said, already reaching for the ball.

“Nah, bro. She’s annoying as hell. Once you pick that ball up, you won’t be able to let it go for like, three hours.” Peter replied, already opening the door.

You felt yourself tearing up and even though you hated crying in front of your brother, you couldn’t help it. Growing up, he was your best friend. Your hero even, when your parents decided that arguing during dinner, in front of their children, was a nice thing to do and he would make funny faces at you across the table just so you could laugh. When he pretended to yell at the monster under your bed or when he let you paint his nails with your pink nail polish.

But somewhere between turning fifteen and entering High School, he changed. And you hated every inch of this new Peter Carter.

He entered the house, shouting something, probably announcing to your mom that he was home. And you stood there, looking at your hands.

“Next time, I’ll play with you, okay?” Quinn, who was still standing in front of you, hesitated, looking as devastated as ever.

You felt embarrassed and you got out of there as fast as you could, running back inside and nestling yourself between your covers and plushies.

౨ৎ

YOU didn’t think Quinn had meant what he had said the other day, so you were surprised to see that he showed up the next morning, when both of your parents were at work and Peter was asleep in his bedroom upstairs.

“Hey,” he greeted you, stepping on your backyard patio and looking around. “Nice place you got here. We can play for a long time without risking throwing the ball in Mrs. Wright window.”

You giggled, remembering Mrs. Wright's funny wig.

“I’m Quinn Hughes.” He introduced himself after a while.

“I know that,” you whispered, watching as he laughed. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirteen, but I turn fourteen on October 14th,” he said. “You’re eleven, right?”

“Yes. My birthday was in February. I got this ball,” you raised the ball you were holding so he could see it better. It had your name on it. “And I also got new clothes for my plushies.”

“That sounds nice,” he nodded. “I’ll probably get a new stick on my birthday.”

“Why would you need a stick?” You asked, not sure what he could do with a stick. A tree’s stick. At least that’s what you thought a stick was.

Maybe he wants to put it on his fireplace.

“I play Hockey,” he answered and you still didn’t understand. The only thing you knew about Hockey was that it was the reason you and your family moved to Toronto. So it probably wasn’t a good thing. “And I need a new one.”

“Well, if it makes you happy, then I guess it’s fine,” you shrugged, poking your ball. “But that will probably be boring. You should ask for something cooler.”

He laughed again, sitting on the grass beside you. “I’ll think about that. Thank you for your advice.”

You puffed your chest a little, happy to feel useful for once.

That morning, you and Quinn didn’t end up playing; instead, you talked for hours, with you both asking each other questions about literally everything. From what’s your favorite color to what you wanna be when you grow up.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest every time you stared into his blue eyes that sometimes morphed into a light green shade, but you didn’t understand why. Quinn was being nice, he was treating you just like Peter did before you moved to Toronto and it felt so, so nice.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You asked, right before he left for lunch at his house.

“I think so.” He smiled, quickly patting you on the head. He gave you a short wave before moving back to his home.

And you just stood there, counting the seconds so that maybe tomorrow would come faster, and you’d finally have a friend again.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x model!fmc #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl x reader #quinn hughes smut #TYPA

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stylesispunk · 1 year ago

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"The not so invisible string" | part 2

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

chapter summary: You and Joel had a "lunch" together and some things were said, and the past between you both is meeting the present.

word count: 5k.

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). I probably made some grammar mistakes because I write things fast. Not proofreading, ups. Italics are flashbacks <3

a/n: Chapter two is here!! Thank you so much for your nice comments and appreciation for the previous chapter, I didn't think it would be good enough but thanks for appreciating. This one is less intense than the first one, but we still have a story to develop. I'm on my summer break from work, so I hope to have time to keep writing. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 p.s if you wann be taglisted, please I'm so shy so I feel asshamed of tagging people if you don't tell me 😳 and if I forgot someone, sorry 😭

dividers by @/saradika

"Are you waiting to see her again?" Sarah asked when Joel was parking outside school before driving to his job.

"Who?" He asked, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling settled in his stomach at the minimum possibility of seeing you again.

"Tara's mom?" She said, leaning toward his dad, "What's the issue with her, by the way? Was she your ex or something?”

"No,” he said immediately.

“So why did you get so nervous?"

"She is the love of my life," he confessed, not turning his face to Sarah in shame of being seen in such a vulnerable state.

When you were a parent, you never showed yourself vulnerable in front of your children; you never allowed them to see that part of you that’s beneath what they knew. But when they grow up, they understand you would never be a hero, but a human living life for the first time too.

Sarah's eyes widened at Joel's unexpected confession. The revelation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension inside the car.

"The love of your life?" Sarah echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. "But you never mentioned her before."

Joel sighed, his eyes fixed on the steering wheel as if it held the answers to a long-buried history. "It's complicated," he finally admitted. "We were each other's first love, but things didn't work out. We went our separate ways, and I thought I had moved on."

"But seeing her again..." he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "I never expected her to be here again."

Sarah studied Joel's profile, recognizing the struggle in his eyes. "And what about Tara's mom? Does she feel the same way?"

"I don't know," Joel confessed, a heaviness settling in his chest. "It's been thirteen years, and a lot has changed. She has a daughter now, and I have my own life."

Sarah reached out, placing a comforting hand on her dad’s shoulder. "Well, life is surprising," she said. "Maybe it's a chance for both of you to find closure, or maybe even something more. Who knows?"

Joel nodded, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future swirling around him.

“Perhaps” He said, “Okay, now go to class before you get late.” He hurried Sarah, but before she closed the door, a bolt of thought invaded his mind before he could even think.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

She nodded.

“Ask Tara for her mother’s number, please.”

Sarah grinned, nodding her head and blowing a kiss to his father.

The days had passed, and life had settled into a new routine for you, unemployed and doing house chores, feeling just as the same twenty-two-year-old you once were.

But that wasn’t your only thought in the back of your mind. Since the day you had seen Joel, you hadn’t been able to take him off your mind, and as if it weren’t already difficult, Tara and Sarah were slowly becoming best friends, just as you and Joel were someday back when you had anything to lose.

For Joel, things weren’t different. There wasn’t a second of the day since he had seen you that he hadn’t thought about you. About how gorgeous you still looked and how much he had missed you for the past years. Despite the investable passing of time, the past seemed to cast a long shadow over the present; he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that had resurfaced since he saw you.

Late one night, he found himself staring at his phone. Since Sarah got your number from Tara, he has been doing the same, contemplating whether to send a message. The words formed in his mind, but typing them out was a whole different thing for him. Trapped between the enormous desire to know about you or to let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

But before he could even formulate the thought, he pressed send.

Unknown number

"Hi, it’s me, Joel"

Your phone vibrated on your side of the bed.

"Honey?" Dwight called out,

“Yes?" you asked from the bathroom.

“Why is a Joel messaging you at this hour?”

You paused, the sensation of cold cream on your fingertips suddenly forgotten. The name "Joel" seemed too foreign on Dwight's lips; you even felt guilty.

"It's probably just something about Tara," you replied, forcing nonchalance into your tone. But the unease crept into your voice, betraying the facade.

Dwight's curiosity lingered in the room as you picked up your phone. The screen illuminated with a new message, and the familiar ache resurfaced in your heart.

Unknown number

Sorry for sending this at this time, but I've been thinking a lot about you since our unexpected meeting, and I was wondering if we could talk. No pressure, just a conversation.

You felt a mix of emotions—surprise, apprehension, and a tinge of curiosity. The late-night timing added an unexpected layer of intensity to the message.

"Honey, is everything okay?" Dwight's voice carried a note of concern.

"Yeah, it's probably about Tara or something. I'll go better call him,” you replied, forcing a smile. But deep down, you knew that hearing his voice through a phone would do enough damage to you.

“Hello sunshine! How it’s my best girl doing?” he exclaimed, his sleepy voice from this time in the morning melted you.

“I’m better now that you called”

“Remember I’m always just a call away from you, doe”

The hallway felt colder as you left the room, and the phone gripped tightly in your hand. Your heart raced against your chest, its rhythm echoing the uncertainty of the moment. As you pressed the button to call Joel, each second felt like an eternity.

The phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring, Joel's voice filled the air. "Hello?"

"How did you get my number?” you asked

"I... "I... uh, well," Joel stammered on the other end of the line, a hint of unease in his voice. "Sarah got it from Tara.”

Your mind raced with a mix of emotions—surprise, frustration, and a touch of understanding due to your daughters’ becoming friends.

"You could have asked," you replied, the tension evident in your voice. "But fine, what did you want to talk about?"

There was a pause, and you could almost hear Joel gathering his thoughts on the other end. "I've been thinking a lot about the past, about us," he admitted. "I never got the chance to properly apologize for how things ended. I just want to talk, to understand, and maybe find closure."

Closure. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years gone by.

You didn’t want to have closure with him; you didn’t want to forget.

"Joel, it's been thirteen years," you said, a mix of weariness and frustration coloring your words. "We've both moved on. What's the point of digging up the past now?"

"I know, and I respect that," Joel responded, his tone earnest. "But I've carried the weight of what happened between us for a long time. Maybe talking about it will help both of us. Besides Sarah and Tara, we could talk about them."

You sighed, the complexity of the situation settling around you. "Fine, let's meet. But just this once. I have a life, Joel, and I can't afford to let the past disrupt it."

"Thank you," Joel said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "I appreciate this, truly. Let's find a time.

"Tomorrow,” you said, interrupting his rambling.

Tomorrow? It seemed like too soon you were conflicted between the desire to see him again and the guilt of not being able to erase that part of your life.

“Okay, tomorrow at lunch” he spoke after what it seemed like minutes “I’ll send you the address.”

“Okay.” You whispered, “Have a goodnight, Joel”

“Good night, doe” he replied, before realizing how he had called you, he ended the call leaving you with no chance to answer back.

You were speechless, and the hallway felt emptier than before. Nobody had called you “Doe” since you parted ways with Joel, as if the nickname was forbidden from the lips of any person who wasn’t him, carrying a reminder of a time when the two of you shared your own language.

“From now on I’m calling you, Doe”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head

“Because you looked so innocent with those bright eyes of you and you remind me of Bambi but I don’t want to call you that”

“What’s wrong with Bambi?”

“Nothing” he replied, “We could actually be like Bambi and Thumper”

As you walked back into the bedroom, Dwight looked up from his book, sensing the turmoil in your expression. "Everything okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, just Joel wants to meet tomorrow to talk."

Dwight raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I can go."

"No, I know," you replied, sinking onto the bed. "But it’s nothing bad... I actually know Joel from before. "You confessed without looking at Dwight.”

Dwight's expression softened as he processed your confession. "Before we met?"

You nodded, finally meeting his gaze. "Yeah, Joel and I have history. We were close—really close. We were actually best friends,” you said, omitting the “he is the love of my life” part.

Understanding flickered in Dwight's eyes, and he reached out, gently cupping your face. "You don't have to go through with this if it makes you uncomfortable. I trust you, and I trust whatever decision you make."

A mix of gratitude and guilt welled up within you. "I appreciate that, Dwight.”

He nodded, offering a supportive smile. "I'll be here for you, no matter what."

After that, Dwight closed his book and said goodnight to you, falling asleep a few minutes later. It seemed odd for you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird because of his attitude, as if he didn’t care about you meeting with another guy.

Dwight's seemingly indifferent response to your revelation about Joel left you feeling conflicted. Was it a sign of trust and confidence in your commitment to the present, or was there an undercurrent of something else?

As you drove to the restaurant Joel had suggested, your mind buzzed with memories of your shared past. The streets seemed to echo with the laughter and conversations of your younger selves. Navigating through familiar lanes, you couldn't escape the gravitational pull of nostalgia.

The restaurant's entrance loomed ahead, and you found yourself hesitating. The realization struck—this wasn't just a casual meeting; it was a reunion with someone who had once been the center of your world.

Once you stepped inside the restaurant Joel told you about, you were faced with reality. You were a married woman, going to have lunch not with another man who was your ex-boyfriend but with the love of your life. Your heart was beating so hard against your ribcage that you almost felt how your bones crashed at the impact.

You stopped at the entrance; your face was heating up. You wanted to leave, but before you could even make up your mind, those brown eyes found you, and you couldn't turn away.

Breathe in, breathe out.

One step, then another step.

It seemed like hours, but there you were, in front of the boy with brown eyes who put a bandage on your knee when you fell on the pavement at 5 years old. You were there in front of the teenager who kissed you at seventeen on a random night after doing homework in your bedroom.

You had decided to conquer the world—or at least the little corner of it that belonged to your shared imagination. As you ran through the streets, giggles and laughter echoing, it happened—the inevitable collision with the ground. Your knees met the pavement, and the sting of scraped skin sent tears streaming down your cheeks.

That's when Joel appeared, like a knight in a tiny superhero cape. His mom, hearing the commotion, had rushed him outside to play. In his hand, he held a box of colorful, cartoon-themed band-aids. With the unwavering confidence of a five-year-old, he approached you.

"Don't cry, okay? I've got something to fix you up," Joel declared, his eyes wide with sincerity.

As he carefully placed a band-aid on your scraped knee, something shifted. It was more than just a simple act of putting on a band-aid; it was the beginning of a connection that would thread through the fabric of your lives for years to come.

"See, all is better!" Joel announced, grinning proudly as if he had just mended the universe. “I’m Joel,” he said happily. “What’s your name?”

You were surprised and speechless; you felt enamored by the kid in front of you, but in your brain, the boy was still gross.

Joel's expression mirrored a mix of surprise and recognition. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you both stood there, caught in the gravity of your intertwined past.

But it seemed to be the night you were back in the house he had bought with the help of his parents, where you were supposed to grow old together. It looked like that night you came back, hoping to begin again.

But it wasn't, and time didn't stop because two lovers couldn't survive in the currents of the sea.

"Hi, doe," he greeted you, standing up from his seat.

Doe.

"Joel," you greeted back, gracing a small smile.

"Lovie" is forbidden now.

"Please, take a seat," he said, signaling at the seat in front of him.

You didn't know how to react, what to do, or what to say, so you sat on the chair, trying to ease your heart's beating.

Joel's gaze never left your form; instead, it traveled down your figure, but the golden band on your finger stopped his curious gaze, and somehow he felt the urge to cry.

He had always pictured the shiny rock he had bought for you back those years ago, wrapped around your finger.

If he had told you he spent those late nights doing extra work only to buy that piece of jewelry for you, perhaps you would be the one wearing it now, and in this situation, it would be one of those moments you share lunch between your work schedules.

But that shiny ring wrapped echoes of missed opportunities, and the haunting what-ifs painted a poignant portrait of a love that had slipped through his fingers.

You had been waiting, the anticipation mingling with worry as the hands of the clock inched forward. The scent of a hastily prepared dinner lingered in the air, growing colder with each passing minute. Joel's absence, became a palpable presence in the room.

As the door finally creaked open, revealing Joel's figure in the dim light, a wave of emotions crashed over you. The relief of his arrival was quickly overshadowed by the frustration that had been building within.

"Joel, do you have any idea what time it is?" you snapped, the words escaping before you could temper the edge in your voice.

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. "I lost track of time at work. I'm sorry," he offered, attempting to diffuse the tension.

The apology, however, fell on ears numbed by the repetition of similar excuses. The words that followed, laden with accusations and frustrations, transformed the night into a battleground of emotions. The promises made in the glow of love were replaced by the harsh reality of unmet expectations.

"I can't do this, Joel. I can't keep waiting for you every night," you uttered your voice a mix of exhaustion and hurt.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "I'm doing all of this for us. I'm working hard to provide for our future."

He had never sold the ring; he couldn't do it, thinking you would have come back to your home and built your story from the cracked fragments.

But he had made a mistake; however, that mistake that made you slip through his fingers brought his daughter to him, and he couldn’t find the strength to blame that night anymore.

And he thought that for you, it may have been the same; you have had a daughter too, and he knows that you love her more than life itself.

It was almost poetic; the mistakes that had separated you had, in a strange twist of fate, become the catalyst for a reunion. The bond between Joel and his daughter, the same bond you had with Tara, seemed to mirror the intricate threads that wove your lives together once again.

“So, how have you been?” he began asking.

“I thought you wanted to talk about our daughters,” you replied, deflecting the conversation to the common ground that had brought you back together.

Joel's eyes held a glimmer of nostalgia. "Come on, Doe, you know I care about you."

“Please don’t call me that,” you pleaded in almost a whisper.

Joel's expression shifted, a mix of realization and regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he apologized, the sincerity in his voice evident. "I didn't mean to.”

“But I’ve been fine.” You finally said that, looking at him.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I can’t help but be surprised about you being Tara’s mother."

“Why? Is it too hard to believe I’m a mother?”

Joel's eyes softened, and he shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's just... it's surreal, you know? Seeing you as a mother, I mean, Tara is the same age as Sarah.”

“I got pregnant a few months after we..."

“We broke up,” he said, ending the sentence for you.

“Yes. I met Dwight one night, and I got pregnant.”

“You got over things soon, then,” he added in an undertone.

“What does that mean?” You asked in a defensive tone.

Joel sighed, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... seeing you move on so quickly, it's

"No, tell me!” you exclaimed. “Do you think it was going to be easy for me to stay with you while you take care of another woman who was carrying your baby? 2

“Yet, you still had a daughter with another man.”

“So what? It was forbidden for me to hook up with a guy because I was fucking broke. Yes, I ended up pregnant, but...

“But what?” he inquired.

“It should have been you!" You cried, not knowing why you were acting so childish. "It was always supposed to be you." You repeated, calmer, "Since we were seventeen, I picture you being the father of my child."

Joel's gaze held a mix of surprise and remorse, realizing the depth of your emotions. "Doe, I never meant to hurt you. I had my own struggles, and I made mistakes."

"It's not about the mistakes, Joel," you said, wiping away a tear. "It's about the dreams we had and how they shattered. I loved you, and I imagined a future with you.

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the weight of unsaid words and the echoes of a shared past. The restaurant seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of unresolved emotions.

“You know this is repeating again,” you chuckled between tears. “I’m here with you while I’m crying all over again. I had to leave my job and move back to the city that throws the past in my face, and I can’t find a job."You covered your face with your hands.

Joel's eyes held a mixture of empathy and regret as he listened to your words. The ache of the past lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the dreams that had slipped through your fingers.

"I wish I could change it all," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of shared regrets. "I never wanted you to leave, and seeing you hurt now... it hurts me too."

"But we can't go back," you replied with a resigned tone in your voice. "We're both different people now, living different lives. Maybe it's time to accept that some wounds don't fully heal."

“But we can be civil to each other, at least for our daughter’s sake,” he said, his voice soft.

You looked at him, your tear-streaked face reflecting a mixture of pain and acceptance. For a moment, you considered his words, acknowledging the shared responsibility of raising daughters who were connected by a blossoming friendship.

"Yeah," you agreed, a weary smile on your face. "We owe it to them to be civil, to show them that even when things don't work out, people can still be respectful and caring."

Joel nodded, a somber understanding passing between you. At that moment, you both recognized the importance of setting aside personal grievances for the sake of your daughters.

“You know? About the job, Tommy and I need an assistant.”

Your eyes widened at Joel's unexpected offer; the surprise was evident on your face. The mention of a job opportunity brought a glimmer of hope amid the emotional turbulence. It was as if a door, long thought closed, cracked open with the possibility of a new beginning.

"An assistant?" you repeated, the idea taking a moment to sink in. "Are you serious?"

Joel nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I am. We're expanding, and having you would be nice.”

"I appreciate the offer," you finally said, your voice cautious. "But-

“Just think about it; if you want the job, you can call me tomorrow or go to our office," Joel added, his tone sincere.

“You know what? He asked after your silence, leaning into the table, "You are still looking at me with the same eyes you did before.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. There was a moment of vulnerability in his eyes—a flicker of the past that hadn't entirely dissipated. The connection between you, despite the years and the changes, lingered in the unspoken words that floated in the air.

"I don't know what you mean," you replied, attempting to mask the emotions that swirled within.

Joel chuckled softly, a nostalgic warmth in his gaze. "Doe, you always had this way of seeing through me. Even now, those eyes of yours... they haven't changed."

"I'm married."

“So what? Can’t you have friends? He asked.

“What about Sarah’s mother? Wouldn’t she get mad at you for being with your ex-girlfriend?"

“That’s funny because we’re not together,” he confessed with a weird smile on his face. “We never were together. After Sarah was born, she left us.”

The revelation hung in the air, a mix of surprise and confusion settling between you. The complexity of his past mirrored your own, and in that shared vulnerability, there was an unspoken understanding.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you offered, genuine sympathy in your voice.

"It's okay," Joel replied, a shrug accompanying his words. "She is married to another man, and she had a son, but I won because I had Sarah.”

“It’s fun how our daughters brought us together,” you said calmly.

"It's true," Joel acknowledged, a wistful smile playing on his lips. Our daughters seem to be the common thread weaving through our lives now."

You smiled, feeling butterflies dancing inside your stomach. The closeness to Joel felt foreign yet so familiar, and all the sentiments making your way through your heart were there again, suffocating you.

“I should get going,” you said, out of the blue.

“But you haven't eaten yet.”

“I know, but it’s getting late, and I have to go back to my house.”

"Okay,” he said, knowing you were making a lie to run away again, yet he didn’t pressure you.

"I appreciate you taking the time to talk," Joel said, breaking the silence. "And about the job, just think it over. No pressure. Whatever you decide, I'm here for you, even if it's just as a friend."

“Thank you, Joel,” you smiled.

And when you walked away to leave the restaurant, you stopped by the door just to have a second look at him, and when you turned, he was looking at you just as you knew he would.

You smiled at him, and he smiled back at you, mouthing a quiet "take care" in a language only your interlocked gazes understood.

And once you stepped outside, he was left in the restaurant, following you with his eyes.

You weren't the mother of his friend's daughter, but the girl in two ponytails was crying because of a scratch on her knee.

You were once his best friend,

You were once his lover, but that word was a small portion of what you were to him. No, you weren't his lover, but his twin flame that painted every single day of his life blue—the flame that never allowed him to dream about anybody else but you.

And you were the love of his life.

But Joel would do anything to get back on the first step, just to keep you close. He would rather have you back as his best friend than not have you anymore, even if his heart hurts in the process.

You were never his, but he felt the string pulling you together, just like the unbreakable chain you had hanging around your neck since he had memories of you, and he was going to do things right this time because he wasn't able to play pretend knowing there was no gap between you anymore.

You drove around the city for an hour straight, navigating through the streets. Joel used to drive you around when trying to ease your mood after fights with your parents.

You had taken your love and packed it in a tiny little box to protect your heart from breaking.

And when you stopped outside your house, you cried. You sobbed like a little girl waking up from a nightmare. Joel still echoed in your mind, and you accepted that you would never be able to let that part of your life go, so you sobbed, and in that moment of vulnerability, you allowed yourself to grieve for what was lost.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry,” Joel said when you didn’t say your name after his introduction.

As the tears subsided, you took a deep breath, the weight in your chest easing slightly, and you stepped out of your car and walked to your house.

The key turned in the lock, the door creaked open, and you stepped into the coldness of your home. You thought about the offer Joel talked to you about, but accepting would be a suicide, and as tempting as the invitation seemed at the edge of your consciousness. However, spending more hours of the day seeing him seemed like being unfaithful to your husband.

As you walked into the living room, Tara glanced up from her phone, and you noticed the concern in her eyes.

"Hi, mom," Tara said, greeting you with a smile on her face.

"Hey, sweets," you said, smiling back at her.

"How was it with Joel?" she asked, setting aside her phone.

"It was... complicated," you admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her.

Tara placed a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Complicated how?"

"He offered me a job," you explained, "and it's not an easy decision to make."

"A job? Why?" Tara asked, her curiosity piqued.

"He thought it could be a good opportunity for us," you replied, choosing your words carefully.

Tara's eyes widened in realization.

“To rekindle our friendship,” you said, before she thought badly of you.

"Are you considering it?"

You sighed, grateful for your daughter's understanding. "I don't know, sweetheart. It's a lot to think about. It's not just a job; it's a connection to our past, to him."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm here for you. Just make sure it's what you want.”

“And what about your dad?” you asked

“He is not your boss."

Tara's straightforward response made you chuckle. "No, he's not. But he's my husband, and I should consider his feelings too."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Mom, you're allowed to have a life outside of being a wife.”

You admired Tara's maturity, appreciating the clarity in her perspective. "You've grown into a wise young woman, you know that?"

A hint of a smile touched Tara's lips. "Well, I've had a good teacher." She leaned in for a hug, and you embraced her, thankful for the bond you shared.

You found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Later, after Tara had gone to do her homework, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. The house was quiet, still not in sight of Dwight coming home, and the decision about Joel's job offer lingered in the air like a delicate whisper. You knew it wasn't just about work; it was about revisiting a past that had shaped you in ways you couldn't deny.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed Joel's number. The call rang for a few moments, and then his voice filled the silence. "Hello?"

"Hi, Joel. It's me," you said, the hesitation evident in your voice.

"Doe?" he responded, surprised.

"What did I say about calling me that?" you asked, with a tiny smile on your face.

“Right. I’m sorry”

"I've been thinking about your job offer. Can we meet tomorrow at your workplace to talk about it?"

A brief pause followed, and then Joel replied, "Of course, I'll text you the address.”

"Okay,” you said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied. “Take care.”

The call ended, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was coming into your life again.

Towards the end of the conversation, Tommy glanced at Joel with a skeptical smile on his face. "Do we really need an assistant?" he inquired, unaware of his brother's hidden intentions.

"No," Joel replied, a smile playing on his lips. "But we're going to have one."

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981

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f4iry-bell · 8 months ago

Note

Grayson with fem!pregnant reader? 🫣

grayson hawthorne x pregnant!reader

hii, i hope you like it. if you have any other specific scenario in mind you can req!!

warning: mention of tobias, panick attack, feeling unworthy, abandonment issue if you squint.

The volume of her voice was slowly disappearing to Grayson. He could feel the sweat on head and palms as his heart was beating faster than it should. This cannot be happening. No, he's young even if he wasn't this can't happen. Even if it is with her.

“Grayson!” Her voice raised, the way her chest was rising up and down showed him that she's just as afraid as him. Grayson was not mentally prepared for this situation. This situation never occurred in his mind ever. “Say something.” She pleaded.

He exhaled through his mouth and said “I-I need a moment.”

“Wait!” He didn't hear anything else as he stormed out of the room grabbing his key from her apartment.

He drove back to the Hawthorne House. He prayed no one would be there as he went straight to the pool. With just his boxers Grayson dived into the pool, he stayed down for more than usual.

Images of his own biological father and his words came to his mind. Words of his grandfather, how he raised Grayson and his brothers, how he has damaged them. Grayson doesn't know any other way, he was under his grandfather's wing, he was raised to be perfect and extraordinary. And yet he was the most damaged Hawthorne. By heavens he found her and she has accepted him for him. But a child? How will it accept a broken father who knows nothing about raising children other than the way his grandfather had.

All he could think was how disappointed his grandfather would be in him if he was here, how he would point out Grayson’s irresponsible action. How he would have ‘handled’ the situation like he handled his mother’s.

When he finally stopped swimming his life out he checked his phone expecting her to call him but he found none. Zero calls and texts from her. He immediately grabbed his clothes and walked as fast as he could to his car to drive to her apartment.

He hated himself right then for how selfish he has been. He didn't think about her, who is actually carrying their child. He let his emotions and personal issues get all over. He will never forgive himself for how he left her there.

When he reached her apartment he knocked hastily. He was scared, she'll be mad and won't let him in. She will raise their child alone rather than let it be raised by someone like him. Someone who couldn't even process important news like an adult. Someone broken as him, unworthy of being a father. Maybe the baby will be better off without him.

He stopped knocking and was about to leave when the door opened. He expected her to ask him to leave but instead her face relaxed, in relief to see him and stepped forward to hug him.

He whispered her name.

“I thought you weren't going to come back.” She cried in his arms. “I thought you were leaving me. Leaving us.”

“You're not mad?” He asked, surprised.

“I was, I thought you needed time to process. But it was getting late, Gray. I thought you did not want us.” She pulled back to see him, her eyes were pooled with tears.

“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have just taken off like that. Please forgive me. I swear you'll never not see me after this moment. I'll be by your side all the time. You can move to my House, or I could move here. Or we could get a new house, bigger. All three of us cannot live in this apartment, if you don't want to come to Hawthorne House.” He would have kept going on about how he would handle this if she didn't stop him.

“Grayson.” She chuckled. “We do not have to get a new house, the baby isn't coming out anytime soon.”

“Right.” He was relieved that she stopped crying.

“I do not forgive you for leaving me like that for a while without a word.” She reminded him.

“I know. And I'll do everything to make it up to you.”

“I know you will. And I do not want to bother your family by moving there.”

“You won't, they won't even notice you've moved. They'd be happy to be honest. And you must see The Hawthorne Nursery.”

“I will. We'll decide where we will be after the baby when the baby is born. We have plenty of time.”

Hawthorne Gc

Jameson: Grayson is PREGNANT.

5 months later the baby bump was showing and Grayson couldn't be more content. He had his moments where he didn't feel worthy enough to be a father but after he told her why he stormed off she understood him and assured him he will be wonderful. He has brought multiple books on parenting and looked up videos. His love for his girlfriend only seemed to be growing more than it ever did. He barely let her walk, even in the house.

“This sucks.” She said after swallowing the food. He has also been patient with her mood swings.

“You used to love this, my love.” He reminded her.

“It sucks now.” But she ate anyway.

She suddenly stood up. “What is it?”

“I have to pee.” She has also grown to accept and love his pampering. She let him help her to the bathroom, sometimes he even used to carry her from room to room. He spoonfed her most of the time. He reads to her and after she falls asleep he reads a children's book to the baby bump or tells some stories about its mother and how much he loves him or her. The fear he had five months ago vanished completely, he couldn't wait to become a father, to hold his baby and raise it with her.

#the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #the hawthorne brothers

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zablife · 7 months ago

Note

Could we please please PLEASE get a part two of “Happiness is a Butterfly” ? It’s so heartbreaking!!🥺🥺🥺poor reader!!

Hi lovely, I'm pleased to hear you enjoyed the fic enough to want more! I hadn't planned on writing a second part, but as I stopped to consider it, my mind went wild with possibilities if Johnny found out the reader didn't follow his instructions. If you're curious how he reacted to the news she kept the baby, you can read it under the cut. Warnings: This is a very dark version of Johnny and it's def OOC so don't come for me!! I explored another side of him here that even scares me. Threats of violence!!

As Johnny's best friend Brucie kept watch for him those first few months, his eyes and ears trained on you to be sure you didn't do something stupid like approach Betty in the market or outside the girls' school. He soon realized it was a waste of time because you didn't have a vengeful bone in your body. You resumed a quiet, and somewhat lonely, life on the other side of town almost immediately. However, the more he followed you, noticing a routine of doctor's visits and frequent stops in the children's boutique downtown, he came to a damning conclusion. You were still pregnant.

Though Johnny seemed keen to know about this detail of your life so he could ensure you did as he asked, something always stopped Brucie from confiding it, his benevolent nature outweighing his loyalty. Who was he to say you didn't deserve to keep your child? And you'd asked nothing in return so far as he could tell, cutting ties with Johnny and the Vandals. So against his better judgement he returned home for good to keep your secret.

It was a decision he would come to regret as he sat waiting for the January meeting to begin, passing Gail a beer as she chatted idly with Johnny. The words seemed frozen on her lips even as she uttered them, Brucie's jaw going slack at the mention of your name. "Yeah, the kid's big as a house! Who woulda thought she'd be havin' a little one so soon, huh?"

Johnny's face hardened into an unreadable mask, careful not to show any outward signs of shock or surprise. However, Brucie knew his friend well enough to recognize the silent rage building behind his eyes. His pursed lips turned to an insincere smile as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So who's the lucky guy?" he prodded, looking between Brucie and Gail.

The tightness in Brucie's chest grew until he could no longer stand it, reaching for a cigarette to distract himself with some small measure of comfort. Corky and Wahoo played a game of pool in the corner, the harsh clack of breaking pool balls punctuating the silence as they began circling the table to line up the next shot.

Gail shrugged, "Some no account she was seein' over the summer. I don't remember anybody comin' around though, do you?" she asked casually before adding, "Anyway, he ain't gonna help. Sad, huh?" Swiveling in her chair, she turned to her husband. "Brucie, honey, that reminds me. I promised her you'd go over and shovel the stairs. They're covered in snow and ice."

"Sure," he replied with a slow exhale of smoke, accepting the kiss she placed on his cheek as she excused herself from the table.

Johnny took a moment to light a cigarette as he waited for Gail to walk out of earshot, eventually ducking his head in quiet conference. "You know Betty's cousin took a bad fall this time last year. It's a real shame when accidents happen, ain't it?" he mused, eyes roving over Brucie's to be sure he understood.

Brow knit with concern over the implication, Brucie shook his head against the idea, "Don't do this, you're not thinkin' straight."

Fist pounding against the table hard enough to rattle the scores of empty beer bottles, Johnny seethed, "Me? You had a chance to tell me and you didn't!" He inhaled deeply, collecting himself before adding ominously, "so now this has to happen a different way."

Brucie looked away as indignation kindled a fire inside him. He set his jaw tightly before he ground out his firm reply. "She didn't do anything wrong, Johnny. You gonna punish her for your sins?"

Johnny scoffed, "And I suppose you're Mother Theresa?" Pointing his cigarette at his friend he growled, "You forget the times I protected you, all the years we known each other." He held Brucie's gaze with a knowing look before Brucie tore his eyes away, stabbing the butt of his cigarette into the table forcefully.

Brucie bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, swallowing harshly as he realized this was an argument he wouldn't win. If it wasn't him, Johnny would send someone else.

Seeing the look of resignation wash over Brucie's face, Johnny sat back in his chair and propped his feet on the table, lacing his hands over his stomach with a satisfied nod. "That's what I thought."

#zablife ask box #the bikeriders fanfiction #Johnny Davis fanfiction #johnny davis x reader

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fizzing-imagines · 2 years ago

Text

My mom's Billy | Billy Hargrove x Single Mom! Military! Reader

Notes: This is the ending Billy DESERVED, with some good therapy, a nice home and a family that loves him

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Words: 4.1k

This was your first time in group therapy. It was highly recommend by your therapist to you, after having trouble connection to others. Her idea was that meeting people with similar experience to yours would help you. Two friendly-looking therapists happily greeted the group of eight, then introduced you. "We have a new face joining us today." Everyone looked at you, you could feel your face heating up. "Oh, uhm...Hi, I'm (Y/N). Uhm...my ex-husband abused me throughout our twelve year relationship. And uhm...I used to be a lieutenant in the navy, but I quit when my son Leo was born so I've been a housewife for five years. I work as a waitress now though." The female therapist of the two gave you an encouragement smile. "I, uhm, I left him a year ago. The divorce was actually finalised last week, so...now I'm here." You let out an awkward laugh, but the group also gave you an encouraging smile. A man with ocean blue eyes and curly, blonde hair stood out to you as he looked you up and down. His face was wrinkled, even though he didn't look too old to you yet. There was a stubbly beard on his face, a bit darker than his hair, and while his lips were full they were also chewed up. What stood out most were the hickeys on his neck.

"Thank you for sharing.", one of the participants told you. With a smile, you gave her a nod. "Have you thought about going back to the navy?", another participant asked you. Wow, these people were open. "I have, but I don't have a partner and my mother is too old to constantly take care of my son when I'm on deployment so that's off the table." It disappointed you, really. You loved your career and regretted letting your ex take that joy from you. "And daycare has gotten so expensive.", a man in the group said. "I have two young children, we have them in daycare." He continued talking about barely being able to afford having his kids looked after at a daycare, so the focus was finally off of you. But the meeting itself was nice, the participants were kind and understanding. Even though the man who checked you out in the beginner barely talked, until he was asked towards the end of the meeting. "Billy, you haven't shared today.", the male therapist said. "Anything you wanna say?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, nothing interesting happened. Had a date, but she wasn't my 'forever person'" He put the last to words into air quotes. "Nothing else interesting happened, really." For some reason, he intrigued you. "Well, besides that this is your last session today.", the male therapist added. "Oh yeah, that too. My therapist said I've gotten a well-enough social circle to not attend anymore and I could really use the hour for more shifts at my job." Everyone said goodbye to Billy.

After group, you left the centre to get to your car. As you unlocked your door, you saw Billy walking over to your car. "Hey, (Y/N), wasn't it?" You nodded your head. "Well, since I'm not in group anymore I was hoping I could give you my phone number." Your cheeks suddenly felt hot - you haven't been asked out since you met your husband. It hasn't been a concept that was a possibility for you. "Listen, I think I get that it might be hard for you, so you don't have to give me your number." He took out a piece of paper and wrote something down. "But give me a call if you feel like going out on a date. I'd be happy to hear from you, you can reach me at any time of the day." You took the piece of paper from his hand and let out a quiet "Thank you." before he left to get into his own car. You yourself sat in your car for a good five minutes to process what just happened. Someone asked you out on a date? You really couldn't believe it. Eventually, you started your engine and drove to your mothers house to pick up your son.

After you got him into bed you sat in the living room and kept starring at the tiny piece of paper with Billy's number on it. You told your mother about it, and she encountered you to call him, but your brain had a blockage. But will it ever go away if you don't break it? The clock told you that it was already midnight, you questioned how you could sit there for hours with your own thoughts discouraging you. Slowly, you took your flipphone out of your pocket and dialed the number. After a few rings, you were greeted by a sleepy "Hello?" His voice was raspy, and you immediately felt bad for disruption his sleep. "It's...it's (Y/N)." The two of you talked on the phone for a good while, talking through details of what he wants to do where with you. Billy had good ideas, but you insisted on public places only. He was very understanding and suggested a nice restaurant downtown. When you said that you couldn't afford that, he said "Don't worry about money, I'll invite you for the evening." It made you blush a bit - you can't remember the last time you've been invited to dinner.

You two had a good date. Your mother looked after your son and let him have a sleepover at her place, meanwhile Billy picked you up from your house. He brought you flowers and showered you in compliments before even letting you step into his car. It made your stomachs flip up- and down, especially because you sort of accepted the fact that you'd never find love again. While it didn't have to mean that Billy has to be the one, it was nice to be wooed again. Dinner went just as well, you had nice conversations, went on a walk afterwards and he dropped you off at your apartment afterwards. "I'd like to see you again.", he said to you with a smile while standing in front of your entrance. It made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks heat up. "I'm free next Thursday, maybe we can get breakfast together?", you said while smiling at him. He took his hand in yours, said "I'll pick you up at 8:30." and kissed the back of your hand. You said your goodbyes and went inside your apartment. Once you laid in bed and thought about the evening, you couldn't help but grin until you fell asleep.

You looked forward to breakfast with Billy for days, and it went just as well as the first date. Billy took you out at least two times a week for the next month. What you loved most about it was that he never pressured you into any physical contact - the most he ever did was give you a kiss on the cheek. Everyone around you noticed how much happier you've gotten. It also rubbed off on your son, who turned from extremely shy and introverted to an extroverted ball of energy. Right now, you were at Billy's house, having a few snacks and talking about life.

"Billy, can I ask you something?", you said as you leaned your head against the backrest of his couch. "Anything.", he said with a smile. "You really don't need to answer if you don't want to, but since you know why I was in group...why were you?" You've had your suspicions after being at his place a few times. There were no family pictures anywhere, except one of him and his stepsister, and a few childhood pictures of him and his mother. "Was about time for that question, huh?" He let out an awkward chuckle while thinking of an answer. "My dad, actually. He, uhm, he first abused my mother and eventually me. And when my mother left, I became too much like him. I was a bully, and was a dick to my step-sister. But I eventually got out, moved back here and got help. So my sister forgave me at least, but she still lives in Indiana." You knew that he lived there for a while, until he had an accidentally and came back to California. "Billy, I'm so sorry..." you said while reaching out for his hand. He took his hand in yours and squeezed it once. "I'm okay now, (Y/N)." Even though he just told you what happened to you in his past, he still smiled at you. "He's miserable now, we put him in a nursing home in some shithole town." His thumb started stroking over the back of your hand as his eyes looked into yours. "Uhm, I actually had a question...about your ex and your son.", he said while looking down. Something told you that that question was uncomfortable to him. "Sure, what's up?", you asked. "Well, I know what your ex did to you but...what did your son experience?" Knowing what Billy went through with his dad, this was probably for his own piece of mind as well. "It honestly started when he was born. He screamed at him as a baby to shut up when he cried, then he started pushing him when he was running through the house. But once he punched him, I packed our things and ran away with Leo. Pressed charges the same day and haven't looked back." Now Billy was the one to squeeze your hand. "You did the right thing (Y/N), I'm proud of you." You smiled and scooted closer to him, letting your knee touch his. Somehow, both of you knew what the other thought about - he pulled you into a hug and held you tight to his body, while you wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, take in his scent; you felt like you were home. Billy was the one for you, you knew that.

On the next date, you two kissed for the first time. The one after that, he asked to be your boyfriend. Of course you said yes, how could you not? But now there was a problem: You'd have to eventually tell Leo. While you did tell him that you've made a new friend and meet up with him a lot, you never told him that you're dating again. That was your mistake, because now you'd have to tell him. The biggest problem? Leo was afraid of men. He couldn't be near male teachers or any of his uncles, even male cashiers got a massive side eye from him. So his mom now having a new boyfriend, after his biology father abused him for his entire life? It didn't seem possible to you. But you did have to tell him eventually, so you sat him down on a Saturday after you two got ice cream.

"Leo, do you remembered my friend Billy that I have been seeing a lot lately?", you started the conversations with. Leo nodded his head, then took a lick of his ice cream. "Is he coming over?", he asked then. "Well, maybe. I actually have to tell you something else about Billy." Your heart started racing, and you honestly didn't even know where you were going with this. "You know when we talked about how daddies and mommies love each other?" He nodded his head once more. "Well, when daddies and mommies separate, it can happen that they meet someone else who made them as happy as the other mommy or daddy made them. But when the other mommy or daddy wasn't a good person-" You were interrupted by your own son. "Like Dean?" Leo never called your ex dad, he always called him Dean. "Yes, like Dean. Well, then the mommy or daddy might meet someone who makes them even happier." Your son continued eating his ice cream quietly. "And Billy is that other person who makes me even happier, and that's what I wanted to tell you, Leo." He remained quiet for a bit, trapped in his own thoughts, before he talked again. "So is Billy your boyfriend now?" He didn't scrunch his face in disgust or anger, which was a good sign. "Yes, sweetheart, Billy is my boyfriend now and I wanted to tell you so you could get ready to meet him someday." Once again, he thought about your words for a while. "Does Billy hit you like Dean did?" Unfortunately, Leo knew too much about abuse too soon. "No, Leo, Billy has never hit me or insult me. Do you remembered when we talked about how Mommies and Daddies should treat each other?" He took a big lick of his ice cream before answering. "That they always cuddle and kiss and hug each other, and that they never hit or scream at each other." You nodded in agreement. "That's right. And that is how Billy treats me." For the third time, he was inside his head and thinking something over. "My friend Lee, his dad has a new girlfriend and he says that she's his step-mother now. Is Billy my step-dad?" Oh, you were not prepared for that question at all. You actually expected a tantrum. "You can call him that if you want to. But you can also just call him Billy." Leo went on to ask when he was going to meet Billy, if he could cook for him with you, if Billy liked basketball as much as he does.

So the day came. On the following Thursday, you and Leo were making two different pizzas for the three of you. He insisted on making a funny face out of salamies on one pizza while you added mushrooms, olives and spinach to the other one. Once you put the food in the oven, your doorbell rang. "He's here!", Leo said while running up to the front door. "Mama, can I open it?", he asked you. As you were washing your hands it wasn't such a bad idea. "Sure sweetheart, be nice!", you said over to him. Your son opened the door and greeted your boyfriend with a wide grin. "Hello, are you my mom's Billy?", he asked. His question made you chuckle. "I am your mom's Billy. Are you your mom's Leo?" He loudly said yes before leading him inside and telling Billy to take his shoes and jacket off. "Mom's in the kitchen.", he said to Billy. "Leo, go wash your hands and change your shirt. Dinner is done soon." You could hear your sons footsteps running off while Billy came through the kitchen door. "That was quite the greeting.", he said with a chuckle in his voice. "He's uncharacteristically excited to meet you.", you replied while drying your hands. The two of you shared a quick kiss before the timer for the pizza went off. "He even made you smiling pizza."

Leo's and Billy's first meeting went extraordinarily well. In the evening, after your boyfriend left, he asked you when he would come over again. And it didn't take long until he asked when Billy would move in with the two of you. Six months deep into the relationship, Leo and you moved in with Billy. He had two extra rooms and a big backyard that he couldn't use all by himself. Your son loved it, and he loved Billy. At some point, he started calling the two of you "My mama and my Billy", which made your boyfriends heart melt. Billy and you got married two years later, you took Billy's last name and tried looking into how Leo could get it too. Eventually, it all resolved itself.

Billy was looking after Leo while you were at work. He picked him up from school and was making him dinner while Leo was doing his homework. However, math wasn't his strongsuit so he walked to Billy with his textbook. "Dad, can you help me with this?" Billy stopped in his tracks as he heard Leo call him dad for the first time but swallowed it down to not make him feel uncomfortable. He helped him with his homework and didn't let anything show until he was alone in the kitchen and cried some tears; happy tears. He continued lunch with your, and now his, son like he always does. Once you came home, he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. "What's gotten into you?", you said with a giggle. "Leo called me dad today.", he mumbled into the crook of your neck. Your eyes went wide in suprise and happiness, then you laughed. "Seriously? Billy, that's amazing!" You passionately kissed him on the lips as he was still squeezing you against his body.

Later that night, you checked in on your son after he went to bed, just to see that he was still awake and seemed upset. "Leo? What's wrong sweetheart?" You walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. "I called Billy dad today and he didn't react...", he mumbled into his blanket. Oh. "Why does that upset you?", you asked him while petting his head. "Because I thought it would make him happy. And I never had a dad..." You opened your arms as an invitation for a hug, which he gladly took as he scooted closer. "Billy was very happy, but he didn't want you to feel weird about it.", you said to your as you hugged him. "He thought that you wouldn't want to do it anymore if he was too emotional." Leo hummed, a sound he started making when he thought about something, before asking "Can dad come in?" You smiled and told him that that was possible, then gave him a kiss goodnight and left the room. "Billy, your son wants to talk to you.", you said to your husband as you stepped into your shared bedroom. "Alright.", he said while getting up and leaving the room. You went into bed and waited for him to return, which was a good 20 minute wait. When Billy came back, he was quiet and quickly got under the blanket next to you with no words. "Sweetheart, you're awfully quiet.", you said to him while taking one of his hands in yours. "It's okay.", he mumbled while getting closer to you. "Our son just had some questions. But it's all good now." The way he said 'Our son' made your heart melt. "Father-son secret?" You smirked at your own words, Billy let out a small chuckle. "Definetly.", he replied before placing a kiss on your cheek.

Life went on for months. Billy was the father Leo never had, he was happier than ever. Billy finally had the family he always wanted. And you were planning on going back to the navy - that was until a tiny plastic stick with two blue lines came in the way. You've had your suspicions before, considering that this would be your second pregnancy. But how? Leo was nine already and so used to being an only child. Billy and you weren't going to get any younger either - at age 37 now, you'd almost be a senior citizen by the time your child graduates high school. So you did what you always do: Go to Billy.

"Bil.", you mumbled as you stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, test in your shaky hands. It was only natural to him to see how terrified you were, so close to crying but swallowing it down for the sake of your son in the next room. "Come here.", he said while walking up to you. It was only then that he noticed the positive pregnancy test in your hands. "You know, I always wanted two kids." was all he said before wrapping his arms around you. "We'll manage."

He stayed true to his words. You gave birth to baby Leia and went back to the navy months after. Leo was ecstatic to be a big brother, not wanting to ever leave Leias side at any time of the day since the moment he first saw her. He went so far that he volunteers to bring her to bed on some days, and for whatever reason she'd always fall asleep when he did without fuzzing. And Billy, oh god, Billy was so happy to watch his daughter grow up. Of course he saw Leo as his own son, but he couldn't watch him grow up from the day he was born. Knowing your and Leo's past, Billy made sure that he won't be anything like your ex or his dad. During your second trimester, he went back to his old therapist to see if he truly was ready to be a father. When Leia was a year old, you and your family were send to Finland for deployment. Once again, your husband stayed true to his words: "We'll manage.". Leo was send to an english-speaking school while Leia went to a regular, finnish daycare. If you were going to live here, you want her to learn a second language while doing so. Billy, somehow, got to continue working as a mechanic while you were obvious caught up with the finnish navy. Everything was beyond perfect and felt like a fairytale. The four of you were send back to America after six years in Finland, but to Florida this time. Leia cried a lot when she had to leave, including the entire flight back and the first night in America. You couldn't blame her - she's leaving the place she grew up in. You promised her to go back to Finland during summer break, and while that cheered her up it didn't help a lot. Once again, Billy stuck to his words. "We'll manage.". He did everything he could to get Leia out of her head, helped her with schoolwork, went surfing with her, took her on daddy-daughter dates. She got better eventually and found many friends. You, on the other hand, felt bad that this would eventually be ripped from her again.

Four years later, you decided on a desk job at the navy in California. It took a lot from you to make this decision, but it was the best one for your family. You couldn't watch your daughter sit and cry for her entire childhood. California was the best decision for everyone, including your husband. He was happier, Leo was happier, Leia adapted after a few months. She loved California eventually, especially because her Dad could show her around so much more now.

"Dad, I have a confession to make." Leo made sure you weren't home. He was two weeks away from graduating high school, and already signed up for his future profession. But he told neither you nor Billy. "What's going on kid?", he asked while looking up from the newspaper he was reading. At this point, he needed glasses to even make out a single letter. "Mom didn't want me to, but I signed up for the marines and got in." Billy knew about your opinion in this. You didn't want your children to get into the military at all. It wasn't a taboo theme at home, but it was barely on the table. After what your ex-husband did to you, you couldn't bear to possibly have them go down the same road as you. "Why did you want to join?", Billy asked. He'd form his opinion based on his reply, he decided. "Mom saves so many people. I've always looked up to her, and I wanna be like her." Billy smiled at his sons words. "You know, I'm convinced that she'll be okay with it if you tell her like that."

You were. Leo went to bootcamp, your old bootcamp, where you dropped him off with a heavy heart. Billy and Leia came with you as well to send him off. "Stay safe, son.", Billy told him before giving him a tight hug. Leo promised to not die, and that was enough for him. Leia cried a bit while saying her goodbyes, and had to hold onto her father after hugging her brother. You were last, it was only logical to him. "I'll make you proud.", he promised you. "Leo, I' already so proud of you.", you said to him with a smile. "You'll do just as well. Bootcamp will be the best months of your life, promise." In motherly fashion, you gave him a kiss on his cheek before letting him walk inside.

Back in the car, Billy tried changing the topic as the mood was low. "Well, if my son comes after his mother job-wise, I hope my daughter comes after me.", he said to you and Leia.

"I was actually thinking about Infantry.", she replied.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff

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tams-writeblr · 4 days ago

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Love in a hopeless Place 14

Synopsis: She was barely grown up, when she stepped into the bar that was the center of Zaun's resistance. The people she met there would forever change her life, and one of them especially. Silco x reader/OC; first-person POV; overall rating: E for Explicit; canon-compliant (though I might make a stretch on the timeline here and there to make things fit my symbolism); age gap! (younger female, older male); 9 chapters; 45k; cis female reader/POV; no beta-reader; completed Chapter ratings/warnings: G for General, no warnings, just mentions of death and violence? Wordcount: 1.1k Author's note: Okay, this chapter is insanely long, actually all the upcoming chapters are super long. I probably have a pacing problem, thank you very much. But now shit's about to do down for real, and we reach the first scene of the show. And it's only getting worse from there, we all know that, right? Btw, Powder is three and Vi is eight. I know, the might have been older in the series, but that's just my interpretation. Kid's brothers are eight, six, five and three. Comments would be appreciated!

Today's music recommendation: Welshly Arms - Legendary

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Act II

Chapter III

Part 1/9

The skirmishes around the bridge got worse and worse from this day on. Our streets were flooded with enforcers, and they showed little to no mercy. They knew who was behind the attack that had cost three officials their lives. The lanes were in massive uproar. Behind the backs of the enforcers, people were calling for revolution; some of them were even calling for war.

Silco had hid from the enforcers, so he never spent much time at the same place, let alone his apartment or the bar.

I sometimes sneaked him into my parents' house, much to my stepmother's dismay.

"Claus, this man is bringing danger to our house! Our family!"

"He is family," my father just retorted. "And he's in the right. This shit has to end. I want a better future for my children and grandchildren, too!"

Sad news brought us a momentary calm before the storm.

Janke had died.

But as the news wandered the lanes and the enforcers heard that "the assassin from last month" had died, they didn't keep roaming our territory as throughout as before.

Silco still better kept a low profile for the upcoming time. Only that he didn't. After spending the first afternoon after four weeks at his place, he suddenly got up from the dining table (yes, we now had a dining table with three chairs and even a rug underneath it), grabbed the two black jackets by the door, and threw one over my shoulders. "Come on, we're going to "The Last Drop". Vander has called in a meeting."

I looked up from my notes and raised an eyebrow at him. "And you want me with you?"

"Get moving before I change my mind. But Claus will be there too!"

I instantly raised.

My father might sell weapons from his back room, but he had always been neutral and had kept a low profile. So the situation must have been desperate.

We hurried through the lanes, his hand holding mine firmly.

The streets were emptied, only strays and dirt crossed our way.

As we entered "The Last Drop", the bar was already bursting.

But this clearly wasn't a night for drinking and celebrations. People were in uproar. A picture of Janke was plastered on the wall over the jukebox that didn't boom tunes that night. The discussion was already going, as Silco told me to sit down in a booth.

Then he vanished in the crowd.

People were calling for revolution, for war, for justice, for a free Zaun.

I felt a little out of place, as I had never before attended such a meeting, but I soon grasped, that the people around me were planning a coup d'état.

I could hear Vander's mighty voice over the crowd calling them to the weapons.

I even heard my father speak to the crowd as he spoke about the situation of the armory.

Silco's voice cut through the bar, and I felt my body start shaking violently. "For the longest time, those uppish bastards have kept us down here as their personal dump. It's time we take our destiny into our own hands. I say we take everything we can get and attack right away. We've got grenades and dynamite. And then we'll blow this damned bridge in the air. Once they're cut off from us, we'll show them that everything they can, we can do twice as well. Do you really think their enforcers can go after all of us? As long as we stick together, we can show them which wood we're made from. Piltover has their enforcers with combat experience. We've got every single soul in our city. Every Zaunite has seen more shit than all of them together. So who's in this with me?"

The crowd cheered and started chanting "Zaun, Zaun, Zaun".

"He really brought you," a familiar voice addressed me.

I flinched and looked at Felicia, who was standing beside my booth.

She had two girls at her hands, they were about the age of my youngest and my second brother, maybe younger. "Violet, Powder," she told them my name. "She's Silco's good friend. Say "hi" to her."

Powder, the younger one, waved at me shyly, but the older one just snorted. "Can't I come with you tomorrow, Mom? I'm also already a good fighter."

Felicia kneeled down to the pink-haired kid. "I don't doubt that, but it's still way too dangerous. Besides, someone has to look after your sister."

"I thought she's looking for her."

I was puzzled at the girl's statement.

Felicia noticed and gave me a quick smile. "Take Powder to your dad, Vi. I have to have a quick conversation here."

Vi snorted again. But then she took her sister's hand out of her mother's.

"Bye, pretty Lady," the smaller one chirped and followed her sister.

Felicia slid into the booth with me. She folded her hands on the table. "So Silco hasn't talked to you yet?"

I slowly shook my head. "He's been very quiet the past few days."

"Connol and I decided to join the riot. But of course we can't take the girls with us." She looked up and over the humming crowd. "A lot of us can't. We need people that take care of them. So we wanted to ask you - no." She looked me straight in the eye and reached for my hands. Hers were ice-cold. "Connol and I are begging you to watch after Violet and Powder while we're out there."

My first reaction was to pull my hands away from her and refuse, saying I would of course join the fight too. If everything was about to go down, I wanted to be at Silco's side. But feeling her shaking just as much as I did, seeing the desperation in her eyes, I just couldn't.

"Silco told us, you're good with children."

I looked at where our hands were intertwined. And I exhaled deeply. "Fine, of course. I'll watch them." I gave Felicia a crooked smile. "Just come back in one piece, will you?" I wasn't prepared for Felicia's reaction as she unpredictably hugged me.

"I'm so afraid," she confessed. Both our shaking bodies tried to keep each other still but failed miserably.

"Good, you two already found each other."

I looked up to Silco, who had placed a hand on Felicia's shoulder. "It's gonna be alright, sister. We've got it all planned out. Our victory will be great."

I found his eyes, and they were filled with determination. They didn't seem warm and green anymore, more of an icy turquoise. I shivered.

#arcane fanfic #arcane #x reader fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #x f!reader #silco x reader #silco x oc #silco fanfic #silco arcane #felicia arcane #violet arcane #powder arcane #arcane ocs

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dearfuturehusbandblog · 27 days ago

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I'm A Bad Jew

Dear Future Husband,

"Of all the 613 Mitzvos in the Torah, which one is your favorite and why?"

That's the question that led to my mother crying on Shabbos.

Or maybe not so much the question as the conversation that came after it...

Did she have the right to be the one crying?

I feel like I should have when she took the opportunity to get in my way erev Shabbos and tell me to my face that my "inability to tell time" is a trait I get "from your father."

On the rare occasions she mentions him, she doesn't use his name. She uses vague terms like "him," calls him Mr. LastName or she refers to him as "your father."

She knows I don't speak to this man.

She knows some of the major issues that I have with this man.

And yet, anytime she has a problem with something I do, she's the first to loudly point out that it's a trait I get from my father.

Like, ok...? I'm so sorry I share genetics with him when I totally wouldn't if you hadn't married him and had children with him in the first place???

Like, I'm so sorry I lived in the same house with him and was basically trained from birth in the dysfunctional mess you two created for all of us?

Like, I'm so sorry my patterning is half HIS but also, WTF because you don't always have the best time-telling skills either, which you ADMIT to us several times a year....

Honestly.

She looked at me after she said this, like she wanted me to respond. But respond HOW? How on earth do you respond to a condemnation like that? It's borderline harassment, if you think about it.

Then she added that MyBro "had the same time-telling problem when he was younger. Somehow he's been able to grow out of it. I'm not sure how he did it, but he's doing great."

MyBro, who I speak to almost as much as myfather, because he's separated himself from this asinine dysfunction and somehow rebuilt a relationship with MotherLivelyHeart but couldn't really care less about the rest of us (yet somehow it's my responsibility to reach out to him and connect? "just don't close that door on him." HONEY, HE'S THE ONE WHO SLAMMED IT SHUT BEHIND HIM. He's literally said to us that family is meaningless and only reaches out when he needs something we can provide for cheap or free)

But I didn't cry. When she left the room, I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath and then I moved on. It was erev Shabbos, after all, and there was too much to do...

So how exactly did that question lead to her crying on Shabbos?

Well, let's backtrack a smidge:

Despite my complicated relationship with Hashem, there are certain times of the year that I feel like indulging in secular content is not exactly ideal and I try to avoid it, Chanukah being one of them.

To fill my time I usually watch stuff like Aleph Beta, various shiurim on TorahAnytime or youtube, and listen to Jewish music.

This year, I started listening to the Living L'Chaim podcast on youtube. Yaakov Langer has some really fascinating interviews, and that was most of what I listened to and watched during the week of Chanukah.

At the end of each of his interviews, YL has a few questions he usually asks everyone, one of which is some variation on "of all the 613, which is your favorite mitzvah?"

And, as us delusional people often do, every time he presented that question, I would ponder it as though I were the one being interviewed and asked (despite having nothing of note to be interviewed about and being mortified of having my face and name out in the real world doing something like that...).

But I digress.... I didn't really have an answer for myself.

Which one of the 613 is my favorite?

How do I choose one I like the most when for the most part I wish I wasn't even alive on this planet or in this world at all? I have so few interests in life in general, so few things I feel remotely connected with, and now you're asking me which of my religious parameters I like the most?

But that's just me, obviously. Sad little me.

One of the answers I did hear quite a few times for that question from these interviews, though, was "Shabbos!" or "Of course, Shabbos!"

And every time I heard that answer, my face would automatically jump from its natural resting state into what I'm sure is a look of disdain, before morphing into a more dubious frown.

And I would wonder "do these people truly feel this way or is it just the first thing that comes to mind?" Or maybe even "there's no way that's true... maybe they're saying that because they think that's the expected answer..." Or even "that response just makes them sound holier than they truly are/feel."

Now, obviously, all of these thoughts and reactions are quite negative and most likely untrue. But I can't help it; I'm a skeptic.

So fast forward to this past Shabbos....

On Friday night, we ended up with a dilemma. You see, the food I made for Shabbos lunch was meat with what ended up being a very loose sauce (unintentionally). And that's all I made for Shabbos lunch. A one-dish meal with quite a lot of (basically) liquid.

So the dilemma was whether or not we were allowed to warm this dish up for Shabbos lunch, because we use an electric warmer as a blech, which apparently has the same status as a flame with a metal plate over it.

Of course this question came up after we finished Shabbos dinner, when we realized that the liquid hadn't solidified at all when we went to put it in the fridge (it baked until after candle lighting and had to cool). Also I have no idea where the rav we'd ask even lives, not that I could really get to him because I don't trust the "shabbos door" our building has (long story). And I don't know anyone healthy in our building we could even ask a shaila like that to. So... it was a real-life on-Shabbos dilemma.

After MLH and BS went to bed, I found a Shabbos melacha book on our shelf that had an answer - don't warm it up. And unfortunately, this was not a nuanced answer with all possibilities, so it didn't say anything like "the sauce can't be heated but the meatballs can" or "removing the meatballs from the sauce is separating, so you can't warm up any part of it at all." So even after learning that the sauce was most likely too liquidy to be warmed up, there was still no clear directive on what exactly we could do. Because YayTorah. Also, it was like 28 degrees outside on Shabbos day. But based on my understanding of what I read, one of the biggest issues with warming foods up on Shabbos is really just maris ayin (giving the impression of wrongdoing that would influence others to sin) - and in this case the maris ayin would be someone glancing over and thinking that we're cooking and then thinking it's ok for them to cook on Shabbos. But here's the thing - NOBODY COOKS ON A FRICKIN WARMING TRAY. Also we didn't have anyone over or come by on Shabbos, but regardless, IT'S A FRICKIN WARMING TRAY, NOT A STOVE TOP OR OVEN. Ok, granted there may be a minority of people who do actually cook directly on a warming tray, but the grand majority of people who use a warming tray do not cook with it! It's literally in the name - warming tray! Then you get into the whole complication of "how liquid is the liquid" because you can't warm up soup, but technically a gravy is fine, despite the fact that gravy changes its state when heated while soup does not. But it has to do more with the preferred way to eat the liquid, which, OF COURSE PEOPLE WANT HOT FOOD. THAT APPLIES TO MOST FOODS.

Adding to that, I forgot to cut an avocado before Shabbos started and wanted to make guacamole because I'm on a weird diet again and avocado is one of the things that's supposed to be fine. But apparently you can't remove the pit from the avocado (and some even say you can't separate the skin from the fruit) without it being considered the prohibition of separating, so I had to attempt to "oops" the pit out of the avocado, which really just resulted in me nudging it harder than I should have, which means I probably just violated the separation rule. So FML.

And, honestly, in case you can't tell, I was super frustrated.

So there we were, sitting at the Shabbos table on Friday night, dinner basically over, and somehow we ended up on the topic of some of the interviews I've been listening to, and I asked MotherLivelyHeart the question, curious to hear her answer.

"Of all the 613 mitzvos, which is your favorite?"

And before giving her answer, she wanted to know what a lot of these people tend to answer, so I told her that a lot of them say "Shabbos."

And I said that weird because it prompted her to ask "and is that your answer?"

To which I basically grimaced and said, probably stronger than I intended, "NO."

And she was shocked by this information. So instead of giving me her answer, she wanted to know why it wasn't my favorite mitzvah (As though it was supposed to be, cuz I guess it's everyone's?)

So I told her straight up that it's stupid things like the dilemma about being able to warm up the only food I made for Shabbos lunch because of the liquid situation, and literally just cutting an avocado (not to mention it can't be mashed on Shabbos...), that drive me crazy.

I understand not making fires. I understand not building things or making art.

I do not understand things like "hey, the only food you made for a freezing cold day can't be heated up even though it's fully cooked" or "you should look your best today because you're in front of the Shabbos queen but also no, you can not brush your hair or brush your teeth normally, and no, you can not clean that stain that you just got on your pretty dress."

I follow the rules anyway, sure, but I do not understand them.

And they frustrate me beyoooond and I just feel no connection to any of it. Which I told her honestly.

And she wanted to know why.

Dear Lord in Heaven, she wanted to know why.

So I told her what she already knew, that we grew up in dysfunction where the weekdays were already stressful, which just made the time crunch and getting everything cooked and cleaned and ready and sorted and organized and set before the buzzer went off that much most stressful.

And I added how hard it was to live so far away from any of our friends (if we even had any, but I didn't mention that uncomfortable tidbit...) which meant that Shabbos always meant forced time spent at home with the same people who caused me stress during the week, except with very few distractions because meals together were mandatory and we couldn't watch/read anything*.

There were so many other things I could have mentioned about what made that day so stressful and unenjoyable, but I refrained. I actually tried to limit my response to things that were common knowledge so that she wouldn't feel extra bad.

But regardless, MotherLivelyHeart went right into her whole "I'm sorry I couldn't impress on you how beautiful Shabbos truly is.... I'm a terrible mother...." shtick. Because I guess it was the beauty of Shabbos that drew her to yiddishkeit in the first place?

She said, "well, it must have been better in seminary, right?"

To which I again made a face and responded, "no! If anything, it was worse!"

Of course, she wanted to know why, which I again explained to her as something she already knew about because I'd talked about this before - in seminary we were not allowed to stay in our apartments for Shabbos.

The school wanted us to go out, meet people, and see how other people live and make Shabbos meaningful.

At least, that's what I assume because it was never actually explained to us...

But it was the same for pretty much every other seminary I've ever heard of - girls are required to make Shabbos plans.

And yet... welcome to the frum double standards - the boys yeshivas (at least all that I've heard of) have never required the boys to make Shabbos plans outside of their schools.

But of course, the rabbeim at the yeshivas try to encourage the boys to go out for Shabbos and see the world and meet people, so when the girls need places for Shabbos but aren't allowed to be at the same Shabbos table as the boys, and the families are already having boys (who are not mandated to go anywhere for Shabbos), the girls have a super hard time finding places to go.

"Well, if you can't find a place, just use the sign up and the school will assign you to a family."

I did that twice. And Lordy, Lord, Lord, Lord, if those Shabboses weren't the most awkward, disjointed, dysfunctional, unhealthy, weird Shabboses of my entire life, outside of my own family. I don't know who vetted those people but they shouldn't be having anyone over ever. (Maybe I'll share stories another time.)

Either way, every single week for 10 months (not including the chagim, which was an additional challenge!), we had to find places to go for Shabbos.

EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK.

Regardless of the stress of school work and projects and trips, etc, we had to then make dozens of phone calls and hope to God that after finally getting a yes for meals that included sleeping accommodations, that we wouldn't get a call on Wednsday or Thursday telling us someone had gotten sick or something and we would have to find a new place.

Then we had to make sure we had the funds for gifts, buses or taxis, and after fighting with dozens of girls over just a few available showers, make sure our clothes were clean after fighting with dozens of girls over just a few available washing machines, that we had enough time to get to where we needed to be (early enough to help, but not too early to be a hindrance, and definitely not late enough that we'd miss the proper transportation to get there), that we didn't forget anything, etc.

EVERYYYYYY WEEEEEEEEEEEK**

NEWS FLASH TO ALL THE SEMINARIES: THIS IS NOT A WAY TO FOSTER LOVE OF SHABBOS

So, no, MotherLivelyHeart. No, seminary did not make Shabbos more special and meaningful for me.

And she told me she was really disappointed and frustrated to hear that, because some of the things I was saying sounded a lot like reasons that MyBro gave for why he went off the derech. And she was basically immediately alarmed that's the direction I'm going in.

So I joked/not-joked that I have too much Jewish guilt to go off the derech and that upset her. FML.

I reminded her that MyBro and I are two different people and while it's unfortunate he found nothing to connect with and just walked away from it all, despite my frustrations, I've found my own things that I connect with that are meaningful.

I don't remember how we kind of segued that conversation to a close, but she said something about me joining her for one of her therapy sessions so that I could "unload" on her. And I was like, "uh, that wasn't unloading" and she went, "that WASN'T!?" And I told her, "honestly, if you think that was unloading, you don't want me to unload."

And she didn't know how to take that.

She was heading to bed anyway, so she closed her door, and less than 10 minutes later, BigSis and I heard her talking to herself (like normal), and sniffling and blowing her nose (not like normal).

So, great, I'm responsible for that now too.

But seriously. She knows about the dysfunction because she lived it! She knows about the stress because she lived it! She knows we didn't have friends in the neighborhood!

If she can't even hear the things she already basically knows without bursting into tears, how would I EVER tell her anything else!? There is no growth, no development, no healing, no conversation to be had, if everything causes her pain and mental spirals.

It's been a few days since that discussion and she hasn't brought it up, but I keep trying to figure out if there is anything I actually enjoy about being Jewish or Torah observant. And I'm not sure there is.

Most of that comes down to not wanting to be alive at all, but in the mental state of "as long as I'm here, I may as well make the best of it," most of the things I like doing aren't even specifically Torah mitzvos.

For example, I enjoy cooking for people. But I wouldn't categorize that as v'ahavta l'reiacha kamocha, which is one of the 613, because if I loved others the way I love myself, I would do way less for them than going out of my way to cook for them. Because I don't love myself and there are days I fast just because I'm not in the mood or mindset to get up and do anything, let alone food prep. So cooking for others would probably just fall into some vague "bein adam l'chavero" or gemilus chassadim thing, neither of which is, strictly speaking, a Torah mitzvah.

Which brings us to - what exactly are the 613 mitzvos?

We talk about that like it's a thing we should all know, but if someone put a gun to my head and said "write all 613 mitzvos or die," I'd be dead in a second.

I literally had to google "what are all the 613 mitzvos." And I thought that maybe if I could read the full list, I'd be able to better understand what I connect to and maybe find what mitzvah is truly my "favorite."

I tried reading the Rambam's Sefer Hamitzvos on Sefaria but even the intro was too wordy, so I pulled up chabad.org and started reading through just a straight up list of the 613 mitzvos. (Which, side note, did you know they had a daily "mitzvah a day" study of the Rambam's sefer, because I didn't until now. I'm not chabad and have some issues with the hashkafos of chabad, but, credit where credit is due, they truly are a fantastic resource.)

I didn't even get to 200 before I was overwhelmed with what I was reading, which sounds pathetic if you actually read them. But, out of context, some of them don't really make sense, so I was following the links over to read what the context of the mitzvah is and then going back to the list, and.... "that was a lot, Robin."

Also, I realized I was doing this without having said birkas hatorah for the day, and I don't even know if I was technically allowed to be reading them without having said the bracha, so that was fun.

Now, I know that some of the mitzvos apply specifically to the Bais Hamikdash or to men or to Kohanim or to Eretz Yisrael or to specific zmanim we don't currently live in (like ones relating to idolatry or prophets, etc), so not all 613 mitzvos will apply to me as a woman in today's world, but I literally only looked on two websites so I don't know if anyone has a filterable list of the mitzvos to figure out which ones apply to me that I could even choose a "favorite" from.

In my head I was joking around that if I was ever asked what my favorite mitzvah was I could sarcastically say something like "oh yeah, my favorite mitzvah is definitely 'Do not pass your children through the fire to Molech'" or something like that. Because while I get what YL is trying to ask his interviewees, most of these mitzvos are so weird or not applicable, so I don't know how anyone being interviewed even really has that many options to pick from.

We look at "mitzvos" as "good deeds" but that's not what they are. They're commandments. They're literally things we're commanded to do and not to do, which include a whole bunch of weird things that are just strict rules, even if they're not technically applicable today.

Gemilus Chassadim are good deeds. I think what YL is really asking is what good deed or positive Torah commandment the interviewees connect with the most, though that's not how it's phrased.

The crazy thing is that you can hear people like Frank Meeink, the neo-Nazi turned Orthodox Jew, talk about how he loves the mitzvos like Kosher, which seem restrictive, because it's a reminder of how Hashem cares about every little part of his life, even what seems inconsequential.

And I'm just here like "does He tho?"

These people who grew up devoid of all of these rules and restrictions and who discovered them later in life and found meaning in them have such a profound connection and I'm just here like "UGH" to most of it.

Maybe that's my gilgul's battle in this life. Maybe I was given a life where everything is frustrating and difficult because I'm supposed to slog through it all and find the meaning in it, to connect with it.

But if that's true, then my neshama has just kinda' noped out of life, because I don't feel the holy spirit inside of me ever. I didn't even feel it as a kid, which is the purest time in a person's life; as a pure little baby neshama, devoid of all sin, I felt stress and anxiety and depression. Where was the holiness then? Where was the love then?

Even at the times I'm most optimistic and feel the desire to do more and learn more, it's always with the caveat that I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It's like feeling full after a good meal but still being worried you don't know where your next meal will come from. Like, yeah, I feel good in this minute, but I'm pretty sure I'll feel like crap later.

Unfortunately, my dear Future Husband, I don't really have a concise conclusion to all of this.

On Shabbos I left the sefer with the "psak" open on the table and someone still warmed up the food on the blech (albeit on top of another pan so it wasn't touching the surface of the warming tray), and despite knowing that I probably shouldn't, I ate it anyway because it was 30 frickin degrees outside and the food was hot.

And I made the guacamole.

And I ran the tap on warm because it was physically painful to use the cold water and I live in a building with non-Jews, so I rationalize myself into a corner of "it's prooooobably fine...."

Which means I was probably oiver on the whole don't do melachos on Shabbos thing.

FML.

They say 30 days before a baby is born a Bas Kol calls out who that neshama is destined to marry. Sometimes I hope you screwed up and married someone else and are happy in your blissful ignorance of my existence.

Cuz at the end of the day, I might be a decent person, but I'm really a bad Jew.

-LivelyHeart

-----

*To be fair, when I was younger we would get library books to read on Shabbos and I think it wasn't until high school or post-HS that I stopped reading secular material on Shabbos, even though my mother decided to try influencing us to stop reading "non-kosher" material on Shabbos when I was probably in middle school... but even if I was still reading secular books on Shabbos and feeling like an apikores, if we didn't have a chance to get to the library, we didn't have many options at home for Shabbos reading. Also, this would lead to "I'll only read these books in the bathroom" which inevitably would lead to being in the bathroom for too long just so I could read, which is obviously unhealthy for so many reasons

**Ok, this one is a slight exaggeration because we did have several shabbatonim with the whole school, specific ones with our mechanchot, and there were the occasional Shabboses we were allowed to stay in our apartments but had to go to our Eim Bayit for meals so they could keep tabs on us or whatever. There was one Shabbos that a few of us had plans cancelled last minute and we couldn't go to our Eim Bayit because they were having boys for both meals, so we made our own little Shabbos in our apartment and it was the most relaxing, lovely Shabbos of the entire year. Literally no stress, we got to hang out with people we liked, didn't have to buy host gifts or stress about travel... We literally lamented we couldn't do that every week.

I asked ChatGPT to put together a list of all the mitzvos that would apply to me as an unmarried woman in today's world (ie, none of the taharas hamishpacha stuff or the kohein, Israel, prophecy, etc stuff) and this is what it came up with:

If I use it as a checklist for my life, I do most of these things, but I don't do them well. And sometimes I just don't care enough to try harder.

I am forever jealous of the people who found this life and find meaning in it, because I was born into it and practically couldn't care less.

If I woke up tomorrow and found out a huge mistake had been made and I'm not actually Jewish, I would not convert. Despite this being my whole frame of reference for life, I would probably just keep the Noahide laws, but up and move to a whole new city where nobody knows me and start fresh.

Because I am just a really bad Jew.

#jumblr #frumblr #orthodox #jewish #frum #dating #jewish dating #shidduch dating #shidduch #shadchan #shadchanim #shidduchim #i am the shidduch crisis

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fl3shm4id3n · 2 years ago

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I don’t know if you’ve watched modern family but there’s this scene where one of the characters and her parents get locked out of there house and her babies start crying and she freaks out and jumps on top on a van to reach the roof and starts crawling to get to the window, do you think you can do a reader x Neteyam based on this?

ₚₐᵣₑₙₜₛ ᵢₙₛₜᵢₙcₜ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ x ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: locked out of the house, reader is feaking out, climbing on the roof, babies crying, modern time. You and Neteyam are a married adult couple, reader has twins (based on the old hc of you and Neteyam having children.

A/N: I have seen modern family, but mainly videos about Gloria because she's my favorite. I also tried looking for the vid to get an idea on how to write this fic, but I couldn't find it, so I came up with something.

Masterlist

That morning you were in a rush, you and Neteyam had planned on going to his parents house. Neteyam had got up early, fed the twins and got them ready to leave. You didn't want to be late like the last time. You had slept more since Neteyam didn't want to wake you up from your sleep, but you woke up at a reasonable time. While you got ready, Neteyam watched over Loreyu and Txampay. When you were done getting ready, you made sure you had everything in the dipper bag, you didn't want to leave anything important behind.

"Y/n calm down, we're only going to my parents house" Neteyam commented, while having Xam on his lap, he had been doing her hair into small braids. "I know, but I don't want to be late like the last time Net. Is Loreyu ready?" you asked, looking over at the baby boy who had been laying on the baby mat that was set in your room. "Yeah" Neteyam said, and sat Xam on the mat next to her brother.

"Okay, everything is the bag, I'm going to put it in the van" you got the bag and placed it on your shoulder. "Also, don't forget to lock the door, the last time you didn't" you mentioned, leaving your room. "I'll be right back okay?" Neteyam said towards the kids who were busy playing with the toys that were on the mat. Neteyam walked out of the room and went to the front door, locking it.

He looked over and saw you struggling to put the car seat in the back of the van. He placed the keys on the small table that was next to the front door and he closed the door. He walked over to where you were. "Need help?" he asked, and you nodded. Allowing him put in the car seat properly. "Okay, let me just go get the twins and we'll leave." You commented and Neteyam just nodded. You walked over to front door and attempted to open the door, it was locked.

"Net, can you give me the keys?" you asked, walking over to your husband. "Yea, hold on" he reached into his pocket from his pants to get the keys, if they weren't in that pocket, they must be in the other one. He reached in the other pocket. Nothing. "Damn" he said, making you look at him. "What?" you asked, now a bit more concern. "I don't have the keys" he said, this made you kind of panic. "Where did you leave them?" you asked again.

Neteyam stopped to think, he remembered locking the door, but then he released where he left them. "Shit" he said, "what?" you asked nervously. "They're inside." He said, now it was time to panic. "You left the keys inside!?" you freaked out. "Do we have a spear key?!" you asked, panicking. "No?" he said now nervous, making you freak out even more. "Net! We need a spear key!" you cried out, panicing. "Oh Eywa the children are inside! Is the back door unlocked?" You asked, but Neteyam shook his head "no, I always have that door locked" then you heard the twins beginning to cry from your upstairs room window.

"My babies!" you screamed like a mad woman. With out thinking twice, you climbed onto the van, getting on the roof as fast as you could. "Y/n! What are you doing!? You can get hurt!" Neteyam now began to panic, scared that you'd fall. "My children are in danger!" you yelled. Managing to get on top of the garage roof. "Be careful!" your now freaked out husband yelled.

You crawled on the roof, while Neteyam was trying to get the front door to open. You were careful in trying not to fall from the roof, but you didn't care if you got hurt, your babies needed you. Then you got to the window and peaked, seen your babies on the mat crying, wanting their parents. You attempted to pull the window the window up, but it seemed to be stuck, but you didn't give up. With all your strength, you continued to pull the window up.

Finally you manage to get the window to open wider and slipped inside. You rushed over to your babies, and scooped them up in your arms. "Shh shh shh, it's okay, mama's here" you said, holding the twin in both your arms, trying to get them to calm down, but then you heard a loud thud on down stairs, followed by some mad person running up the stairs. "Are the kids okay!?" Neteyam yelled once he entered the room.

Seen you with the twins in your arms, made him sigh in relief. "Thank Eywa" he said, going over to the mat and sat in front of you, taking Xam into his arms, holding her close. Loreyu had calmed down first, but Xam was still crying but once in her father's arms, she was now calming down. The moment was silent, seen your kids safe was all that mattered to you and Neteyam.

"I think we're going to have to cancel" you commented, still holding your son in your arms. "Yeah, I think you're right" he said. "What happened down stairs?" you asked, this question made Neteyam face turn into one of embarrassment. "I... uh... broke the front door" he said, making you chuckle. "I don't know how, I just got this instinct when I kept hearing the twins crying." He commented. "So did I, how strange" you stated. "I bet we look like mad people to the neighbors" you said with another laugh. "As long as our kids are safe, I don't care of what other think." Neteyam said with a smile.

#avatar x reader #avatar fics #avatar requests #atwow x reader #atwow fics #atwow requests #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #human neteyam #human neteyam x human reader #modern neteyam x modern reader #modern avatar #modern atwow #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam x wife reader #aphrodite's writing

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funkyllama · 4 months ago

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Question about your inheritance laws: if two monarchs were to die in quick succession, would the previous pool of electable inheritors be included in the second succession vote, even if they aren't technically eligible? Like if King Steve died, his brother Prince Dave would be eligible. But if Steve was succeeded by his son, King Reggie, would Dave still be eligible as the sibling of a deceased monarch, or would only Reggie's siblings and descendants be eligible?

Hiya anon!

I've been exploring the inclusion of these themes into my next story a lot lately. So, I'm going to answer this question from the lense of my characters, as we know them. For the sake of this question, Viviana II has two children: Yannik and Sigismund Viviana II has a brother: Erik Viviana II has a living mother: Princess Bernedette Viviana II has a living aunt: Princess Adrienne Viviana II has a living first cousin: Raheem Now, let's say Viviana II dies, tragically, after the birth of her second child. Both Yannik and Sigismund are minors, which makes them ineligible to inherit (but does not remove their rights to inheritance in the future) under normal circumstances. Her Mother was eligible when Viviana I's successor was being decided, however she was not present for the election of a new Monarch. Princess Bernedette retains her rights to inheritance. Her Aunt was eligible and participated as the opposing candidate in the election of Queen Viviana II's succession. Princess Adrienne lost her HRH status and eligibility to inherit the throne of the IU. Unlike their mothers, Erik and Raheem were present for the election of a new monarch, however they did not participate as they were non-heir presumptive grandchildren. A legitimate child or grandchild of a monarch retains the rights of election when they cannot participate. Viviana I's youngest sibling could not participate at the time of their father's death, making Princess Rose Mary eligible to inherit the Ionian Union. However, the death of Queen Viviana II could only result in the election of Erik as King of the Ionian Union, as he is the only Sibling (or child) of the Previous Monarch over the age of 18. Well. Erik also dies, he has no children. An election must be held and if it has been 18 years, his nephews, Yannik and Sigismund, have the truest claim. But, Princess Rose Mary and Princess Bernedette retain eligibility. The election would be between the four of them. There is also an argument of claims, within the Ionian Union. Ionians treat claims as if they are fully realized titles, they're respected culturally. Say, Erik had died before Yannik and Sigismund reached majority. They may be considered if the only choices are a Princess with no heirs and a Princess whose claim is from three monarchs ago. One could argue that Dowager Queen Hana holds the strongest claim to the Ionian Union, as her marriage led to its creation. King Philippe could claim the Ionian Union through marriage, as father to Prince Sigismund, and probably as a descendant of a House that was once the liege of the titles formerly consisting of the Union. With this argument, Crown Prince Louis of Pierreland would have a stronger claim to the title. Pierreland were also rulers over Ionian land, he's the father of Queen Viviana II's first child, and a cadet-branch of his house sat the Ionian throne as Queen Consort; Dowager Queen Hana was the grandchild of a former Emperor. Basically, it would become a shit-show. And I didn't even mention Uspanian claims. With succession drama usually comes the fall of monarchy, and discontinuation is built into Iona's very being.

#funkyllama ask #this is a long one

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basically-romealone · 2 years ago

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Weekend sleep-over

Shinichiro x fem reader

Fluff, domestic au, Mikey and Draken are twins, benkei is dad's to Takemichi and Kakucho, wakasa is uncle's to Rin and ran, Takeomi is senju and Sanzus dad, mom! Reader, Dad! Shinchiro, fem reader, female reader

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

"save some for your dad Manjiro" (name) said sternly as she set up for the sleep over.

Izana and Ken excitedly setting up the PlayStation as Emma waddled behind Manjiro "I will mama!" He said sneaking another cookie before trotting off, splitting it with Emma who beamed and accepted it.

Every weekend the black dragons pawned their kids off to each members house, last week's was Takeomi and tonight was Shinichiro, a bunch of giggling kids were about to show up and (name) was ready.

She had shin pick up two party pizzas, more than enough pizza for all those little belly's and snacks for the movie and games.

She was even letting them stay up till 9:30.

They were especially excited for the ice cream.

Wakasa recently took in his nephews, the two boys getting along well with the others.

"I got the food!" Shin said as his kids crowded him "oi! Out of my way you little blood hounds! You gotta wait for the others" shin grunted playfully as he set the food on the counter before lifting little Emma "you know when they're coming?' Shin asked his wife, giving her a kiss to the forehead "takeomi is coming with Haru and senju and Benkei is making a pitstop right now with Kaku and Michi"

Manjiro perked up at the mention of takemichi and Shinchiro rolled his eyes at this "this time don't throw a tantrum when someone else wants to play with him yeah?"

"I do share!"

"Mikey..."

"Fine!" The boy huffed and stomped off, the siblings going back to what they were doing as the boy pouted in the livingroom.

"How are you baby?" Shinichiro asked letting Emma go play and hugging his wife, swaying slightly "next week..." Shinchiro mumbled kissing her neck lovingly "maybe you could wear that red thing...?"

"You gotta earn that red thing..." (Name) smirked and glanced at her husband "and how would I earn that?" He whispered huskily "THATS MINE!" "NO ITS MINE!"

"Handling toddler meltdowns" she said turning him to the livingroom where all the little munchkins were arguing, returning to preparing snacks.

Takeomi was the first to arrive, little senju and Haruchiyo in their pajamas and shinichiro took senju who reached for him "alright you two, ready for a sleep over!" (Name) said happily as the Akashi family came inside, taking their shoes off and the adults let the kids run off to the livingroom to go play with the others "we have soda or juice, pick your poison" (name) teased as they went to the kitchen, having child friendly beverages and chatting away.

"Haru? Is there something you need sweety?" (Name) asked the boy who fidgeted slightly, he was always the quiet one "Senju needs to go potty..." He mumbled and (name) smiled "here, let's go help her" she said leading him and leaving the former black dragons.

"I genuinely didn't think we would get here"

"I still can't believe I lost that bet"

The two chuckled as they continued talking, it was honestly surreal for both of them... becoming parents...

Life was perfect.

DINGDONG

"Michi!" Mikey squealed out as Shin ran to beat his son to the door, the boy hugging his dad's leg as he opened it to see not benkei but Wakasa with little rin and Ran, the two in matching pajamas "Hello you lot! Get in get in!" Shinichiro let them in as (name) returned with haru and Senju "hello you two, snazzy pajamas!" (Name) knelt as the boys beamed "now why don't you two play? Izana has been excited to see you guys!"

The children ran off and Mikey pouted with his little fists on his hips "just think baby, the only people left are him and Kaku" (name) assured her son who thought about it and beamed "now why don't you go wait for him with the others? It's more fun in there" she convinced the little boy who toddled off.

"Like defusing a bomb..." Wakasa mused and (name) rolled her eyes "he's the easy one" she mused as they returned to the kitchen, wakasa eyeing the pizza "oi! Wait till Benny gets here" she hissed out to the man, the others snickering.

The kids were giggling and playing their games, Rin and Ran having brought some games with them and having fun while Emma and Senju played played with the Legos.

"Hey Mikey" (name) leaned on the door and the tiny blonde looked at his mom confused till little Takemichi poked his head out from behind her legs "MICHI!" Mikey practically screamed and ran to his best friend as Izana, ran and Rindō went to see Kakucho while Sanzu and Ken waddled to (name) "can we have dinner now?" Ken asked his mom who smiled "yes we can baby.." (name) gently carded her fingers through her sons hair "go get Emma and Senju and we can start dinner"

Dinner was chaotic and after the meal the three out of four black dragons said goodbye to their little ones, senju crying as she hugged her papa, the man consoling the little one and before they knew it it was movie time.

Emma snuggled into her mom's side as Shinichiro sat on the other with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, little senju in his lap.

The other kids had their sleeping bags rolled out for the livingroom sleep over and watched the movie focused and excited.

They barely got through the movie before passing out, (name) and Shin carrying the two toddlers upstairs to bed, placing them in the beds, having two from when Mikey and Draken were little just repainted.

"They're so little" shin mused as they went downstairs for clean-up and (name) smiled "they also grow so fast" she looked at the passed out kids fondly "I'm gonna miss this I know it..." (Name) mumbled and shin kissed her temple "hey, who knows we may get some grandkids"

"Hopefully" (name) mumbles with a smile as they continue dishes.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers #shinichiro x reader #fem reader #female reader #Shinichiro x fem reader #child characters #au

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harrystylesfan2686 · 1 year ago

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Pairing: Mor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture.

Summary: it's been a long time since seeing the most eternal beauty I've ever seen and now it's time to find her.

A/N: I'm really thankful to @thelov3lybookworm for giving me this idea to write. This is the first series I'll ever write so bare with me! I'll try my best. Thank you so much for chosing to read this. <3

Masterlist

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It had been five centuries since I last saw her face. Her bright, golden hair and those rich brown eyes.

I saw her on my Fifteenth birthday. Her beauty was so captivating that I had been staring at her without even realizing it. Her laugh was the most sweetest sound I'd ever heard. We spent the entire day in the garden that day talking and laughing.

My family just having moved there, I didn't know anyone else and it's not like father would ever allow me to wonder off alone, so it was nice having her with me.

I still remember the friendly smile that she gave me while first introducing herself. ''Hello, I'm Morrigan. You can call me Mor.''

We met and talked everyday for the next month. I loved her company. I looked forward it everyday. Every morning I woke up, I'd think about what I'll say to her that day. I realized I could not stop thinking about her even if I tried. I didn't know what I felt that time. I wasn't aware of my preference in women. But I didn't really care. All I cared about was meeting her on time everyday.

Until one day, she didn't come.

It's alright she might be busy. Her family is really strict. I'll just see her tomorrow.

She didn't show up, again.

One day turned to two. Two turned three. And before I even realized, It had been five hundred years.

I heard that she'd been promised in marriage to the eldest prince of Autum Court. I also heard that to get out of it, she had beded an illyrian and due to that her angement was broken. I had felt a little happy at that, knowing that she was free, the feeling was short lived as I got the news that her father tortured her brutally and left out on the border of Autum Court with a nail to her stomach stating she wasn't thier property anymore.

That day I felt a kind of rage I had never felt before. A kind that could tore my entire house down if I let go of my control on magic.

Now she was in Velaris. The city of dreams. Staying there with the high lord. She had found a home, a family that in these centuries. And now I'm going to see her.

My father had arranged me to a high fea for marriage without conversing to me about it. I saw it coming, to be honest. I knew my fate. My family has always told me that I am to be married off to an high rank family and play the role of a good wife to husband. I'm actual surprised that this didn't happen sooner but when people find out that I had once been a friend of a disrespectfull run away, they don't find interest in marrying thier sons to me.

I'm so grateful.

But now, somehow, my father did find a man for me. A low rank seven hundred eighty six year old pedophile who already has two very young wives. I tried to convince my father to not agree to this and let me be but he didn't listen.

So I ran.

I ran away from my father's house 3 days ago. With a lot og struggle and money, I have finally reached the City of Starlight.

Walking through its streets is a whole different experience. The joy that I see in the faces of the people living here is something rarely seen in the people of Hewn City. I'm shocked with how free the parents are with there children running wild around the garden and the lake, it just shows how safe this place is.

I want to find Mor. I want to see how she is after all these years. I want to know if she's changed. I want to ask her if she's thought about me over the years. I want to see her family. And most importantly, I want to ask her if she's happy.

I will find Mor.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar fluff #mor x reader #morrigan x reader #morrigan fanfiction #mor fanfiction #mor x femalereader #morrigan

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kerubimcrepin · 1 year ago

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Episode 9: The Legendary Unikron

The post where I finally make the naming format of this blog more sane

This is the same place as the one, where in the episode "Heads for no Tails" it will be revealed that Kerubim obtained the legendary, life-draining Heads for no Tails restraint while pissdrunk. Y'know. The one meant for an Ondine created by Djaul to trick the dragon Aguabrial into creating a Dofus.

Yeah, I will not think too much about the fact that it is flipped. To me, they're The Same Place. I guess he's been drinking here for decades. Kind of cute.

And yeah I guess it means the Ondine named Ondine, from the episode Like a Snapper in the Water is literally just named "Siren the Siren". I guess her mermaid parents weren't very creative. I'll mention this when I liveblog that episode too, but I would feel bad, if I didn't mention this here too.

We will talk about my feelings on Kerubim leaving the legendary demon-killing life-draining shackles somewhere Joris, in his shelf-climbing corridor-running wisdom, could reach, later.

We'll get there when we get there.

Glad to know there's a reason Kerubim and Joris live in a bad neighborhood. And that reason is that Kerubim wouldn't be tolerated anywhere else.

Love his scary and off-putting behaviours.

Okay, rant incoming:

Firstly, this is a customary french drink bowl, to stop any wondering from the non-french aware readers. It's normal for French people to drink coffee, milk, and tea from a bowl, soup-style, in the morning and in the evening. So this part is normal.

Now onto more sillywhacky part of this: What the fuck is Joris doing here, exactly?

As we can see, his Bowl of Liquid is steaming even before he starts pouring the chocolate milk into it. Is he adding chocolate milk to hot milk? Is he adding chocolate milk to cocoa or hot chocolate? (I will fight people who don't differentiate between them, they're two different things, you heathens.)

Is he, mayhaps, adding it... to tea?

We will never know, yet the question is haunting.

Interestingly, it seems that one of Simone's jobs around the house is polishing swords. Also, her being here so late means that, quite predictably, she is a live-in maid.

(You can see that like, 50% of this blog is me paying to random details that could only be useful in like, extremely faithful fanfiction, and 50% getting whacky with this show's storytelling.)

I love Simone so, so much. Truly, she is Joris's cooler aunt.

No comment besides this image.

Joking. I do have a comment, actually. Imagine me putting on a tinfoil hat here, btw.

I think it's kinda telling that Joris's main fear, the one that re-occurs a multiple times during the show, and always, without fail, makes him break down in tears, is Kerubim dying.

The facts that are important to keep in mind are: They've been living together alone for Joris's entire life, Joris knows he's adopted, and Kerubim himself is an orphan, which he doesn't really hide.

Which leads to multiple conclusions, which all coexist:

1. Joris is a kid who's very aware of the mortality of parents/guardians, and that, above everything else, that he is lucky to have a home and a semblance of family. That if Kerubim wasn't there, he may not have had that.

Which is uh... a pretty stressful thing for a kid his age to know, I suppose!

Especially considering the fact that Kerubim is an old man riddled with back pains, and for 7 years had such a level of post-lou-divorce post-battle-with-julith depression that he could not figure out how to get them into a clean, non-shitty non-hazardous home.

And now that their home IS clean, still can't make it non-hazardous.

2. Joris and Kerubim are much closer than most parents and children, because they literally have no other relatives, and Kerubim has pushed away most people who would consider him a friend in the past. Only relying on one another isn't the best or healthiest idea, but what choice do they have?

You can't just show up at home, be like "i would be dead, if it wasn't for you giving me water, my jojo <3" and not expect to inflict some eldritch horror levels of psychic damage onto your son.

Especially considering the fact, that he KNOWS, from your own shitty stories, that when you're gone, and it IS a when, because you're an old man who's constantly complaining about his health, he's going to be fending for himself all alone.

It's pretty obvious, then, why Joris would put Kerubim on a very high pedestal and, as will be shown later, prioritize the man's feelings over his own. Kerubim is his best friend, his role model, provider, guardian, AND the only one family member he has.

Besides depending on him, Joris knows papycha is a very, very lonely and sad person, — and who is he, not to try and make the life of the one person, who's most important to him, better?

If Kerubim isn't always happy, both in general and with Joris, then that's the worst thing ever, and if Kerubim isn't amazing, all-capable, and Not Going To Die Within The Next Couple Of Years Due To Being Old As Fuck, then their life is Over.

So Joris has to put in a lot of work.

This analysis isn't even picking apart the nitty-gritty of Kerubim being an orphan and having abandonment issues, or the way those things make him latch onto Joris the same way Joris latches onto him — as if this child is his Only Hope and Savior, Who Won't Leave Him Like All The Others.

And how that might lead to him REALLY liking Joris idealizing and putting him on a pedestal, despite the guilt he might feel knowing that that's kind of a... not-good parenting tactic.

...Man this post isn't even a rewatch liveblog anymore, it's just an analysis post, innit? 💀

#ep9 #wakfu #dofus #krosmoz #ro liveblogs dofus #joris jurgen #kerubim crepin

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msanonymous · 8 months ago

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There are tears in my eyes when you mention taking me to the hospital again.

But you're too busy doing something else to look at me.

Like how it's been my whole life. I don't want to go there. They'll kill me.

Or worse, they'll find a cure to undo the effects of my attempts at it.

“Are you dying?” a kid sitting across from me in a hospital lobby questions innocently.

I smile at him in the niqab and wonder,

If he's old enough to tell it from eyes. “I don't know it yet.” I answer.

“Then are you here to get a new hand like me?"

I avoid looking at his sling to save my heart from breaking,

as I say “No I'm here to get new blood.” He tilts his head like he doesn't get it.

But then starts telling me about the time he got scared while getting an iv,

I listen to him like there's nothing in this world more interesting than it. There isn't anything really.

He has so much sparkle in his eyes,

that I want to pick him up and run away.

So that I can save him from this cruel world.

Protect his toothy smile from these people to snatch away.

But then I remember what I did to the child in the mirror.

I was supposed to love her.

I couldn't, it's not my fault though.

She didn't have anything worthy in her.

There's a pigeon with an injured wing living on the tree in front of my window.

Everyday the sun rises in the sky and so does it,

or tries to, only to fall below,

hard on the ground, I flinch when it happens, but then at least it's better at this thing than me.

I wonder if I'd also be trying everyday if I just had an injured wing?

Living, not surviving?

I wonder if I had wings in the past and they took them away?

Is that what the scars on my back are trying to say?

If yes, than what about the scars on my heart. Is there a way to fix it?

Fix it? Fix it? Fix... Me?

That's what my sister says to me while,

We walk back home when the moon's high in the sky.

“I wish you could fix yourself, so we could go back to how it was before.”

How was it before? I try to remember.

I can't. There was no before.

Just pain and some more.

“What in me needs to be fixed?”

I hesitate so much before asking the question

that my voice betrays me and dies in my throat.

She speeds up her pace and reaches home.

Leaving my bones behind to shiver in the wind,

I look up at the sky and ask

“What in me needs to be…

My voice dies from humiliation before reaching above

A new dawn comes, outside my window, but it stays night inside,

I prostrate before my lord and ask him for relief, despite being unsure if I deserve it,

I walk to the park, under the sky of birds leaving their homes behind.

I didn't. I don't even know where it is or if there's one mine.

There's an old lady smiling at the sight of kids playing.

I can't help but notice the way her eyes crinkle behind her glasses as she does so.

Maybe I stared too long, because she's turning her head towards me, I turn away quickly because it's mortifying,

To be seen, to exist, to breathe in public.

“I always loved kids,” she begins, her voice having a motherly affection.

Please don't say you couldn't become a mother, please, please.

She does.

I close my eyes with pain. “I'm sorry,” I try to say but it feels too useless, too small, too petty, too... me.

Sorry. It's the word just like my whole existence.

“I can't either,” I say looking ahead at the children.

“Oh I'm sorry!” she says. And it starts to bleed as the glass coated sorry of mine that was stuck in my throat slides its way to my stomach.

So I muster a nod and whisper what I should've said instead of sorry in the first place, “Fiha khair!”

I whisper the words to myself the entire walk back to my house.

Whisper them as my head hits the pillow and sleep seems too faraway.

Whisper them as relief feels too distant

Whisper them as relief comes to me and says I'm not coming, so I just shake my head and

Beg my lord as my head lulls to sleep:

‘To take me when he's pleased with me’

I open my eyes at the sound of beep

It's of a machine attached to the heart of my body

#scattered pages of my diary

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broadraiwrites · 21 days ago

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I'm A Part of That Whumpuary Day 9: Darkness Verse: All Elite Wrestling Pairing: Malakai Black/Bonnie Black (oc) Mentions: None Warnings: Depression, Dissociation Word Count: 1,285

Malakai Black was not often one to express his feelings. He often kept his own suffering to himself, though he was always trying to guide others through theirs. The guidance and mentoring of others was something that had always been important to him ever since childhood. Keeping his problems to himself, however, could occasionally lead to nights like this one where he simply felt there was no answer to the struggle he was facing. He sat in the center of the dimly lit room, his legs crossed beneath him in a familiar position to any who knew him. The only light in the room came from the candles lit on the two altars and the ones scattered around the room, forming a circle around him. He found himself positioned closer to the altar belonging to his wife, Bonnie. Hers was an altar to Persephone, while his position to the right of him was an altar to Hades.

He took a shaky breath, trying his best to gather himself. But no matter how hard he tried, the weight still seemed to loom on his chest. There was a darkness so much larger than that of the size of the room that seemed to be enveloping him, suffocating him. Even with the powers he had gained in his sacrifice, he could not seem to ward off this darkness. He could not seem to escape the cold that lingered deeply in his bones. It seemed its only desire was to pull the darkness closer, and the darker it got, the colder it seemed to be until his very soul felt like an ice cube lodged deeply in his chest.

Meditation was usually the answer for nights like this. In moments when he could not find himself or find the focus that he needed to care for his wife and children, he could often find that focus again after a few hours of deep meditation. These last few weeks, however, he couldn't seem to find anything no matter how long he sat deep in his thoughts trying to reach his subconscious to find the true cause of the darkness that weighed so heavily on him. He knew in previous moments when he had felt this darkness coming closer that he had been cruel to his Bonnie in many ways. As he could feel the anger setting in again, he worried what he might say or do to her in a state that he could not seem to stop no matter what he did. He did not want to lash out at her as if she were the cause of the darkness and the chill that seemed to overtake all of the members of the House this time of year.

As someone who was often in control of his emotions to what some would deem an unnatural level, this loss of control in the winter months seemed to eat at him. This wasn't who he was. It was as if another being entirely inhabited the husk that was his body as the winter chill took over, and he was helpless to control their actions. It was as if he sat within his own mind watching himself move throughout the day and screaming that this wasn't the person he was, these weren't the things he would do. While lost in his thoughts, trying once again to find an answer that seemed to be running from him, Malakai did not hear the door open, did not hear it close again, and had not seen his wife transferring from her wheelchair onto the floor beside him.

“You aren't doing this alone,” her lightly accented voice that seemed to carry a bit of both her mother's southern accent and her father's Scottish brogue in its lilt. “You keep shutting yourself off from us, shutting yourself off from me, but you do not have to do this alone. I know what the winter has done to you since we made our choices; I have seen it happen again and again. This is not some new phenomenon that I am afraid of or that I am running from—you're my husband.” She couldn't help but smile a little. “Trip us or trap us, but we refuse to fall, remember?” The actress quoted. She knew the show itself didn't have the happiest of endings, but the line seemed relevant in the moment. She moved herself around carefully to position herself in front of him, their knees pressed against one another. “Give me your hands,” she spoke, giving him directions in a gentle but authoritative tone that her mother might have used with the patient she was taking care of.

Malakai did not open his eyes to look at his wife; he reached his hands out to lay them on top of hers as she had directed. She always had a way of soothing him, as if she were the one controlling the mind he had lost all sense of. He took a deep breath and squeezed her hands. “I wish I could explain to you what all of this feels like, how the weight I carry suffocates me, but I do not have the words to describe it accurately.”

“Do not have the words at all, or do you not have the words in English?” Bonnie clarified knowing that in times of stress the language seemed to leave him, and she tried her best not to force him through those struggles when she was capable of understanding what he needed in his mother tongue to a certain degree.

“I do not have the words at all; in fact, it feels as though the words have not been invented, as if this is some entirely new sensation that has yet to be defined by anyone else.” He took a deep breath, trying to gather the words that would come the closest, even if they wouldn't explain things perfectly. He knew that she was right, that as much as he did not want to burden her, he could not do this on his own. He needed her as Hades needed Persephone. “I feel as if my body is not my own, as if my soul does not match the actions performed by the vessel that it lives within. I am afraid of myself, and I do not like how it feels. I do not want this thing that houses my consciousness to harm you or to harm our children More than I know I already have. I do not know what to do with myself; perhaps I do not even know who I am right now.”

“The winter months are always difficult, even without the sacrifices that we have made,” she began. “The world darkens, and we are left to figure out what it means. Even if you have lost yourself,” she released his hands to instead cup his face, causing him to open his eyes for the first time since she entered the room, “I will always be here to help you find it again. I will always be by your side no matter what the world throws at us. I promised you that, and I meant it. I know who I married, and if he has lost himself, then I will spend every day, every change of the season, reminding you exactly who you are and exactly why I married you. I am not afraid to spend a part of my life in the cold; after all, that is what she does for six months of the year, isn't it?” She smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “It takes more than one to keep things going; you have to let me carry my half.”

#whumpuary2025 #whumpuaryno9 #darkness

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