#i feel like my nosiness is being indulged

[andypantsx3]

i love when writers share little wip snippets or notes on their research or just random thoughts about the wip they're writing like yessss feed me ur crumbs that shit is so scrumptious

[gifti3]

another thing I enjoy about asmos character is that we get hints about some of his past romantic relationships

Im sure the other brothers have engaged with others in the past but actually getting to read about it is interesting to me

[b4kuch1n]

I used to feel like very Eh on Leon but your art has made him (and Sonia and Raihan tbh) some of my favorite Pokémon characters of all time, I love him/them now, so thank you for that :)

haha thank you! I'm glad to be the gateway for some folks. I really love them so fuckin much

[chuluoyi]

the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

[parkers-gal]

peaches J.B.

summary: the team finds out about bucky's secret relationship with you

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader (non-avenger reader)

timeline: post civil war but excluding endgame endings

wc: 1.4k

warnings: drabble, lowercase writing, nothing nsfw, not proof read or betaed

author's note: this is self indulgent, one of my first bucky's fics, and my first fic in 4 years (bear with me). don't know if i'll write any requests but... feel free to send them anyways!

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

there’s a light purple hair tie holding the ends of bucky’s hair together. he shifts around the kitchen quietly. he’s up before the rest of the compound, having just returned from your apartment, unbeknownst to the rest of the team.

as he pours the fresh brew of coffee, sam struts in wearing gym clothes and a peppy smile.

it’s too early for him, bucky thinks to himself. 

“what’s up tin man?”

he’s met from silence but before sam can say something else, steve and nat join them in the kitchen for breakfast.

“morning buck.”

“morning,” he takes a small sip from his mug. 

sam turns to the fridge behind bucky, but as he does, he notices the light colored string in bucky’s hair. 

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” nat asks

sam points to the back of bucky’s head, “the thing in his hair.”

“it’s called a hair tie, sam” nat laughs without even looking at bucky.

“but why is it purple?” 

nat and steve are quiet as they turn to look at bucky’s hair. bucky puts his mug on the counter and turns to face them so they can’t look at his head. 

“maybe i just wanted some color today. what’s the big deal?”

nat shrugs and pours some creamer into her coffee, but sam being sam won’t drop this until he gets what he’s after.

“did you go to claire’s?

“who’s claire?”

steve chuckles, not at bucky’s confusion but at sam’s insistence. truth be told, steve doesn’t know what claire’s is, either. so, he changes the subject

“you guys training today?”

bucky nods, sam and steve exchange meet up times, and bucky retreats back to his room to start the day. not before shooting you a quick text and a promise to meet up for lunch.

Meet you at Jitters? For coffee?

See you at 1 :) 

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it’s been a week since sam noticed bucky’s purple hair tie and thankfully, he hasn’t noticed – or mentioned that he’s noticed – bucky leave late and come back early in the morning. every night, without fail, bucky takes his motorcycle to your small apartment and spends the night with you. he’d honestly move in with you at this point, but that would mean telling the rest of the team about his relationship with you, and that wasn’t a level of nosy he wanted to endure. 

the curtain covers the sunlight seeping through your bedroom window. you yawn the remnants of sleep and turn over in bucky’s hold. his eyes flutter and you smile as he starts waking up.

“morning, doll,” his thumb rubs your hip and you nuzzle further into his touch.

your smile is soft, “good morning. what time do you need to be back?”

his lips purse for a moment, and his eyes hold a glint of mischief in them. “i think i can have breakfast here, peaches.”

“really?” you beam. “they won’t get too suspicious?”

his hand reaches down to hold your cheek, eyes crinkling in a smile he only ever gives you.

“maybe sam and steve, but… maybe it’s time.”

you sit up a little, leaning on your elbow. “really?” you can’t hide the growing smile on your face. “you wanna tell them about us?”

“at least steve.” he blushes, evidently nervous. “i want him to meet you.”

you’re giddy at the idea. you know how important steve is to bucky, and meeting steve is like a stepping stone in your relationship. it’s not that bucky hasn’t been serious about your relationship, but it was hard for him to open up to you at first, and to openly express love for you. he loves doting on you, but in front of the whole team? it’s something he hasn’t worked up to, yet.

you reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze and leaning down to peck his adorably pink lips. his hand grips your hip and after a moment, he parts his lips, trying to pull you down onto his chest. you giggle, moving away from him and pulling the covers off your lap. bucky groans as you pull on his sweater and make your way to the kitchen.

by the time bucky makes it back to the compound, it’s over an hour after he’s usually in the compound kitchen for morning coffee. sam is in the hallway as bucky leaves the elevator to head back to his room. he hoped he could avoid anyone seeing him get back, but sam loves to pry.

“where have you been?”

bucky grumbles, “what’s it to you?”

they reach bucky’s room. sam stops outside the door, analyzing his teammate. 

“you weren’t here when i came by your room last night either.”

bucky freezes. it’s momentary, but sam still notices. 

“i went out.”

“spent the night?”

“no.” he’s quick to respond. “no, you just didn’t see me get back, bird brain.”

sam rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe while bucky shuffles through his drawers for some workout clothes.

where is my gym bag?

“well, steve is already downstairs waiting for you. it’s sparring day.”

when bucky turns around, sam is gone. he exhales, gets changed, and makes his way towards the gym. just like sam said, steve is already warming up in the ring with natasha and clint. 

“you’re finally awake,” clint comments.

bucky doesn’t respond. he sets his stuff on the sideline bench, puts his phone by his water, and starts wrapping his hands. fifteen minutes later, he’s dancing around the ring with steve while natasha yells out adjustments. 

bucky’s phone buzzes once, then twice, and by the third time, sam and clint walk over to it, glancing at the screen before confusingly look at each other. clint shrugs, so sam picks it up and turns towards the ring.

“who’s ‘peaches?’”

bucky freezes, his wrists dropping. steve pauses, looking to natasha and then to sam. bucky spits his mouthguard out.

“why are you looking through my things?”

“your phone went off like four times.”

“and you just go through it?!” bucky clenches his jaw, trying to pry off his gloves.

“buck, what’s he talking about?”

sam interjects, “there’s someone named ‘peaches’ texting him!”

everyone turns towards bucky. he tries so hard not to blush, but thinking of you, he can’t help it. 

“just … someone.”

“a girl?” natasha asks.

a beat of silence goes by. “... maybe?”

sam gasps “i knew you were hiding something!”

“woah, slow down,” steve takes his gloves off. “buck… are you seeing someone?”

another beat of silence, and bucky exhales in defeat. “yeah, i am.”

the group collectively bursts with questions. tony, hearing the commotion, joins them. sam is giddy but bucky is beat red, moving to snatch his phone from sam’s hands. 

“can we meet her?”

tony nods, “yeah, i wanna see tin man be more than just grumpy.”

bucky’s brows furrow, “i told her she would only meet steve at first.”

sam’s shoulders slump. “why can’t she just come right now?”

natasha rolls her eyes. “i’m sure she has a job, sam.”

bucky’s phone buzzes again – a text from you. he smiles down at it, and that makes steve and sam exchange a look of surprise. the group grows quiet, but bucky simply leaves the room. 

“what the- what??” sam turns to steve expecting him to know what to do.

“i don’t know” steve responds.

“you could just follow him” clint suggests, laughing as sam, steve, and natasha trail after bucky on the same path.

downstairs, bucky meets you out front. you’re holding bucky’s gym bag and smiling as you approach him. 

“you left this at my place, you goose,” you giggle when he finally reaches you.

“peaches i-” before he can warn you, you gasp, peering over bucky’s shoulder at the group of avengers huddled by the entrance. bucky cranes his neck to see what you’re staring at, and he sighs, turning back to you. 

“i’m sorry peaches, sam saw your texts before i did and i… i couldn’t- i’m sorry.”

your eyes are sympathetic and you reach up to touch his stubble, cupping his cheek. you stand on your tip toes and kiss his cheek gently. 

“that’s okay, james.” you smile reassuringly and it makes him want to kiss you, so he does. he cups your face with both hands and kisses you as if he’s been suffocating and you’re the only air he can breathe. faintly, you hear a whistle from sam, and steve shuffles his feet, back turning towards the two of you as he scratches the back of his neck, not wanting to watch you. 

you grip bucky’s wrist, engulfed in the smell of amber and something distinctly bucky. you begin to smile, and eventually bucky breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours. 

“wanna meet the team?”

my masterlist ♡

[goldfades]

LOVE IS THE ONE THING THAT CANNOT BE TAINTED BY FEAR OR DOUBT──FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW

part two!!!

for this request!!

─ summary | you and father charlie share a bond that goes beyond the confines of your church duties, with your public image as a nurturing servant masking the frustration and resentment you harbor privately. when nun megan grows suspicious and begins spying, she uncovers the intimate, vulnerable side of your relationship, catching a moment where emotions boil over into something more forbidden

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!mother!reader

─ word count | 6k

─ warnings | few kisses, kinda angsty, pretty wholesome though, nun megan being nosy AF, mentions/descriptions of being longing to be a mother + have a family, forbidden love, ends on a cliff hanger (part 2 coming soon, i just couldn't fit everything in one part)

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). again this turned out very wordy and self-indulgent, my apologies

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, the wisps of smoke curling upward toward the stained glass windows, where muted beams of light filter through, casting the nave in shades of gold and crimson. The church is quiet now, save for the soft rustle of robes and the shuffling feet of the last parishioners as they take their leave. You remain rooted to your spot at the front, hands clasped in front of you, your gaze lowered in practiced reverence.

You’ve spent years perfecting this image—a serene, dutiful figure in service to the church. The warmth you offer is genuine, but it's also an armor, a shield from the world beyond the altar. You can feel their eyes on you as they depart, expecting grace, expecting humility, expecting nothing more than what you’ve always given them.

But beneath the surface, you can feel the stirrings of something else. The long hours, the endless work, the weight of expectations—it grinds against you, slowly wearing away at the image you’ve created. And no one sees it. No one, except him.

Father Charlie stands beside the altar, his back turned to you as he speaks to one of the deacons, his voice low and calming, as it always is. There’s something about him—something steady, something real—that draws you to him. He’s the only one who understands the pressures you both face, the only one who sees through the veneer you maintain for the sake of the church.

As the last of the congregation filters out, a wave of relief washes over you. The doors close with a soft echo, leaving the two of you in the lingering quiet of the empty church. You allow yourself to breathe, to let go of the tightness in your chest. It’s only in moments like these, when the others have gone, that you can finally be yourself—unburdened by the expectations of the flock, free from the eyes of those who can never truly understand.

But you sense it, don’t you? That something else is watching, something creeping at the edges of this sanctuary, waiting for you to slip.

You feel a prickle of awareness, an instinct, perhaps, that you’re not as alone as you think. But you push it aside, telling yourself it’s nothing—just the remnants of the day clinging to your thoughts. After all, in the safety of the church, what could possibly be wrong?

You step forward, closer to Father Charlie, your voice dropping to a murmur. “They never stop looking, do they?”

He turns toward you, and there’s a softness in his expression—something that tells you he’s been thinking the same thing. “No,” he says quietly, “they never do.”

You exchange a glance with Father Charlie, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He sees the cracks in your facade, the weight you carry, but you don’t speak of it yet. Instead, you let the stillness of the church settle over you like a heavy cloak.

From the corner of your eye, you notice a figure lingering near the back of the nave, her sharp eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. Nun Megan.

She’s always watching, isn’t she? Always hovering on the fringes, her gaze lingering just a second too long whenever you’re near Father Charlie. At first, you thought it was nothing—just her usual vigilance. But lately, you’ve felt her eyes more than ever, probing, curious. She’s never said anything outright, but the suspicion is there, woven into every glance, every pause when the two of you are together.

Today is no different.

She lingers by the back pew, her hands folded in front of her, eyes flicking between you and Father Charlie, as though waiting for something, anything, to confirm what she already suspects. You can feel the weight of her judgment, subtle but ever-present, like a shadow you can’t shake.

Father Charlie hasn’t noticed her yet, his focus still on you as he speaks softly, a reassuring tone to his words. “You know we can’t let this consume us. What we do here… it’s bigger than us.”

His words are meant to calm you, to pull you back from the edge of frustration, but your thoughts are already racing. You glance toward Nun Megan again, just in time to see her quickly avert her gaze, pretending to adjust a candle on the altar. She’s watching—of course, she’s watching.

You wonder if she’s been watching longer than you realize.

“I know,” you say, your voice low. But the bitterness creeps in, twisting your words. “But sometimes I think we’re expected to be more than human. How long are we supposed to pretend we don’t feel anything?”

Charlie’s eyes soften, but before he can respond, you see him glance over your shoulder—finally catching sight of Nun Megan. The tension in the room shifts, subtle but palpable. He straightens, his face smoothing into the calm, composed expression he wears so well. “Sister Megan,” he calls out, his voice gentle but pointed.

She steps forward, her smile small and tight, her eyes darting between you both. “Father Charlie,” she says softly, inclining her head in a show of respect. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just… making sure everything was in order.”

Her words hang in the air, innocuous enough on the surface, but there’s something else there, hidden beneath her polite tone. You can see it in her eyes—the doubt, the questions she doesn’t dare ask.

Not yet, anyway.

Father Charlie offers her a kind smile, though you can tell he senses it too. “Everything’s fine, Sister,” he says. “We were just finishing up.”

But even as she nods and steps back, you know this won’t be the last time. She’ll keep watching, waiting for the moment when your guard slips. And when it does, she’ll be ready.

As Nun Megan retreats to the back of the church, your pulse quickens. You’ve held your composure for now, but the unease gnaws at you. The walls feel tighter, the air more stifling. She’s already too close, and it’s only a matter of time before she sees more than you want her to.

Father Charlie steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “We have to be careful.”

You nod, but inside, you know it’s already too late. Megan’s already seen enough to suspect—and suspicion, in a place like this, is dangerous.

───

You lay on Charlie's bare chest, still breathless from the earlier exertion. The warmth of his skin radiates beneath your cheek, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along the scars and soft ridges of his chest. The room is quiet, save for the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the muted sound of your heartbeats thrumming together in the aftermath of what you’ve just shared. The intimacy of the moment feels stolen—like something you shouldn't have, but neither of you can resist.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself sink into the softness of him, the way he smells of incense and something darker, something distinctly him. This is the one place where the world falls away, where the weight of your roles within the church, the expectations, the endless eyes watching your every move—they don't matter here. In these stolen moments, you’re not the pious Mother superior they expect you to be, and Charlie is not the solemn priest. Here, in the seclusion of your shared quarters, you are simply you and him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers brushing through your hair as if to anchor you to him, to the present. You shift slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, the usual veil of composure lowered, revealing the tenderness he reserves only for you. There’s a question in his gaze, though, something unspoken yet palpable, like a prayer hanging in the air between you both.

“Do you think she suspects?” you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as though even here, in this hidden sanctuary, you’re afraid to speak too loudly.

Charlie’s hand stills for a moment in your hair, and he hesitates before answering. “She watches,” he says softly, his tone measured but tinged with a hint of unease. “Megan always watches.”

You bite your lip, trying to push away the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. Nun Megan’s eyes have been everywhere lately, her presence lingering in corners, her footsteps echoing in halls where no one should be. You can feel her judgment even when she’s not there, like a shadow creeping just behind you.

“What if she knows?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly. “What if she’s already seen too much?”

Charlie’s hand cups your cheek, drawing your gaze back to his. “We’ve been careful,” he reassures you, his voice steady and soothing. “But even if she suspects, we won’t let her tear us apart. Not here. Not now.”

His words should comfort you, but they don’t. There’s too much at stake—too many risks. And yet, despite everything, you can’t pull away. The bond between you both is too deep, too powerful to sever. You close your eyes again, letting the quiet blanket you both, willing the worries to dissolve into the stillness.

But somewhere beyond the walls of this sanctuary, you know Nun Megan is watching. Waiting. And it’s only a matter of time before the veil of secrecy slips, and the forbidden truth of what you share is laid bare.

The silence between you and Father Charlie feels heavier now, like the air has thickened with all the unspoken words and the knowledge that your time together might soon be fractured by someone else’s gaze. You shift your body, propping yourself up slightly on his chest so you can look at him fully.

His brow is furrowed, but he wears the same soft expression he always does when he's with you, the kind that calms your nerves even when the weight of the world presses in on you. You reach out and gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You can’t be the one to carry all the worry," he murmurs, his voice deep and soothing, laced with that unwavering faith that you’ve come to rely on. He places his hand over yours, his thumb tracing circles against your knuckles. “I can see it in your eyes—you’ve been holding too much inside.”

You want to deny it, to say that you’re strong enough, that you can bear whatever comes next, but you know he’s right. There’s too much weighing you down—too many people to answer to, too many demands, and far too many secrets.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. “Not just of Megan… but of what happens if we get caught. What they’ll do to us. What they’ll do to you.” You lower your gaze, the vulnerability of the confession hanging between you like a leaden weight.

Charlie exhales softly, his hand moving to your jaw, tilting your chin up so that your eyes meet his again. There’s something fierce in his gaze now, an intensity that reassures you despite the uncertainty swirling around you both.

“Whatever happens,” he says, his voice firm, “we’ll face it together. They can’t take that away from us.”

“What if it’s not enough?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “What if this… this thing we share, this love—what if it’s not enough to save us?”

The church is supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of peace and solace, but lately, it’s felt more like a prison. You can sense the walls closing in, the tension rising between the expectation of holiness and the very human desires you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Charlie shakes his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “It is enough,” he insists. “Love is the one thing that can’t be tainted by fear or doubt. What we have—it’s sacred in its own way. Even if the church sees it differently.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. His words wrap around you like a protective shroud, and in this space—this room, away from the watchful eyes of the others—it’s easy to imagine that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. That what you have can survive the scrutiny, the judgment, and the dangers that loom just outside these walls.

But as much as you want to cling to that hope, the doubt is still there, lurking at the edges of your thoughts.

You don’t say anything else, instead letting your head fall back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you. The sound is calming, a tether to the present, to this moment you share together.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that time is running out. That soon, Nun Megan will step beyond suspicion and into certainty, and when she does, the fragile world you’ve built with Charlie will come crashing down.

Outside, the wind howls against the old stone walls of the church, a reminder of the world waiting for you beyond this small sanctuary. But for now, for this brief and precious moment, it’s just you and him—together, against whatever comes next.

───

The sun hangs high in the clear afternoon sky, casting a golden light over the open field where the annual church picnic is in full swing. Children run through the grass, their laughter ringing out like tiny bells carried on the breeze, while the adults gather around tables laden with food, exchanging pleasantries and stories. You stand near the edge of the field, watching as a group of children pulls you into their game of tag, their faces lit up with joy and mischief.

You can’t help but laugh, your heart light as you chase after them, the stress and fear that have weighed on you for so long melting away, if only for a moment. The children's energy is infectious, their innocence a brief but welcome reprieve from the gravity of the world you usually inhabit. They dart around you, giggling and shrieking with excitement as they narrowly avoid your grasp, their small hands brushing against yours in passing.

You catch a young girl in your arms, swinging her around in a playful twirl before setting her down. Her laughter is so pure, so unburdened by the weight of the world, and it stirs something inside you—a long-forgotten lightness that you’ve almost forgotten was there.

From across the field, Father Charlie watches you, his eyes softening as they follow your movements. You are radiant in this moment, free from the burden of secrets and suspicion, your face bright with genuine joy as you interact with the children. His heart swells at the sight, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

He has always admired your strength—the way you carry so much, how you stand tall even when the weight of your responsibilities threatens to break you. But here, now, seeing you like this, surrounded by children, laughing freely, Charlie feels something different. Something deeper.

It's more than just admiration. It’s a longing, a quiet ache for something more than the life he’s chosen. Watching you with the children sparks a warmth inside him he hadn’t known he could still feel, a yearning for a different kind of closeness. One that he knows is forbidden, yet he can’t help but dream about.

You twirl around with another child, your smile wide as they tumble into your arms. For a brief second, you catch Charlie’s gaze from across the field, and your eyes meet. There’s something in his look that makes your breath catch—a tenderness, a softness that you’ve rarely seen outside the privacy of your hidden moments together. His lips curl into a small, almost shy smile, as though he’s caught himself staring but can’t quite tear his gaze away.

For a moment, it feels as if the rest of the world fades away. The laughter of the children, the hum of conversations, even the sounds of nature—all of it dulls into the background as you stand there, frozen in that quiet exchange with Charlie.

It’s a connection you feel deep in your chest, one that’s always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but is now rising to the forefront, too powerful to ignore.

The children pull you back into the game, and the moment is broken, but the warmth of Charlie’s gaze lingers with you. As you chase after the little ones again, you feel a blush creep up your neck, knowing that even here, in the open, with the church congregation all around, there’s something between you that no one else can touch.

Charlie tears his eyes away, his heart still beating a little faster than before. He forces himself to join in the casual conversations around him, but his thoughts remain with you, and that moment. He’s always been good at keeping his emotions at bay, keeping his desires hidden beneath the layers of duty and faith. But now, watching you like this, he feels those walls crumbling, just a little.

And for the first time in a long while, he allows himself to wonder: What would it be like to have this warmth—to hold onto it, to let it fill the hollow spaces inside him? What would it be like if the life he’d chosen wasn’t a barrier but something that could coexist with the connection he feels with you?

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. But they cling to him, persistent, like the warmth in his chest that refuses to fade.

As the afternoon wears on, and the children slowly tire out, you make your way back toward the picnic tables where the rest of the congregation was. Your cheeks flushed with exertion, your hair slightly wind-tossed, and you catch Charlie watching you again, and this time, there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter—a promise, perhaps, or a confession yet to be spoken. Charlie begins making his way over to you, a warm smile on his lips.

One of the little girls run up to you once again, practically tumbling into your arms. You giggle, grabbing her waist and pulling her into your lap.

"Mother Y/N, have you ever wanted children?" she asks.

Her question catches you off guard. The little girl's innocent eyes peer up at you, wide and curious, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. You feel Charlie’s presence nearby, his footsteps slowing as he hears the question, and your heart skips a beat.

You smooth the girl's hair back gently, buying yourself a second to gather your thoughts. Children… it’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to think about much, not with the path you've chosen. Being a mother in the literal sense feels like an impossible dream—something meant for another life, another version of you.

Still, the warmth of the child in your lap, her trust and affection, tugs at something deep inside you.

You smile softly, running your fingers through her hair. “I suppose I have,” you admit, your voice gentle. “There was a time when I thought I might have a family of my own one day. But now... I think my place is here, taking care of all of you.”

The little girl tilts her head, a frown crossing her face as she processes your words. “But wouldn’t you like to be a real mama?” she asks, her small hands gripping your arm as if to anchor you to the moment, to the question.

Before you can answer, you feel a presence behind you—Charlie has arrived. He crouches down beside you, his hand brushing your shoulder in a gesture so natural, so easy, that it almost makes your heart ache.

“The way you care for everyone here,” he says softly, his voice warm and filled with admiration, “I think you’re already a mother to so many.”

You glance up at him, your eyes meeting his, and there’s something in his gaze—something gentle and understanding, but also deeper, more personal. His words resonate in a way that goes beyond the roles you’ve both taken on within the church. For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine it—what it would be like if things were different, if you and Charlie could have a life beyond the confines of the walls you’ve built around yourselves.

The girl beams, nodding in agreement. “See? You’re like a mama to us already,” she declares, then wraps her small arms around your neck in a tight hug before hopping off your lap and running back toward the other children, her energy renewed.

You watch her go, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. When you turn back to Charlie, he’s still crouched beside you, his expression softened by something you can’t quite put into words.

“You handled that well,” he says quietly, his smile reaching his eyes.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I was prepared for that kind of question, if I'm being honest.”

He chuckles too, and for a brief moment, the world feels lighter, the weight of everything you’ve been holding inside lifted by the simple connection between you two.

But as the children’s laughter echoes around you and the other parishioners continue with their picnic, you feel the weight of reality creeping back in. This quiet moment with Charlie—this glimpse of what could be—feels like a fleeting dream. You know the path you’ve both chosen is far more complicated than that. Yet, as you stand together in the warm afternoon sun, you allow yourself to linger in this feeling for just a little while longer.

Charlie’s hand brushes against yours, lingering for just a moment, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever challenges come your way, you won’t be facing them alone.

───

The last light of day has faded, leaving the courtyard steeped in a deep, quiet twilight. You stand by the fountain, your fingers tracing the cold, rough surface of the stone. You try to breathe deeply, but frustration gnaws at your insides. On the outside, you wear the same mask you always do—calm, nurturing, and devout. But inside, there’s an ever-present storm, growing louder by the day.

Your thoughts drift back to Father Charlie, to the comfort he offered earlier. His words felt like a balm on your wounds, but they didn’t erase the resentment. The weight of expectations presses on your shoulders—constant demands, endless servitude, all while suppressing the truth of who you are.

Your gaze flickers toward the chapel, half-hoping to see him stepping into the courtyard. But the figure that emerges from the shadows isn’t him.

Nun Megan.

Her steps are silent but deliberate, and her eyes are as sharp as ever. You’ve noticed her watching lately—her gaze lingering on you and Father Charlie, suspicion glinting in her eyes.

“Out late again, I see,” she says, her voice carrying a quiet accusation. She stops a few feet away, her gaze fixed on you, unblinking. “You’ve been spending a great deal of time in Father Charlie’s company.”

You stiffen at her words, but force yourself to remain composed. You know how to wear the mask—how to keep the perfect image intact. “I seek guidance, Sister Megan,” you reply, your voice measured. “Father Charlie offers wisdom.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her expression hard. “Guidance, is it?” There’s no mistaking the suspicion in her voice now. “We all seek guidance, but you’ve been… close.”

The accusation hangs in the air between you, cold and heavy. You feel a flash of anger rise within you, but you suppress it, keeping your voice even. “We are all called to be close to God. To each other, Sister.”

Megan steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Perhaps. But eyes are everywhere. You should be careful. It’s my duty to protect the sanctity of this place.” Her words are a thinly veiled threat, warning you that she’s watching.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Sister Megan.”

You turn at the sound of Father Charlie’s voice, relief washing over you as he steps into the courtyard. His presence brings with it a sense of calm, as if the storm threatening to engulf you has momentarily eased. His gaze flicks between you and Megan, though when his eyes land on you, they soften.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, his tone neutral, but his eyes hold a silent reassurance.

Megan stands a little straighter under his scrutiny. She hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with challenging him, but her suspicion remains. “No, Father,” she says finally. “I was simply offering our sister here a reminder of her vows. It’s important we maintain propriety.”

Father Charlie’s expression doesn’t change. “Of course, Sister. We all must uphold our vows. You may return to your duties.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, you think Megan might push further. But then she inclines her head and turns away, her steps sharp and purposeful as she leaves the courtyard. The weight of her presence lingers, like a shadow refusing to lift.

As soon as she’s gone, you exhale, tension slipping from your shoulders. Father Charlie steps closer to you, his voice low and steady. “She grows more suspicious.”

You nod, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The mask you’ve worn for so long feels suffocating now, the weight of expectations unbearable.

Father Charlie’s expression softens, and when he reaches out, his fingers lightly brush your arm. “You’re not alone,” he says, his voice filled with warmth. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

His touch sends a spark through you, and for a moment, the weight of your burdens eases. But as you stand there, alone in the darkness with him, you know that the road ahead will only grow more difficult. Still, with him beside you, it feels less daunting.

You stay silent for a long moment, standing there with Father Charlie. His presence should be enough to calm you, but the weight of your thoughts has become unbearable, pressing down harder than ever before.

“I never wanted this life,” you finally whisper, eyes fixed on the fountain’s surface, the soft ripple of water reflecting the sky. “When I was a little girl, I dreamed of something else.”

Charlie says nothing, letting you speak, his silence a kind of permission.

You take a breath, the memories flooding back. “I used to imagine myself far away from here—away from society, the rules, the eyes always watching. I dreamed of having a family, children running through an open field, laughter filling the air. I wanted to be a mother,” your voice wavers slightly, “to nurture my own, not just serve others.”

The words feel strange as they leave your mouth, like a confession you’ve never dared to speak aloud. Even though you’ve lived in service, dedicating yourself to this life, there’s always been a gnawing ache inside you for something more—something that belonged solely to you.

“I imagined a small cottage,” you continue, your voice growing softer, “with a garden, flowers blooming. Somewhere far from this place, where no one could judge me, where I could be free. I wanted to love, to build a life that was mine.”

Father Charlie shifts closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours, offering silent support.

“But instead… I ended up here.” The words hang in the air, heavy with regret. “I thought I was doing the right thing, choosing this path. I thought it would bring me peace. But it didn’t. It feels like every day, I’m giving up more of myself—burying my real desires so deep I hardly recognize them anymore.”

Your throat tightens as a tear escapes, sliding down your cheek. The picnic earlier flickers in your mind, how for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel happiness. Real happiness. Sitting under the sun with him, laughing, letting your guard down—it had stirred something in you, something real and raw, a glimpse of the life you had always wanted.

“That picnic…” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in so long, I felt alive. I didn’t feel like the person everyone expects me to be. I felt like… me.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he doesn’t pull away when you step closer, his presence like a steadying force. “It’s not wrong to want more,” he says gently. “You deserve to feel whole.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I’ve given up so much already. What’s left of me?”

He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, and in them, you see the same conflict, the same struggle that mirrors your own. “There’s still time,” he says, his words a quiet promise. “There’s still time to find yourself.”

Tears spill freely now, and before you can stop yourself, you collapse into his arms, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the walls around your heart crumble, and you let yourself feel the ache of all you’ve lost—the life you could have had, the dreams that seem so distant now.

“I wanted a family,” you whisper into his shoulder, your voice breaking. “I wanted to be a mother, to love, to be loved. But instead…”

He tightens his arms around you, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are loved. In ways you may not see yet.”

Father Charlie holds you close, his arms steady around you as your tears soak into his robe. The dam has broken, and there’s no holding back the flood of emotions anymore. You cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s crumbling beneath your feet, each sob rising from a place so deep it scares you.

“I thought… I thought if I buried those dreams long enough, they’d go away,” you murmur into his shoulder. “But they haven’t. They’ve only grown louder. I see families, mothers with their children, and it’s like a knife in my heart. I want that—so much it hurts.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his face for understanding. His brow furrows, concern etched into every line. “I feel trapped here,” you continue, voice cracking. “I’ve spent my life giving and giving, but no matter how much I give, I can’t find peace. All I ever wanted was a simple life, with love. But instead, I’m… this.”

Father Charlie’s hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. “You’re not alone in this,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “I see your struggle, and I feel it too. Every day I ask myself if I made the right choice. If this is what my life was meant to be.”

The vulnerability in his words makes your breath hitch. You’ve never heard him speak like this before, never knew he had the same doubts gnawing at him. It’s both terrifying and comforting at once—knowing that even someone like him, someone who always seems so sure, is just as lost as you are.

“I don’t know how to keep pretending,” you admit, your voice a fragile whisper. “That picnic, earlier today… it felt like a glimpse of the life I could’ve had. And for just a moment, I was happy. Truly happy. But then it all came crashing back—the guilt, the expectations. The life I chose. It feels like a prison.”

Father Charlie’s thumb pauses on your cheek, and he lets out a slow breath. “I understand,” he says quietly. “More than you know.”

The air between you feels heavy, thick with unspoken truths and shared pain. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, a longing that mirrors your own, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s wrestling with the same thoughts—if his dreams have also been sacrificed for a life he’s no longer certain of.

“I never thought…,” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. “I never thought I’d feel this way, here of all places.”

His hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Feelings are complicated,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sometimes, we think we’ve made peace with our choices, but deep down, our hearts tell a different story.”

A silence stretches between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. There’s something raw and honest about this moment, like the two of you are finally shedding the masks you’ve been wearing for so long.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice barely audible. “I feel so lost.”

Father Charlie’s gaze softens, and he leans in just slightly, his face close. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he murmurs. “But you don’t have to face this alone.”

The weight of his words settles over you like a blanket, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to carry this burden on your own. Maybe there’s room for something more—something real.

Your heart races in your chest, and you take a shaky breath, eyes locked with his. The closeness between you feels electric, every nerve in your body attuned to his presence, to the quiet intensity in his gaze. It’s dangerous—this connection. You both know it.

But in this moment, it’s all you have.

───

The church bells have just finished ringing, signaling the end of Sunday Mass. You stand outside with Father Charlie, your heart still heavy from the morning’s sermon. The congregation begins to disperse, everyone offering quiet blessings to one another as they leave. You and Father Charlie remain, lingering by the old stone archway. It’s quieter now, the sacred stillness of the church grounds wrapped around you both like a secret.

He turns to you, his gaze soft and familiar, and you can feel the pull between you—stronger now than ever. The unspoken connection that had simmered all week after your vulnerable conversation feels unbearable in its intensity.

“I shouldn’t…” you start, but your words falter as he steps closer, the warmth of his presence radiating into the space between you.

“I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicker from yours to your lips betrays his struggle, mirroring your own.

Before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepens, fueled by the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. The world seems to disappear—just the two of you in a moment stolen from time itself, as your heart pounds wildly in your chest.

The kiss is both a comfort and a confession, a silent surrender to everything you’ve been too afraid to say. You clutch the fabric of his robe, pulling him closer, needing to feel the solidness of him, to anchor yourself in this forbidden moment.

But then, a gasp—a sharp intake of breath that slices through the intimacy like a blade. You break apart, breathless, and turn to see Nun Megan standing at the edge of the churchyard. Her face is a portrait of shock and disbelief, eyes wide, hand clasped over her mouth as though she cannot believe what she’s just witnessed.

Your stomach drops, cold dread flooding your veins.

“Goodness…” she whispers, her voice laced with horror, “what have you done?”

Father Charlie immediately steps back, but the damage is done. The air is charged with accusation, and you can see the betrayal written across her face. The weight of your actions crashes down around you, guilt mixing with panic.

“Megan, it’s not—” Father Charlie begins, but there’s no stopping her now. She turns and rushes back toward the church, her steps frantic as if she’s running to report what she’s seen, to stop the corruption before it spreads further.

You and Father Charlie are left standing in the aftermath, the kiss lingering on your lips, now tainted with the knowledge that everything is about to change.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[catscidr]

// how genshin men would kabedon you //

i. note — im stuck in bed because of cramps help me i wanted to be productive today but i can't Write Good…… so i wrote something self indulgent silly to get my mind off of the pain instead _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ ueue ii. cw — fluff/crack, gn!reader, suggestive if you squint rly hard, you're shorter than them in the third part for convenience's sake, not rly proofread im melting

standard kabedon with one arm ↳ alhaitham, diluc, zhongli ˎˊ˗

immediately understood what you meant when you asked if he could “kabedon” you. he either he read about it somewhere or it’s just something he picked up from overhearing others talk about it in passing— you’d tease him for being “nosy” if you weren’t so flustered at the sight of him looking down at you with such a straight face.

your gaze travels down from his face, to his neck, to his bicep… close to you… and his forearm… that’s even closer to you… you’re so focused on his strong masculine arm that you don’t catch the slight blush tinting his cheeks.

whew. is it just you or is it getting hot in here?

standard kabedon but with both arms ↳ albedo, xiao, lyney ˎˊ˗

he either knew what a kabedon was already or you had to explain it to him and he… misunderstood a little bit.

or maybe he didn’t. maybe it was on purpose. maybe caging you in with both of his arms was what he was planning all along while you sheepishly explained what a kabedon entailed…!

or maybe he doesn’t want to admit that he zoned out while you were talking because all he thought about was how cute you looked, all flushed and embarrassed. yeah. that’s definitely not what happened. of course not

invades your personal space and backs you up into the wall without even using his arms ↳ pantalone, ayato, dottore ˎˊ˗

he pretended not to know what a was kabedon because’s he’s mean. while you tried to explain what it entailed (while sweating nervously from how hard he was staring at you), he slowly closed the distance between the two of you before you realized just how close he was.

he was taller than you, so he had to bend down at the waist to be at eye-level with you… and the action didn’t help your poor little heart. you could smell his cologne and gods did you feel your knees go weak.

but on the bright side, if your legs give out he’ll be close enough to catch you before you bust your head open! such a gentleman

forget using arms, he’ll use his leg to pin you to the wall instead ↳ itto, cyno, childe ˎˊ˗

why be like everyone else when he can show off instead? you think he might have been a bird in another life because this isn’t a kabedon, it has to be some sort of courting ritual or… something.

at least it’s working, though. your face is flushed, you’re holding back a smile and your heart is racing against your ribcage.

the only downside if that your face is buried in your hands; if it wasn’t, you’re sure your curiosity would get the better of you and you’d end up looking. don’t ask where, you know what i mean

….you kabedon him. ↳ wanderer, baizhu, neuvillette, webttore ˎˊ˗

he either straight up refused to do it or was so utterly puzzled by what on earth a “kabedon” even was that you had to show him.

cue a strained gasp, his brows either raised to the heavens or furrowed so hard he would immediately get wrinkles, and a blush that you would never let yourself forget. maybe you should do this more often.

but be careful, he might turn the tables and catch you off guard to kabedon you someday as payback. oh no! terrible, i know

[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

O.

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

Oh

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

[dameronspector]

Joaquin reacts to you wearing a saree for the first time since you two started dating

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Desi!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Reader has long hair- no other physical descriptions other than that, reader is desi

AN: this is completely self indulgent because I’m desi and I need joaquin/danny to compliment me when I wear a saree <3 btw, this is the look inspo . And see if you can guess which Bollywood scene inspired the first look scene w Joaquin 🤪

You were positively freaking out. Why? Well, apart from the fact that this is the first ever family event where you and Joaquin will be attending as a couple, this was also the first time that Joaquin will see you wearing a saree.

You remember when you told him about your cousin’s wedding a month ago and him being the precious man he is, he was so excited. It was adorable.

He was obsessed with the mehendi design on your hands. The day you came back home from the mehendi event, he stopped everything he was doing and just looked at the design. Like he was memorising it. He kept pointing out the little details and helped you apply the lemon water and sugar mixture on it.

“Why do you put this mixture on it, baby?”, he had you curiously. You had told him how the combination helps the mehendi to darken easily.

Then he had asked you why was it important for the mehendi to be dark in colour. “Because it looks beautiful and we believe that if the colour of the mehendi is dark, then the partner of the person who’s applied it truly loves them. We believe that it’s because of the love between the two that helped the mehendi stay fresh and visible for a longer time”.

That got his attention real quick and he applied the mixture on you for the entire day because, “Don’t you worry, angel. It’s going to be so dark, it’ll look like it’s permanent”, he had replied cheekily. You just shook your head and giggled at his antics.

And then you told him you were going to wear a saree and he was even more excited. He has never seen anybody around him wear a saree before but “you’d look so beautiful, angel. I know it”, is what he said.

He was a little nervous about the whole wedding-date situation but bless his outgoing and talkative nature (and the fact that he was born in an ethnic household), he perfectly knew how to handle nosy relatives. Although you did tell him that he didn’t necessarily have to wear Indian ethnic wear because it wasn’t always the most comfortable.

But him being the best boyfriend on this planet, he shook his head quickly and said, “No way. How can I not match you, baby? I’m gonna wear it. Don’t worry about me.” God, he was just the most precious person ever.

So you went shopping for him and got him a blush pink kurta that would match your saree, beige coloured pants and a blush pink nehru jacket with floral details on it.

He tried it.

And you damn near went down on one knee because oh my god the outfit brought out his gorgeous brown eyes and his beautiful dark curls. He saw the way you stared him and ran your eyes throughout his body. He actually blushed. “Babe, stop. You’re staring..” he trailed off shyly. You just kissed him sweetly in front of the entire store.

He was feeling a little awkward because he’s never worn something like this before. So you reassured him and told him he can remove the jacket anytime.

Now that his part was done, you’d decided to keep your look a secret. Which was a terrible idea because your boyfriend had the patience of a 5 year old.

“Angel, please. Can I, atleast, see how it looks like? Please”, he pulled out the puppy dog eyes and everything to convince you. But you politely declined his request everytime.

Today was the day.

Joaquin was already ready and he was (impatiently) waiting for you downstairs. He looked so good. You would have to try so hard to keep your hands to yourself and not embarrass yourself in front of the aunties. You were thinking you’d put a nazar ka teeka on him to protect him from all the said aunties, as well. Desi weddings and families were a Lot.

You were putting the final touch to the look- a bindi in the middle of your eyebrows. The front of your hair was pulled back and the rest cascaded down your back in soft curls. Your curtain bangs were curled by your temple. You had done a soft pink makeup look to match the overall aesthetic of the outfit.

The saree was ethereal- it was an iridescent, blush pink, tissue silk saree with pearls, gold and diamonds lining the border. Your blouse was embroidered in gold and light shades of pink with tiny gem stone flowers on it. It was sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline.

For your jewellery, you wore a dainty choker, with pastel pink water drop jewels and emerald green stones with diamond encrusted flowers. You paired it with matching earrings. You were wearing diamond and gold plated bangles on your hands.

You really loved how this whole look turned out to be.

Now, the big reveal.

You nervously descended down the staircase and saw Joaquin sitting on the sofa’s arm. His leg was bouncing up and down out of impatience and he was aimlessly scrolling through his phone.

You quietly reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the living room. You cleared your throat.

Various things happened at the same time.

Joaquin’s head snapped up. His eyes widened. His mouth fell open. He completely stopped breathing. And he almost dropped his phone.

You giggled at his reaction.

“You good, ‘Quino?”, you asked shyly while playing with your fingers.

He didn’t say a word for a good 15 seconds. Just kept opening and closing his mouth.

Then he slowly got up from the sofa before throwing his phone on it. He made his way over to you.

You took your time to look him over, too.

He looked so handsome in that outfit you almost wanted to keep him at home with you. He had set his luscious curls with gel to keep them out of his eyes. Upon your request, he was also wearing his golden hoop earring and his dainty gold bracelets. He looked like the prince he is.

You were so lost in checking him out that you didn’t notice him standing behind you. You turned your neck sideways to look at him. He looked at you in awe. You felt your face heat up with a strong blush.

He started circling you and looking at you intensely. His eyes were shining with adoration and pure love for you.

“Joaquin….say something, please”, you requested in a weak voice, looking at him move around you like you were an art piece in a museum.

He finally stopped and stood in front of you.

He gently picked up your hands and held them in his, running his thumbs across the back of your hands softly.

“Angel….you- oh my god”, he chuckled nervously and ducked his head.

Was he…blushing?

He looked up at you and took you in hungrily. Like he’s a man in the middle of a desert looking for an oasis.

His cheeks kept getting more and more pink and he broke out in his million dollar smile. He took a deep breath in before letting it all out.

“Baby. You look like a goddess. Wow. I can’t believe you’re real. And how are you with me? I can’t believe you’re my girl…I can’t believe you even gave me a chance. You- holy shit. This saree looks breathtaking on you…You look breathtaking. I’m so lucky….wow”, he finished and let out a content sigh.

By the time he finished his little speech, your face was beet-red and you pursed your lips to stop the school-girl giggle from slipping out.

“Shut up, Joaquin”, you murmured and turned your head to the side to avoid his intense stare.

He was having none of that so he brought one of his hands up and cupped your chin, bringing your attention back on him.

“No, no. Hey, look at me. Let me see your beautiful face”, he said in the most delicate way possible.

You reluctantly looked up and stared at his angelic face. God, you were so lucky to call this beautiful man yours.

Joaquin released your chin to cup your cheeks and gently caressed the apple of your cheeks.

“Do we have to go? I can’t have everyone looking at you. Might have to put a nay- naa- what’s that called-” he furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Nazar ka teeka?”, you asked chuckling.

“Yes! That! Might have to put that on you. My angel needs to be protected, yeah?”, he cheekily responded.

You blushed and giggled.

“You’re so cheesy, Joaquin”, you said while pushing his shoulder.

That brought out a big laugh from him and he couldn’t resist any longer from kissing you.

He leaned in to kiss you but paused mid-way.

You scrunched your face in confusion.

“Don’t wanna mess your make-up, baby. I’ll just-”he said before laying the sweetest, gentlest and lightest kiss on your lips. “there.”

Before you could respond, he moved to kiss your forehead, your nose, both of your cheeks and pressed a small kiss by the corner of your mouth.

You let out giggles and scrunched up your nose in return.

It was going to be so difficult to be normal at the wedding.

-

AN: can Joaquin act smitten w me when i wear a saree plz

[kikisoda]

𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

[ streamer!gn!reader ] in which you ease your audience to the reveal of your boyfriend kyle broflovski x reader wc: 2238

AN: this is a rewrite from my old account cocogrrrl hehe u_u note the usage of yn and photos used to depict yn are feminine, but its written with the intention of being for a gn!reader

“Kyle, love, is it okay if I post you?” 

You look over to your boyfriend, who was buried in coursework. He wrote something before returning your look, answering a few seconds later.

“Baby, we’ve gone over this multiple times, and I really don’t mind.”

“Might cause a stir.” You shrug.

“Yeah, but I know how much you wanna post that photo.” 

A click of your tongue gives you away—busted. “You’re sure?” you ask, flashing a big, unapologetic dorky grin.

He hums, pretending to mull it over before nodding. "Yes."

“Alright, thank you!” One kiss on the cheek and you’re back to setting. You grin, giving him a kiss on the cheek before reaching for your phone.

Liked by k.broflovski, 4ui13.co, and 64,394 others

helloyn surface must be frictionless the way im always in motion

ㅤㅤㅤ↳ csvismz looks like i got competition. whoever u are sleep with one eye open.

ㅤㅤㅤ↳ ppp0ppy must’ve been the wind…

ㅤㅤㅤ↳ DehydrationCeo idgaf abt the man where did u get that top from ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ↳ 4ui13.co @DehydrationCeo RIGHT

Hgloss donated $5: that’s a paid actor yn and you know it

“I’m sorry? Who are you calling a paid actor?” A laugh escapes as you tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What are you guys talking about?”

Scanning over the chat, you’re immediately caught by how polarizing the reactions were. Some continued to convince themselves and them that Kyle wasn’t real and that he was paid, but others were just outright asking to see him. 

A quiet hum leaves your lips as you scroll. Might be time to ask Kyle if he’d want to pop in on stream sometime.

Wartortle donated $4.69!: being an active yn dono means having to do charity work

You scoff, jokingly. Still, you try to pass it off as offended. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know that my bag is crazy heavy and that I don’t need your charity. Am I renting out a small, studio apartment in Denver? Yeah, but that means I’m just saving up..”

cocogrrrl: “saving money” framed photo of a chicken jockey in the back 💔

“Oh, so now I can’t appreciate artistry? Is that what you guys are saying?” You pout. “That isn’t even like 15 dollars, I don’t get what you guys are so worked up about.”

You continue the stream as per usual, eyeing the jabs at you that your chat was making, coming back at them like you don’t know anything about a boyfriend.

You do crack after a while, though. You pay them some heed, just to indulge them a little further, just because it’s nice to talk about something personal for once. Not necessarily outright giving details as to who Kyle is, but just acknowledging that he’s real to your audience. It feels good, oddly grounding, to open up about something personal for once—something that’s just yours.

Then, an uncomfortable feeling settled at the bottom of your stomach. Kyle was probably watching this. That nosy little menace. You know he is, it’s your first stream since establishing that you had a partner.

Ding!

Your phone on the table vibrates, and your head whips to see what it is. Haha. Lo and behold. Kyle.

Kyle 💚: :)

Bleh. Cheeky. Burn.

Being perceived by tens and thousands of people is fine; hell, you do it on a regular basis, but it’s different when it’s him. You’ve seen each other’s worst, but there’s this line of embarrassment that’s being crossed when he’s actively perceiving you gushing about him. You feel like a middle-schooler talking about their crush, not knowing they’re walking right past you.

“You were good earlier, don’t worry,” Kyle assures, but with an obvious amusement at your embarrassment.

Covering your face with your arms, you shake your head. “No, it’s not like that… It’s like fuel for you to tease me.”

“You know I wouldn’t make fun of you for that.”

“...You’re right.” You sigh, letting your arms down. 

He hums, massaging your shoulders to rid you of at least a little tension. “I think you’re really funny.”

“I know.”

“No, like,” Alright, thanks. “We talked about this ages ago, and now you’re just dropping the news?”

“Well, it’s better safe than sorry.”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “You’re very thoughtful.”

There’s a small pause that makes you look back at Kyle. You look at Kyle, his face blank to the naked eye but clearly discernible to you. There’s a way he holds his breath that lets you know he has something else to tell you, just unsure if the timing is right or even if what he has to say makes sense.

“What’s on your mind?” You speak up.

There’s just no getting past you; you read on him. He pauses, opening his mouth but not yet speaking, just to choose his words. “...Well, they don’t know know me. I’m just wondering how far you can push it.”

And so, for the next few weeks, you kept the mystery alive—radio silence, playful denials, and the occasional shameless hint, at least from your audience’s point of view. Sometimes you’d insist he’s real, dropping bold claims like, “He’s real, I swear,” or calling him “definitely not an edited-in image of some random guy.” Totally convincing.

It’s fun seeing Kyle be conniving and scheming with you. It happens often, for sure, you guys love to play small jokes on your friends, but on this scale? It was exciting. Harmless, you know that, and for the most part, you have the upper hand in the situation. It’s like wagging a bone in front of a puppy.

Weeks passed, and the “paid actor” jokes didn’t stop. It almost became a ritual—deny, hint, deflect. But today? Today, you decided that you were going to give them what they wanted. Sort of.

“I’m gonna hop on later, I’ll just be reacting to some stuff,” you hum, resting your head on Kyle’s shoulder. “Are you gonna hang out there later?”

“Sure, I shouldn’t be busy later anyway.”

“Perfect, I need you to do something.”

A few hours later, you start to feel your mind melting because of the content being shared right before you (Courtesy of media sharing and courtesy of your mods). What the fuck is tralalero tralala and tung tung tung sahur? It’s not vile, not at face value, but you figure you’re probably too old to understand what exactly is so funny with those videos.

“Mods, give me a minute. What the fuck was that,” you sigh, having just seen a video explaining the complete lore of Tim Cheese? A mafia member who supposedly killed John Pork? What? 

Jo315: unc

kenni: unc

baseketballluv: unc

Gorrillass: unc

“Guys, I’m not that old.” You quickly shut them down. “Like, tops, I’m sure I’m less than 10 years older than you.”

kenni: “less than 10 years older than you” 💀💀💀

pennypark: unc

“Thanks. You’re all so nice to me, I can’t ask for a better community.” 

At that exact moment, you hear a soft knock on your door. You know who it is. It can’t possibly be anyone else.

“Come in!” You call out. To the audience, the exhaustion on your face was immediately wiped off. They can only really assume who it is.

The door opens, and you greet Kyle with a wave and a “Hi, love.”

“Hi.” He waves back and finds himself a seat across your streaming setup.

EmoPirate: oh my god get a room

You laugh, reading over the chat. Some, like EmoPirate, were repulsed by your affection, and some (again) accuse you of hiring an actor and setting them up. Regardless, you continue telling them that your mystery boyfriend is very much real.

Kyle muses around with your chat’s reaction and your subsequent reaction. “How’s it going?” He pushes a little more, just to prove his existence to the audience.

You sigh, laughing at the ongoing antics. “They are literally never satisfied.”

A month or two later, you find yourself promptly setting up your camera, testing your mic, and all that jazz as you wait for your fans to come in, with Kyle sitting beside you the whole time.

“Okay, but when do we go live?” He asks, curiously watching you work. 

“Right about now—give me a title for the stream.”

“I mean, I can’t think of anything more creative than ‘Boyfriend reveal! Real!’”

“‘Boyfriend reveal, real,’ it shall be, then.” You hum, typing in the title and hitting the button. You were now on air, though your camera and mic were still blocked off.

You and Kyle sat around for a few minutes, waiting for the audience to pour in. In the meantime, you got your phone out and a took a shot of you and Kyle’s eyes, announcing the impromptu stream.

He reads a few of the comments, most of them in disbelief. With how long you guys have been playing this up for, it’s probably just a forever mystery to them. He finds them pretty entertaining, so he spends the time reading over them.

“No going back now,” you mindlessly say, replying to a few messages on your phone.

“I know what I was signed up for.”

You set your phone aside and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at you, locking hands with you under the table.

You give him a peck on the lips, immediately redirecting your focus to the screen after. “Good, have fun.” You finally turned on your camera and microphone, adjusting them to capture the both of you better.

“Hey!” you smile. “What’s up? How are all of you guys?” You greet, holding in a laugh as you just watch the chat explode.

4ui13.co: I SHOULD BE THE ONE BESIDE YOU

pennypark: okay hello beautiful couple warning btw

Strawbear3: you guys are so cute! :’(

“This is Kyle. He’s my boyfriend.” You hook him by the neck and bring him closer to you. “You guys happy now? This is the elusive Kyle. Yes, he’s real. No, he’s not someone I’m blackmailing.”

“Hello,” he waved rather meekly.

Hgloss: ok man how much was the acting job i’ll match what yn paid

broncos4ever: cute

ElderMcKinley he’s OUR boyfriend now 

A few minutes pass by. You entertain the chat, and they ask questions and whatnot. It’s fun. You glance at Kyle every so often to gauge how well he’s holding up. To a small surprise, he was enjoying himself. Hell, you think you could just let him maintain the stream himself.

“Alright, alright,” you drag a hand through your hair, taking a sip of your water. “You’ve seen him, you’ve got to talk to him a little, our interrogation session begins now.”

He raises a brow. “Interrogation?”

“Yeah.” You flash a smile, patting his back.

“What should we answer?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” he scans over the comments. “Someone asked how long we've been together—like, over a year now.”

“Yeah, the initial photo of us I posted that sparked all this was, like, a week or two before our anniversary.” You nodded, leaning into Kyle as you swayed your hands holding under the table. “Here’s one: how did you guys meet?”

“We met through mutual friends. Our best friends are dating, and they just wondered what would happen if they set us up.”

“We didn’t get along right off the bat, I was pretty awkward, especially since Kyle had been friends with the couple since they were kids,” you awkwardly laughed. “But we got to know each other a lot better when I invited him to watch the Cure live with me.”

“Dude, that concert was kind of crazy. I had been a huge fan of them for a few years already when I went to see them, but they were out there playing songs that I’ve never heard of.”

“Right? Hearing Lovesong live is a core memory of mine, though.”

“For sure.”

You two sat there for a good while, going back and forth with questions and sharing details of your relationship.

“Oh, here’s one from Sydney, uhh,…numbers, numbers, numbers: how much is rent in Colorado? Surely, bills aren’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay,-”

“Good question, Sydney, they usually—”

“Oh, my god,” you jokingly groaned, cutting him off. He clicked his tongue and laughed along with you.

“So how are you liking them so far?” You whispered in his ear, bringing your mic farther away from you two.

“Overwhelming, but definitely fun.” He murmured back.

“Yeah, that’s what you said to Stan after our first date, right?” You laughed, your voice a little louder now but still mostly indiscernible to your viewers.

“My god,” he rolled his eyes, moving his hand to your scalp to mess it up.

“You aren’t denying it, though!” Your voice was now booming; your audience could definitely hear you now. 

“I’m not confirming or denying anything!” He laughed.

“Uhuh,” you sarcastically replied, nodding as you leaned into him briefly to give him a kiss on the lips. “Totally.”

Your chat was now exploding.

mattstonestoes: PDA WTF

csvismz: theyre so cute i 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶

kenni: STAGED

gorrilass: get that shit away from me 

ppp0ppy: this is not for the eyes of god!!!!!!

lkkopi: GAY

jb.e3: STAGED

dennysofficial: MY OTP ☹️☹️

“You guys are so disgusted, but this isn’t even a fraction of a fraction of the things I do to your moms on a regular basis.” You sigh, earning a laugh and a punch in the arm from Kyle.

divider

[amberjazmyn]

decade 💔🥹

pairing : f1 grid x driver!reader

summary :  aston martin driver elouisa holland is great at keeping her composure in front of the judgemental and ruthless eyes of the formula 1 media circus. that is until she gets asked about why she only has her mum and siblings at her races but not her dad even though everytime she did speak about her dad, it was positive. those who knew why her dad wasn't present at races were worried for how elouisa would respond until the room fell silent when she explained since they clearly couldn't understand or recognise the tense in which she spoke about him. 

warnings : mention of parental death, dark humour, f1 grid press conference, driver x female!reader, platonic x f1 grid, driver reader x max verstappen

a/n :  i have to admit, this was slightly self-indulgent because, fyi, my own father died a decade ago this year and this is exactly what i feel like i'd respond with if someone asked me where my dad was if i talked about him in such a positive light and them not recognising the tense in which i spoke about him. and, also, yes, i have elouisa as an aston martin driver because, no hate but, i'm not the biggest fan of lance stroll so he's just not part of the grid and elouisa is instead but all the other drivers are still in the grid though with a special guest appearance of sebastian vettel. 

it wasn't a shock to find out that the media circus involved with formula one was invasive and sometimes brutal. asking questions that people would think would be off-limits from asking however, within f1, no question was off-limits since there were no secrets within the sport. not even questions about personal matters like their families or their love lives since majority of the drivers had relationships that whilst weren't technically secret but on the private side and other personal matters in their life were safe from media scrutiny. things that didn't even relate to being a formula one driver would be asked instead of the more important questions like how they felt about their car or how the race itself went. and of course, because of these nosy reporters who always wanted clicks and the best and juciest headlines, all the drivers on the f1 grid was put through some form of pr media training so they'd always have the perfect response that would also still give them some privacy as well as preparing them for the harshest of harsh questions without lashing out and gracefully rerouting the conversation back to the original topic of racing. so, if they were responding to a question that was quite invasive and teetered on the line of a privacy violation, they didn't give too much away and they weren't giving the reporter the exact response that they so desperately wanted. and, most of the times, it worked perfectly and the drivers hadn't had their whole lives being plastered over the internet. however, for the first time, elouisa holland's pr training did not come and save her because no matter how hard she tried giving the intrusive reporter her pr media trained responses, he still wasn't satisfied and kept on pressing her for a better answer then the one he had been given. 

so, because of that, she decided to tell the truth and it was a hard truth that would also make many people uncomfortable but, elouisa had been pushed too hard and too far and unfortunately, it was with the entire f1 grid around her alongside the nosy reporters. who most of them already knew the unfortunate reason why her dad wasn't seen around the paddock during grand prixs and why whilst she always spoke lovingly of her dad, she always spoke about him in the past tense. and that was because elouisa's dad died when she was only eleven years old when she was still karting alongside some of those who she now shares the f1 grid with. 

however, that's not how the press conference started. it had actually started as an amazing group interview with all of the drivers, all twenty of them, all bunched up together on the teeny tiny couch. all of them giggling and making jokes with one another and the interviewers and the moderator. elouisa was sat in the middle of red bull's max verstappen and ferrari's carlos sainz jr, verstappen on her right and sainz jr to her left. the three of them were giggling amongst each other and it was during that moment of the three of them giggling that the invasive interviewer, a man who was like at least a couple decades older than elouisa, asked her the one question she had always managed to skirt around giving a proper answer and avoid. 

however, the moment her head looked away from max and carlos and over at the interviewer, it was as though she already knew what question he would be asking. and that was before she had even lifted her head up and before he had even opened his mouth to say anything. 

"you always speak about your dad in such a positive light but we never see him around the paddock or at any of the grand prixs. if he's so great and so loved by you, then why doesn't he make any effort in supporting his daughter in a sport that for so many years, was male dominated and still is considered to be. as the only female driver on the grid, it has to upset you that majority of the drivers have their entire family with them to support them but you don't. especially with the consideration that you are actually quite a talented driver and really getting up there in the status of a legend. but, this is something you always avoid and never answer properly so why are you always talking so happily about your dad but when you get asked why he's never here to watch you drive, you always avoid and deflect, why is that?" elouisa should have prepared herself better but, she genuinely thought reporters were getting bored of asking this question because of the fact she always avoided it

however, this crusty old man was persistent and it seemed as though by his stance and the look on his face, that he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he desired. but, of course, elouisa wasn't going to back down either so, she started to respond with the same old, media trained answers that she had always used every single time. 

"my dad and the reason why he doesn't turn up to races has no connection to where i am now as a formula one driver. this isn't a question you would ask to someone like max or to charles so why am i the only one being questioned on this topic other than the obvious that i'm a female and they're men? if you have a better question that is actually in relation to this weekend's grand prix, i will happily answer it but, any other non-related grand prix questions, will be ignored, thank you..." elouisa trailed off, placing the microphone in her hand back into her lap as she smiled over at max who gave her a worried look

elouisa knew that the guy was going to keep on trying, it was obvious. however, she didn't want anyone to notice just how bothered she got when people constantly asked about her father and why he was always mentioned but never seen. 

like mentioned before, she was eleven when her father died. and for the longest time, after the death of her father, it was as though her life went by ever so slowly. she wasn't sure how she was still alive because she never really remembered much from ages eleven to eighteen since those years just culminated together all into one. of course, she liked to say that she was the happiest she had ever been from her formula 2 days in 2020 and onwards but, everyone knew she was still struggling deep down. since the loss of her father, she developed an anxiety disorder that was then rediagnosed as ptsd since panic attacks would always strike the australian girl at the worst and most inconvient of times. however, they never bothered her when she was racing or in interviews which she always thought was suspicious considering just how much more dangerous formula one racing was then anything else that she had going on in her life. at eighteen, she made her formula one debut with torro rosso even though it was only just for that debuting performance. after debuting with torro rosso, she moved to renault and then alfa romeo within the same year since the two teams fought over her, spending one half of the year with renault and then the other with alfa romeo. then, aston martin contacted her for a multi-year contract which she couldn't turn down as they had been renamed and brought back after changing their name from racing point to aston martin. and because they knew alfa romeo were never going to keep her for longer than the second half of her rookie season. and in late 2021, elouisa would be the number one driver of aston martin alongside fernando alonso. 

even though elouisa seemed to smile a lot in regards to talking about her dad, it always killed her a little inside because she always spoke about him in the past tense, reminding her of that solemn fact that, her dad was truly never going to come back. no matter how many times she wanted to forget or pretend that his death was just a mean prank that went too far. of course she did. how else would she talk about her dad who was no longer walking the earth anymore? besides, it had accidentally become a habit that she never wanted to get into in the first place. of course she wished her dad was still alive. it was the same for her best friend, charles leclerc, who drove for ferrari. his dad had also passed away but charles was a lot older, he was nineteen and a year away from getting his formula one contract. so he knew the very pain that elouisa went through every single day when she would look and see the other drivers have both of their parents be present for them at every race. it was something she had always longed for and even sometimes loathed her mum for. she had always wanted her mum to fall in love again and when she didn't, it made her slightly hate her mum for not wanting to try to love someone new again just because she was afraid of the same thing happening again. it hurt elouisa to see her mum just blantly ignore her children when they begged and cried out for more than just their mum. only their youngest brother a mummy's boy. the rest of the siblings obsessed with their dad which caused four of the five siblings way more grief from the loss. 

it brought a painful ache into elouisa's heart every single time she remembered the words she said moments after the death of her dad had been announced. the first thing that fell out of little eleven year old elouisa's mouth was 'when am i getting a new dad?'. and even though she was now twenty-one, it was still something that haunted her every waking hour knowing that those were the first words that came out of her mouth. she was eleven, not a baby, yet she was still so clueless about death being final. that death meant the person wasn't going to come back. and now that she was older, she understood why little eleven year old elouisa said what she said. she said those words because she never wanted to be living a life without a father in her life. whether that was her biological father or a father that stepped up and fell in love with her mum and her five children. 

however, that never happened. elouisa's mum never fell in love and it was still something that elouisa would pick fights with her mum about. calling her mum selfish because she's too scared to fall in love again. reminding her that she can't stay miserable forever and that it's not a crime to try again and give her family the stability that they've been missing for the last decade. 

blinking back the cruel truth of elouisa's life, she was pulled back into the press conference as the intrusive interviewer asked her the question again, "i'll ask you again, why are you always avoiding questions that involve your father's obnoxious absences from the races? if a father loved his daughter so much, he wouldn't be avoiding all of her races so where is your father and why are you avoiding answering questions about his whereabouts?" the interviewer asked sharply, waiting for the moment elouisa would crack under the pressure he put her under 

everyone just watching in wait. the drivers beside her all holding their breath as they never truly knew how elouisa would respond or react when asked about her dad. whether she'd laugh hysterically and insert dark humour jokes, in a bid to cover up her uncomfortability. whether she'd cry because it was a day in which she really missed her dad. or if she'd just be nonchalant and continue to ignore the interviewer. however, this time, it was clear that elouisa was equipped with the perfect answer. the answer that no one was ready for because of how brutally honest and uncomfortable it was. 

giggling under her breath, it seemed to excite elouisa that she could finally throw away all of her pr media training and just make this absolute asshole of an interviewer uncomfortable, "sir, i have a question for you, do you have a dad?" elouisa starts as the interviewer is shocked at getting questioned himself but he quickly recovers and nods his head 

"yes, i do, elouisa, why?" the interviewer questioned as elouisa smirked, her plan was working as the drivers looked at her slightly worried - max holding her hand moreso for his own comfort than hers 

"well, when you talk about your dad, which tense do you talk about him in? present or past?" elouisa questions as the interviewer was still confused but not those around him as they all went into a solemn silence 

"present? i don't know, why are you asking?" he huffed, his arms crossed over like a child as elouisa giggled once again as she shook her head 

"okay, good to know your dad is still alive and kicking, sir. i say that because, if any of you interviewers really did your job and did it well enough, you would have picked up on the tense in which i use to speak about my dad..." elouisa trailed off, her head turned to the side as the other interviewers bit their lips in a bid to not make any noises of shock as they finally realised the way in which she spoke about her dad when she did talk about him 

however, this stupid man didn't. he didn't make the connection because it was always this one interviewer that always asked and asked and prodded but never actually paid attention to what was being said and how it was being said. he only cared about his intrusivity being listened to and responded to so he could get the content and reactions he needed for his big stories. 

"...okay, and? what's the tense in which you speak about your father got to do with this question that you always avoid?" the interviewer questioned in slight stupidity as elouisa sighed, her eyes rolling as she reaised she really would have to spell it out for him 

"fuck me...sir, if you were slightly smarter and actually paid attention to the things i post on social media on days like birthdays and annviersaries and why i never respond to your abhorrent questions, as well as paid attention to anything that is seen on my racing helmets, you would know that my dad has been dead for an entire decade...that's why no one in this interview pen has seen my dad except for the other current and former drivers on the grid because when i was eleven, i was still in karting. at eleven, i hadn't even realised that i wanted to reach formula 1 let alone any of the others. if you paid enough attention instead of focusing on the disgusting and intrusive questions to write your big story about, you would be knowledgeable in the news that my dad's dead, mate. like, he's dead dead. like he's so dead that i don't even think i can remember what he sounds like anymore..." elouisa trailed off as the entire press conference fell silent except for some of elouisa's giggles and the clicks of cameras and the one filming the press conference live 

after finally getting the response that the interviewer so desperately needed, he gulped back in embarrassment. his entire face went red and his mouth fell into a straight line as though someone had zipped it shut. he didn't know how to respond and elouisa found it hilarious. she loved when she shut down the ignorant and intrusive reporters because they always reacted the same exact way that this interviewer was reacting. but, it didn't take long before the interviewer then started to try and save his arse. 

"...i...i'm so sorry. i...i didn't know that your dad..." he stammered as elouisa held her hand up, making him stop talking and he did, however it was max's voice that spoke up next, not elouisa's

"...cut the crap, mate. it's obvious you're not truly sorry because if you were, you would have stopped intruding the first time elouisa avoiding responding to your inflammatory questions! if you were that good of an interviewer as you boast to be, you would know that constant nagging isn't going to get you the answer you long for, it's going to end in the same way this press conference has ended. with a driver being pushed to their limit and giving the truth that you so wish for in the most uncomfortable and confronting way possible because you just couldn't stop prodding and poking for a response. but, well done anyway i guess, cause you got what you wished for, right? you now know why elouisa's dad isn't seen around the paddock even though elouisa still talks about him," max was not playing around, he was furious as were the rest of the drivers on the grid but, no one could see the steam that was billowing from the ears of newly retired f1 racer, sebastian vettel 

sebastian had retired but he was still as ever present around the paddock when he was able to be. and at this grand prix, he just happened to be watching the press conference from the very back with nico rosberg, former f1 driver now journalist and they, nico and sebastian, were pissed. the both of them had seen elouisa holland grow up and see how she went through her life without her father present and how it devastated her. how the grief was always ever present around her when she did everything. if these pesty journalists actually did their jobs and paid more attention to things, they would have seen the very clear memorial that the aussie girl has in honour of her father on her helmet in the same way carlos has maria di villota's red star on the back of every one of his helmets or the way charles always pays tribute to his father and godfather, jules bianchi. if they had just noticed these things, they wouldn't have needed to ask these questions but, they probably still would have because they loved to prod and try to break down the only female on the grid to test just how mentally strong she was up against the male drivers. they always did it on purpose because they wanted to prove that girls shouldn't be allowed in formula one and elouisa was their scapegoat every single time. however, this time, elouisa knew what they tried to do and she wasn't going to allow them this time. 

and that made both sebastian and nico proud of their girl. it made the entire grid proud of their girl. they knew from the beginning that elouisa was not the person to mess with but, people still tried yet, as the saying goes, you fuck around and you find out. and this time, this particular journalist did just that. he fucked around and he found out and he wished he never fucked around. and since max let the interviewer have it, it seemed as though he, elouisa and the rest of the drivers were no longer interested in finishing the press conference so they all stood up and, in solidarity for their fellow driver, they all walked out of the press conference. leaving the poor moderator, who was the sweetest guy in the world, all on his own in a room filled with reporters, having no clue what to do since this was being filmed live with no way of editing or cutting anything out. unless the camerman just decided to cut the cameras entirely before moving onto the rest of the grand prix weekend. which, is what the camerman decided to do anyway. the press conference had begun to drag a little too long and it was no longer the light, fun and easy-going press conference that it had started out as. 

as the drivers left the press conference, a breath of air just seemed to evaporate around them. what were they meant to do now? they couldn't remember what was next on the agenda. then, out of nowhere, elouisa bursts into incontrollable giggles. and, this of course, confused the others because how on earth was what just happened that funny? but, they knew not to question her so they also started giggling and the awkwardness just went away. 

finally, elouisa calmed down as she rested against max, "...mate, the look on that old dude's face when i told him that my dad was dead dead was hilarious!" elouisa sighed with the biggest smile on her face - the purest of trauma responses as the other drivers looked at her 

"it for sure stumped him from saying anything else, that's for sure!" lewis chuckled softly as he shook his head as elouisa nodded her head 

"it was supposed to! i said it for that exact reason! i wasn't going to sugarcoat it since it wasn't the first time old mate was begging for my response and he finally got it!" elouisa shrugged her shoulders as max sighed and pulled her closer to him 

"and that's why i love you, elouisa!" max hums with content as elouisa doesn't fight against max's embrace but embraces it and moves closer to him 

"why thank you, maxie! at least someone's not afraid to say it!" elouisa giggles before she stops as she feels the way the looks of the others change from the momentary joy back to sympathy 

elouisa wasn't normally one to get upset over her dad. because, right from the get go, she would always talk about him and she would be able to do that without crying. it was something that actually confused many people because they couldn't believe just how poised she was when she'd talk about her beloved dad so quickly after his devastating loss. how could she not? her dad was her hero, the reason why she even got into motorsport and why she was now a formula one driver even though he would never live long enough to see it. he still had the belief in his daughter that she could make it. that was why she had made it clear that her entire racing career with formula one would be dedicated to her father. but, when it did get quiet within her head and she did get upset about her dad, she knew she could go to any of the other guys in the grid and they'd be there for her to hold her as she fell. 

that was when the very distinct memory of driving on the anniversary of her dad's death and winning popped into her head. 

ʚ✩ɞ

"...elouisa, i don't want to freak you out considering today's already been an emotional day but, with ten laps left, you are in the lead. max is a whole lap behind you with carlos. fernando is near the back with valtteri and logan. so, you just keep on pushing, okay baby? you keep on going and you get that win, alright?" elouisa's radio engineer's voice crackles as elouisa's breath gets shaky 

"thank you! i'm pushing now!" elouisa breathes out before a quick "over" is heard and it's once again quiet between elouisa and her radio engineer 

it was the italian grand prix. not only the home race of ferrari but also the home race of elouisa holland who is an australian-italian f1 driver for aston martin, born and raised in australia to italian parents which meant that she could claim both the australian grand prix and all the italian grand prixs as home races. and, that's what she did. however, this time, this italian grand prix in monza was the most important home race for elouisa. it was the first time that she was in the clear running for a podium finish. but, not just any podium finish but a win. so, that's what elouisa and her team at aston martin were vying for at this italian grand prix. and right now, without even realising it, since she had been swamped by grief and agony of the memory of it being the tragic passing of her father, elouisa was inching closer and closer to getting her first ever italian grand prix win at monza.

elouisa doesn't really realise what's going on because she's so dazed and taken out of the joyus moment but, she knows somewhere deep down inside of her that she's finally snagged a win at one of her home races. celebrating with her radio engineer was supposed to be joyful but it was as though she wasn't even in her body. it was as though she was having an outer body experience and watching it happen. she hadn't even realised that she had driven her car into the parc ferme and in front of the p1 placard. so, it took max, who grasped second place and carlos in third place to help her out of the car and take her helmet off that she started to come to again.

"...elouisa! you did it, you won!" max smiled, his helmet also off as his hands squeeze the girl's cheeks as she looks at him with bulging wide eyes in shock 

"what? no...no i didn't!" elouisa stammered, she was sure max at some point had overtaken her but when she turned to look at carlos, he shook his head, also smiling wide as he joined max 

"yes, you did, hermana sister!" carlos rubbed elouisa's back as tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't understand why or how she had even won a race on a day as agonising and grevious as the annviersary of the death of her beloved dad

"then why don't i feel happy or excited?" elouisa's voice cracked as max and carlos remembered, their eyes sullen 

they hadn't forgotten what this day was or the feelings it brought up for their best friend. how could they forget? they grew up with elouisa and her family. of course, they were on the older side of the grid but, they still grew up with elouisa in the same way they grew up in similar circles to the rest of the drivers on the grid. so, they knew and remembered the exact time on this specific day that they got the news that elouisa's dad had died. it was devastating for all of those in the karting and motorsport world because elouisa's dad was well-known and very well loved. and because he was so involved with it, it had come as a huge shock that the news had come out during a karting championship that elouisa was actually participating in alongside george russell, alex albon and oscar piastri. and, exactly like today, on the anniversary of her dad's death, on the day that it was announced her dad had died, she had also won that karting championship, having no knowledge that at home, her mum was grieving over the loss of her husband and the father of her five children who were all at the karting championship for elouisa. 

maybe that was why whenever elouisa won on days like anniversaries and the birthday of her dad, it never felt happy or exciting. it always had a tinge of sadness because it was another win that he would never get to witness and be apart of. nor was it a trophy that he would be able to  see. so, getting this win at monza was equally amazing for elouisa and aston martin but it was also agonising that it was yet another win that would never be seen and celebrated by and with her dad. maybe that was why her mum had slowly started to stop from coming to races. she couldn't bear to see her little girl on that podium, winning races, without seeing both of her parents there watching. max and carlos could see that the grieving girl was ever so slightly starting to breakdown and they hated it so, they didn't hesitate. pulling her in for a hug, they pulled her closely and held her tightly. the formula one commentators mentioning just how sweet it was that even though they were rivals on track, as soon as they got out of their cars, they were best friends and were there to take care of one another. they also hadn't forgotten what day it was that the italian grand prix managed to fall on this year so, they couldn't do anything else but pay their respects and send their love to elouisa and the rest of the holland family.

  ʚ✩ɞ

"...hey, you okay, schat darling? you went off somewhere, you back with us now?" max giggles softly as elouisa blinks, looking max in the eyes and nodded her head 

"yeah...yeah, i'm fine, sorry. yeah, i was in fairyland for a little bit. i'm sorry, what were we taking about?" elouisa mumbled as she leaned further into max's protective hold as max smiled 

"don't apologise. and whatever we were talking about before doesn't matter anymore, what was going on inside your head? where did you travel off too?" max's voice softened as he got the two of them to sit down on the couch, the other drivers following suite as elouisa scoffed softly 

"my first win at monza...on dad's anniversary..." elouisa trailed off as max nodded his head, the other drivers smiling softly, understanding how agonising that was for her 

"...why's that schat?" max wondered, he remembers that day like it was yesterday and it haunted him at how elouisa was so hollow and as though it wasn't her controlling her body that entire day

"it's a cruel reminder that it's now been a decade since he's died and i still forget that he's never coming back even when i win races..." elouisa whispered, tears that hadn't been shed since that podium, rose in her eyes as her lip trembled 

"...you can cry, lieverd sweetheart." max whispered and that was all that elouisa needed to hear before the tears tumbled down her face as max hugged her close to his chest, her hand covering her face, the other one wrapping around max's middle

the rest of the drivers weren't sure what to do. so they just stood awkwardly, feeling bad for their teammate that her breakdown was most definitely caused by the extremely persistent and abhorrent interviewer from the press conference. that was until lewis led the rest of them out by loudly announcing that they probably had better things to be doing than awkwardly watching max and elouisa. and, max and elouisa both would thank lewis for that later on in the day. not because the other drivers were being ignorant or rude, but it was uncomfortable to see their best friend and teammate cry and not know what to do other than just stand there awkwardly. they for sure could have gone in for a group hug and hopefully used that as a way to maybe make elouisa let out a croaky giggle but, they didn't want to push it or make her feel worse. so, with lewis in the lead, they all left the paddock and allowed max and elouisa to be left on their own. knowing and trusting that max would do everything in his power to get elouisa back to the elouisa they all knew and loved again. 

and it wouldn't take too much longer before max was able to dry elouisa's tears and get that smile back on her face. followed by a shrill giggle not too long after he got her smile back. sure, it was a painful reminder that her dad was gone but, he was never forgotten. no matter how many decades went past since the loss of her father, elouisa would always dedicate the rest of her life as a formula one driver to him. because he was the one that truly believed that his little girl had it in him to have what it took to become a formula one driver. 

fin

ok this ending was shitty and awful but, whilst i was rewriting an old one-shot that is once again max focused, i had this idea so i decided to write it before i forgot it. and this is what i had come up with. and yes, some of what is written in here is what i've through with the passing of my own dad. the truth starting with that, this year, october 2024, it will be an entire decade since my dad died. meaning that exactly like elouisa, i was also eleven when my dad died as i am now twenty-one. which means, it's getting to the point where i've been remembering him for longer than i've known him and that honestly kind of shatters my heart in a way that, by next year, 2025, he would have been dead for the exact same time as he was in my life and that just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. however, because it hasn't even gotten to ten years yet, i shouldn't be thinking about that just yet! and, another thing that is true that i've included in this story is that, not that long after it had been confirmed by the paramedics that my dad was dead and had stopped responding to cpr and defibrilation, i had said to my mum "when am i getting a new dad?" and, i cannot say that i am proud of that statement. it is truly something that haunts me everytime i remember that i said those words. i was just so confused and had no clue what was happening because everything had happened so quickly that those were the words that just tumbled out of little eleven year old amber's mouth.  i was also originally diagnosed with anxiety but then earlier this year, it was rediagnosed as ptsd because of how severe the anxiety within the ptsd was. so, yes, like i said in the author's note at the start, this was a very self-indulgent fic. i hope i didn't make anyone depressed but if i did, i promise i'll help pay for your therapy

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[khys-treasure-box]

AN: I love Wise a little too much, and this is what happens when I love characters too much I fear. Also, my apologies that this is my first post back since Valentine's Day. I've been going through a bit of a rough patch IRL and writing was kind of the last thing on my mind. This just ended up being the post that got done first since it was the one I had the most written for before things got messy and I lost my muse. :')

CW: Me? Hornyposting again? Psh, I'd never! No, but seriously, yea, this is me hornyposting again. That said, same as last time I did this, MDNI is not a suggestion! <3

As for content, this is basically just a a collection of kink/sexual interest headcanons, so there's multiple mentioned by name. Like a few of my other posts on here, this isn't really technically an X Reader, but there's enough vague talk of him with a partner that you could totally imagine yourself indulging in Wise's freakisms with him if you so desire! <3

Okay, I'm gonna be real here for a second.

I think Wise is a bit of a freak, but in a sort of classy way. Like, there's definitely things that get him going, but he is absolutely no gooner; not anywhere close actually. He doesn't often seek out things that are made to be arousing, nor does he generally struggle with making things sexual when they absolutely aren't. He's just a guy that's got things he's into on the down low.

That said, I think most, if not all, of his sexual interests have manifested completely accidentally. Some of them have definitely come from movies he's watched over the years, and if not from movies, natural self-discovery. The ones that came from movies were regular movies, just to be clear. Like I said before, I don't see him seeking out sexual material particularly often.

On the rare occasion he does, I definitely see him being an amateur/home-made porn kinda guy. He just can't find much, if any, enjoyment out of the super scripted and obviously overacted stuff going on in typical porn, plus he's just not a fan of the dynamics that are most common there. If he's gonna get off to something like that, it's gotta be a bit more real and definitely less morally and ethically dubious.

(Also, just a small addition here, I don't think he'd watch any porn at all if he has a partner. He'd feel like it's wrong to look at anyone else in that way when he has them.)

As for what kinks he has, I see Wise being drawn most to things that elicit strong emotions and that have a visual appeal to him. He's probably decently willing to experiment when it comes to things he's not already into as well, although he'll make it abundantly clear when something is a hard no for him. He's all for clear communication both ways.

As an easy example of something that satisfies both the emotional and visual cravings, he'd totally be into overstimulation. Doesn't matter if it's applied to him or his partner if he's got one, the feelings that come with it are so intense, not to mention the way it looks. It's just such a raw, unfiltered thing, and he enjoys it a lot. As for something purely visual, he's, maybe surprisingly, into clothed, or at least partially clothed sex. There's just something about not having a full view of everything that gets him going. Ironically though, he's also very much into both sending and receiving nudes (he doesn't keep them on his phone though thanks to a certain nosy sister of his). On the purely emotional end of the spectrum, Wise is a huge praise guy. He particularly enjoys slipping praises in between kisses, loves to remind his partner how good they feel, and loves to hear that same sentiment echoed by them in return. Having that sort of vocalized sweetness really heightens everything he's already feeling in the moment.

Oh, and for those wondering if he's more of a dominant or submissive type, I think he's an honest to god 50/50! He's perfectly content either way. As long as the mutual love and respect between him and his partner doesn't change with the dynamic shift, then he's eager regardless. At the end of the day, what matters to him most is getting to share pleasure with the person he adores. <3

[simpxxstan]

it isn't you

pairing: elementary school teacher!boo seungkwan x f.reader

genre: fluff and angst.

summary: you're ready to begin a completely new life in seoul, away from your ex-husband and your baggage of regrets. but fate has different plans for you when you meet seungkwan again, and this time, you don't want to let go.

word count: 8.3k words

rating: pg 13 

warnings: reader is a single mother. mentions of divorce, cold parents, poor parent-child relationship, anxiety and worries. mention of accidental pregnancy.

a/n: i CRAVE seungkwan w babies content and i wrote this completely to indulge my own craving. hope you enjoy! as always, would love to hear your thoughts!! reblogs and comments are so much appreciated <3

this is part of the boys over flowers series featuring booseoksoon + chan! this is the second instalment in that series.

“Eomma, there’s no need to be so scared!” Dahyun reminds you, putting her little hands on your arms as she hugs you. “Yes, yes,” you pause your mumbling and hug her back. It’s hard to believe that she turned four last week because she still feels so tiny in your arms. She’s definitely more calm than you as you both stand in front of the school you’ve come to enrol her at.

“It’s just… I’m just checking that you have everything with you. Okay. Eomma will come at three pm, and get you started in the creche, okay? Please listen to your teachers. If you want, talk to your classmates, hmm? I won’t force yo-” “Eomma! Shh! I’ve been to a school before, you know? I know how schools work.” She makes a serious face, and you laugh. “Alright, darling. When Eomma comes, let me know how your first day was. I love you Dahyun-ah, have fun, hmm?” And you press kisses to the side of her head before she plants a wet smooch on your cheek and runs off. “Bye Eomma!”

And she runs without looking back, and you wonder how she’s so relaxed and you’re so tense about her first day.

Probably because you had been a wreck throughout your school days. Well, she’s turned out to be quite not like you. Good for her. Easy for you. You remember your mother being so stressed because her daughter cried after every first day in each new class year at school, didn’t make a single friend till she turned seven, and barely scraped through most of her classes. Yeah, easy for you. 

It’s been two months since you’ve shifted from Gwangju to Seoul, and to be honest, you’ve felt like it’s your first day in school again for each day of the last two months. Finding a place for yourself and your daughter, settling down in your new job, and now, getting your daughter’s life started after you uprooted it in the middle of the school year when you moved out of Gwangju. It’s nice that Dahyun’s barely made a mess about it all- she’s honestly too understanding as a child, and you don’t deserve her- but it’s still worrying for you to see your daughter go through all this at such a tender age and think of what impact it may have on her later. Your parents haven’t been the least bit supportive, so all you have is Dahyunie and all she has is you. 

When you’re getting up on the bus, once you see Dahyun safely enter the school campus, you feel your phone buzz. It’s your boss calling to find out where you are. You’ve already informed work that you’re going to be about half an hour late so it’s an entirely unnecessary call, but you know he’s a little nosy, although not necessarily with bad intentions. In less than twenty minutes, you’ve reached office and got buried nose-deep into work, and soon, it’s three pm already. 

When you arrive at Sebong Elementary School, you see a crowd of parents and their tiny tots gathered around what you think is the hall where the creche is going to be organised. You’re frantically looking for Dahyun in the crowd, when something comes and jumps at your knees. “Eomma!” A brightly-smiling Dahyun hugs your legs and you quickly bend down to pick her up. “Hi, hi, sorry I’m late, I got-” “It’s okay, Eomma.” She kisses you on the cheek before wrapping herself like a koala on your side. “How was your first day, baby?” “Good. Not 5 stars because there was so much crying-” “Oh dear, why?” “Because some of the other kids were missing home! I didn’t cry, because I was having fun talking to my teachers and making friends and colouring into my alphabet book and-” “Oh, darling you made friends? Such a brave baby,” you kiss her, as you both walk towards the hall and Dahyun continues her loud rambling all about her school day. And soon, along with the other twenty-odd parents and their children, you finally make it into the hall. There are two teachers standing up on one side, greeting the children. You can see one of them is a female, wearing a bright green banner pasted to her shirt with her name printed on it. The other teacher is a male, and he has his back towards you. You slowly make your way to the female teacher, who apparently Dahyun recognises from one of her classes. Once she’s greeted you two and assigned you a seat, you sit there quietly. Dahyun finds a few familiar faces in the crowds and you make small talk with their parents, while the others settle down. 

“Hello everyone! Welcome to Sebong Creche! We’re so happy to have you all here with us.” The female teacher greets the crowd and everyone smiles and claps softly, as do you. Suddenly your phone is buzzing. It’s your boss again. Seems that the message that you’re taking the half day off hasn’t reached him, so you’re trying to type him a message when a voice surprises you. 

No, it, in fact, makes your head spin and your heart stop. 

“My name is Boo Seungkwan and this is Choi Ria! We’ll be taking care of the creche for the next six months! Pleased to meet you all.”

Fuck. Your phone slips and drops from your hand and Dahyun yelps in your lap in surprise. The phone makes a dreadfully loud sound, and in the silence of the room, everyone looks at you. You gulp and pick up your phone, trying to avoid drawing more attention, but you can’t help but notice one pair of eyes fixated on you, the single person you’d tried to avoid.

Seungkwan. 

And god, he looks just the same as he did five years ago when you’d seen him last before leaving for Gwangju. His hair is now brown and his blue sweater brings out the fresh glow of his skin, and fuck you if every regret of your life isn’t flooding into your mind at this very second. The female teacher speaks up, thankfully taking the attention from you, but not Seungkwan. His eyes still linger on yours, a confused expression in his eyes, before looking away and breaking eye contact. 

Oh god. Just when everything was going to go right. 

_

Once the initial briefings are over, parents are offered the chance to leave and pick their children back again at the designated time, or sit through this first session as the kids get used to the creche atmosphere. Dahyun is right- too many kids are crying. And you would too, if you had been here. But Dahyun is lively, she’s confidently eating her banana and singing to herself as the teachers give everyone their snacks.

But to be fair, your eyes are only on Seungkwan. He’s moving around with a lithe familiarity, and children cling to him with every minor inconvenience. It’s in the way he’s talking to them, the way he’s approaching them, and in the way he’s handling them with so much care, that you already feel safe about leaving Dahyun here. 

It’s not a new sensation, though. Feeling safe around him. 

So when everyone leaves and Dahyun has finally packed her bag and run to the spot you’ve been sitting all the while, you pick her up and turn around to find Seungkwan standing near you. Up close, even with the tiredness setting into his features, you notice how manly and mature he looks- so different from the fresh-faced college boy you’d left behind in Seoul so many years ago. 

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you for trusting your… daughter with us.”

Oh. Formals. So it’s going to be like that, is it. Dahyun giggles when Seungkwan extends a hand to pat her hair, his hand awfully close to your own hand, so he quickly takes his hand away. “Seungkwanie Ssaem likes tangerines, he said! I like banana!” Dahyun giggles again, and you finally let out a breath and say, “I’m relieved to know that I’m leaving her in capable hands.” Because, truly, who would take care of Dahyun like Seungkwan would? Who would care for Dahyunie with hands so gentle, and a smile so kind, and eyes so soft like Seungkwan would? Seungkwan would sense, would know by instinct, what she would want. After all…

And then Seungkwan gives you a tight smile, much less kind than the one he gives to Dahyun, and waves you goodbye. You look away, unable to stare any longer, and make your way home with your little angel in your arms. 

_

School works out excellently for Dahyun-ah. It turns out Seugnkwan is not always there. There are two teachers working out alternately. So you can only catch Seungkwan again two days later, when you arrive a tad bit late and find Dahyun sitting on Seungkwan’s lap and the both of them playing with a playdough.

“I didn’t know you teach in this school, Seungkwan.” You say when he comes to hand your child to you. He doesn’t meet your eyes, still distracted with scratching off the playdough from Dahyun’s fingers. “I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known,” you add softly and he looks up. It’s true, but it’s not something you necessarily regret. 

“Does it matter?”

You keep the eye contact, and whisper, “It does.” Seungkwan turns away, clearly not intent on melting ice so quickly. “Seungkwan-ah, it’s not what you think it is!” 

He turns back ever so slightly. “Has it ever been what I’ve thought it is?”

Right then, Dahyun pokes your shoulder and yawns, indicating how sleepy she is. It’s time to go home. 

_

“Eomma!” Dahyun asks you as soon as you reach the creche. Today you’re on time, so it’s still crowded with other kids and their parents who’ve come to pick them up. You bend down and kiss Dahyun on her cheek. “Aww my baby.” She kisses you back, “Eomma I had a question!” You nod, fixing her shoes on her feet. “Why does my name start with Y/L/N and not Lee like Appa’s? All my friends at the creche have their names starting with their Appa’s family name.” Oh god. She’s about to find- she knows, she knows, she’s- she’s angry at you for hiding it- 

“Dahyunie, I’m sorry I-”

“Huh? Why’re you saying sorry, Eomma?” She looks genuinely confused and you reconsider for a second. Was it an innocent question or-”

“You look like you’re about to cry.” 

In your mess, you haven’t even noticed when the crowds have started to clear up and Seungkwan has crouched down next to you, holding a small cup of water. You stare at him, his big, beautiful, brown eyes, and you take the cup slowly. 

Dahyun smiles at her teacher, and you remember how Seungkwan was so intent on not conversing with you the last time you tried to talk to him. So you’ve made up your mind. If he wants to keep his distance, you will too. He wasn’t in the plan, anyway. But then Seungkwan asks, “I want to know too. Why does she not have her father’s family name?” You realise then, just how close he is to you. Your conversation is happening in it’s own bubble, and the rest of the world won’t even be able to hear anything. The pink from Dahyun’s dress reflects on Seungkwan’s face, giving it a more bubblegum glow than usual. He keeps his eyes on yours, and you feel obligated to answer.

“That’s because… Appa isn’t family anymore. Ever since I left Gwangju.”

That’s the most sugar-coated way you can explain it to Dahyun, who seems to get it nevertheless. She nods and explains to Seungkwan- “Eomma and Appa don’t talk to each other anymore. That’s why we’re here in Seoul. It’s already been three months.” You know she’s starting to forget her father’s voice, she told you once in the warm moments before sleep. You’d cried in the bathroom that night, feeling terrible and only calming down once you reminded yourself that it was your only choice. 

Seungkwan keeps looking at you. There’s something in his eyes, as his eyes go from your eyes, to your lips and then fall to your hand where he notices the absence of a wedding ring. Maybe it is curiosity, you wonder. But he also doesn’t ask anything else in front of Dahyun, and you’re thankful. 

“Your daughter is lovely.” 

You bite your lip to stop yourself from correcting him. “She is. Just turned four.” His eyes become curious again, but then he blinks and looks at Dahyun. “I was wondering if you’d enrolled her into any sports classes? I think she’d enjoy them, because she’s an active child.” 

You nod, “I did consider. I didn’t know which classes were good in Seoul so I’d thought I’d wait another year before enrolling her to ensure she settles down well…”

“Oh. That’s your call, I guess. But Dahyun seems to be settling down well enough. If you want… distractions, say… then a sport activity would be great.” 

“You’re right. I’ll check it out for sure. If you had any suggestions…”

“There’s a badminton coaching centre nearby. Perhaps you could check them out.”

“Thank you. I will. Thank you so much.” Seungkwan nods once at you, eyes lingering, before he waves sweetly at Dahyun and takes his leave. 

That night, your subconscious plays tricks on you. It floods your dreams with memories, leaving you sweaty and squirmy at night, even as the air conditioner blasts cool air into the room. Memories you thought you’d forgotten. Memories of a certain boy running laps in the college volleyball field during practice and you sitting in the corner of the ground, finishing your homework. Memories of that boy running to you during the ten minute break, sipping an energy drink from his sipper and kissing you in the spot of shade you’ve been sitting in, his mouth tasting like the orange flavour of the drink. Memories of you giggling, because his sweat is rubbing on your arms and he’s so gross, but you still can’t stop yourself from hugging him close for the rest of the short break. Memories of him promising to convince Coach to let him go fast because he wants to walk you home because it’s so unsafe to walk alone in the evening. Memories of Seungkwan giving you a last peck on your lips before jogging back to the grounds, both his and your cheeks smudged with sunshine and affection, eyes warm with the power of love, and hearts pure without any worry of life. 

_

“Hello?” Your voice is desperate as you wait for the person on the other side of the line to answer. This is the first time you’re calling the creche, as your boss had suddenly decided you need to finish a task before leaving, even if it’s raining cats and dogs outside, even if you have a daughter who’s waiting for you at a creche, even if it’ll be totally fine to finish the task at home and submit it later. Consequently, you got out of work late and the bus is stuck in a road full of traffic due to the terrible weather and you’re already half an hour late to Dahyun’s creche’s closing time. 

“Yes, this is Sebong Creche. I’m speaking to?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, this is Dahyun’s mom-”

“Y/N?” It’s Seungkwan. He must be able to hear the way your voice is cracking with panic. It’s odd to introduce yourself as Dahyun’s mom to Seungkwan but that’s the way it is now. 

“I’m so sorry, I really am-”

“Calm down, please. Tell me what’s happening.”

“I… I got stuck at work… and I’m running late. I’m sorry for all this inconvenience-”

“Y/N, shh. Stop apologising and talk to me. Where are you now?”

“Umm, I’m still at my office. Please leave her near a guard or someone, Seungkwan, and I can pick her up in a short while! I’m trying to get out of her as soon as-”

“I can take her to your home.”

“Oh but-”

“Dahyun’s told me that you live in the neighbourhood right next to the school. I can walk her till there. She has a spare key, yes? She can get in.”

“But it’s raining!”

“And we have raincoats.”

“I don’t want to impose on you, honestly. You could just leave her-”

“And let her be alone? Y/N, you’re out of your mind.”

“But I don’t want to trouble you, Seungkwan-ah.”

“Do you not trust me?” You pause. You do trust him. There is nobody else you would trust more with your daughter. Fuck it. 

“I do trust you.”

“Then finish your work and come home safely. Dahyunie and I will head to your home.”

It’s about two hours later that you are able to reach home, only to find Seungkwan and Dahyun both giggling away at something he’s showing to her on his phone. They’re sitting at the island in the kitchen, and you notice the bottle of milkshake that had been stored in the fridge for Dahyun is now empty next to her. When you enter, they notice you and Dahyun immediately squeals out in joy. She gets off the high chair she was sitting in and comes running to you and you immediately pick her up in your arms. Something unfamiliar and beautiful blooms in your mind, but it’s immediately clouded down by a sadness which you don’t understand. 

_

When Dahyun falls asleep after you feed her dinner which you whip up quickly, Seungkwan’s still sitting in your kitchen, eating the rice and chicken you’ve made. 

“You still cook well, Y/N.”

You’re sitting across from him, and you pick up another piece of chicken and put it on his plate. “I’m glad you still like it.”

Oh god. He’s too close for confort. He’s right here, in your house, eating dinner you’ve made, after looking after your child for two whole hours while you were stuck at work. 

Is this what life would’ve turned out to be had you not left him four years back?

It seems that he’s thinking the same thing too, because he asks you, “Did you get the job you were studying for?”

“Yeah. I did. I am an actuary now.”

He smiles, digging into his food again, scrunching up his face as he chews it all down. 

“And you? I didn’t think you’d ever planned to become a teacher.”

“I didn’t. Someone told me something about volleyball being an unstable career. And I thought maybe I should switch.”

You sigh. He says it so normally, even when simply hearing it breaks your heart. You stop yourself from crying, because you know it’ll just be more pathetic. You won’t be able to explain to him why you’re crying. You won’t be able to explain why your heart aches everytime you see them together. You’ve spent many a night awake, wondering what would happen if your secret gets out. It’s so cruel that fate has landed you back into the proximity of the one man you had never imagined you would see again. And sometimes you hope a silver lining may emerge from this all, but it’s a faint hope. A daydream you don’t think you can afford to dream at this juncture of life. 

“I did get her into badminton like you said. She’s a natural, the teacher said.” As expected. Seungkwan smiles proudly, and you nearly tear up. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you. “I hope you don’t stop her from playing even when she grows up.” He says quietly, picking up his plate and walking towards the sink. You shrink further into your seat. 

“You know it wasn’t me.”

“No, but you might have the same views as your mother.”

“You should know I don’t. There’s a reason why Sehun Oppa and I are divorced now.”

He puts the plate in the sink and turns around to look at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You walk towards him and stand next to him as you start the tap to wash the dishes. “I’ll do that,” he offers, but you swat his hand away. “It’s my house. You’re my guest.” “It’s a quaint house. Very you.” “Is it? I didn’t have enough time to decorate it.” “I think it’s enough- sparse but not too empty. There is room for more, better now that she’s out of her clumsy phase.” “Hmm, what would you add?” “I don’t know, let me see.” He leans against the kitchen counter, the dim lights casting a beautiful shadow under his eyelashes which make his high cheekbones look so delicate. “I’d add a standing lamp in that corner, next to the couch. And perhaps a rug in front of the couch. Better for Dahyun than sitting on the cold wood floor. And I’d- Oh sorry. I’m saying too much.” “No, really. Your ideas are helpful. I haven’t thought much about all this but when you say it, I can picture it.” You look up and smile at him, his head tilted down as he looks at you intensely. “And perhaps a photo frame on the wall between the kitchen and the living space. Those new trendy collage ones. And, also a…”

Oh god. He’s making it so hard for you to not lean in and press a kiss to his cheek right now. He’s making it so hard for you to tell him everything- from the beginning, the entire truth. 

“Do you want dessert? I have chocolate ice cream.” You know he can’t turn down ice cream. So you just laugh when you see his hesitant smile turn into a shy smile, and you ask him to sit at the couch. When you take out two scoops for each of you and take it to the couch, he shifts to the opposite end of the couch to make room for you. 

“I don’t know if it’s my place to ask you, but have you told Dahyun about the… divorce?”

You sigh, “No. I haven’t. I’m just hoping that she’ll eventually forget about him quickly… she is young, after all.” 

“Won’t he want to meet her?”

“No, we’ve completely cut ties. It was the only option- I had to move on totally. And he didn’t want to keep any link either.” 

His eyebrows furrow, and you can see the questions in his eyes. You don’t want to say anything because you don’t want to appear like a damsel in distress, but you also don’t want to worry him. 

“He wasn’t abusive or anything. We just realised that it was a marriage in futility. Divorce was a relief to both of us.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t reduce the questions in his eyes. But he doesn’t ask anything, and you don’t elaborate. You’ve overshared enough. 

“I just want to thank you again, Seungkwan-ah. For taking care of Dahyun and bringing her to my place. You know as a mother I am incredibly grateful.”

“Just because we’re exes doesn’t mean I won’t take care of your daughter, Y/N-ah,” he chuckles bitterly. “She’s like my own, and I would do it for anyone else. It is my job, and you know it is my nature.” 

You do. It feels like whiplash to hear that he would indeed do the exact same thing for anyone else too, it feels like a gash from a knife slashed across your chest. You choke, but you muffle it as a laugh. “I know it is your nature. But I still want to thank you, nonetheless.”

He smiles. “Thanks for the ice cream. I’ll not be a bother to you anymore now.”

“You could never be a bother, Kwan-ah.” He doesn’t say anything and simply takes your leave. It’s a night that feels bittersweet to you. While it’s a nice feeling to be basked in Seungkwan’s warmth again, it feels cruel that you’ll never truly enjoy his affection, or even his friendship.

_

The ice does break after that day. Seungkwan gives you smiles when you go to pick up Dahyun, and that initial tenseness is definitely gone. But you don’t push it too much. You don’t want to push the status quo because you’re afraid it’ll all be gone again. You’re afraid you won’t be able to protect yourself and your happiness once again because of your own mistakes. You’ve done it once before, and it’s not ended pretty. You can’t afford to repeat errors. 

“You must cut off ties with him right away, Y/N. Or else you’ll never see me or your father again.” Your mother’s voice booms through the room, muffling the sounds of your tears as you beg at her feet. Your father stands on the other side, looking outside the window, in that unfeeling, emotionless attitude you have always seen him wear. 

“But why, Eomma! What harm has Seungkwan done to you or me or anyone at all?”

“That boy is a gold-digger! He’s after your money. He knows very well he’ll get nowhere with volleyball. A sport should remain a hobby, but I doubt a middle class doofus like him would ever have the brains to even make a decent livi-”

“Oh you’re so wrong, Eomma! How can you say such things about him when you don’t even know him?”

“That’s enough. I know enough, Y/N. And I know he is not the man you ought to be spending your life with. He will not make you happy.” Your mother stands up from her seat and walks away, carelessly pushing you aside on her way. She would trample you down and walk over you like an ant even if you’d laid down at her feet. 

Honestly, what had you ever expected from your parents when you’d told them on the day of your graduation that you had a boyfriend? You had tried to explain how wonderful Seungkwan was, but they had turned a deaf ear and insisted you cut off all relations with him. With college over, you could do nothing to stop their plans- they took away your old phone, gave you a new contact number with which you could neither contact Seungkwan nor your friends, and didn’t allow you to leave the house. It was terrible- a true prison. So when your mother had offered you one chance to leave this prison- by marrying Sehun, you’d taken it. You’d taken it because you had known it would be drastically better than living cooped up in this mess forever- your heart aching, your mind helpless and your body tired. 

Even after moving to Gwangju and starting a new life with Sehun didn’t take away the emptiness you felt in your soul. But you, like an utter coward, had resigned to this fate and accepted married life with Sehun with open arms, ready to forget about your cherished past, about Seungkwan and all that you had loved earlier. And Sehun charmed you so neatly- with gifts, affection and everything you wanted. It was so different from the manner in which Seungkwan had loved you- while he’d been tender, always asking you before doing anything, never discouraging and always supporting in the background, Sehun was more active, more aggressive in the way he made you feel special. He would often take you on these whirlwind date nights- where he would make love to you under the stars in entire picnic spots he would book for you, where you drove for miles away from the city and spent the weekend in tea plantations, where you didn’t even have to ask and he would drop the world at your feet. It was a new sort of heaven, a rush of adrenaline you had never experienced before. Not with your parents- who had never treated you with any affection. Not with Seungkwan- who’d been equally giving, but shy, passive and so soft in his love. And this rush of adrenaline blew you off your feet. 

Until the news arrived. 

One month into this new marriage, you’d found out, only by accident, that you were pregnant. Had been pregnant for an entire month. Sehun was, of course, overjoyed. You’d asked the doctor to not tell him the exact duration of your pregnancy, because of course, you knew that it wasn’t possible that the child growing inside you had been conceived with Sehun at least a week before your wedding. 

That really broke you out of the haze your new marriage had trapped you in. Guilt and sadness tore into your newly patched up heart and reminded you of the boy you’d left behind at home, without even a message of where you were going. God knows how worried he may have been for you. Instead of considering him even once, you’d been swayed away by the pleasures of married life like a fool, that too, with a man you knew no more than a mere family friend, with a man whom, honestly, you did not love, with a man who had been planted in your life by your parents to distract you away from Seungkwan. 

Oh god. 

Your parents had won, and you’d lost.

And that broke you down. No matter how hard Sehun tried, he could not get your spirit back into the relationship- and you knew that this was the end of your marriage. After that, everything was just hollow clockwork, living with a stranger who slept in your bed, ate on the same dining table, and resided under the same roof as yours. You had become reckless. Under the added influence of hormones, you let yourself get aloof from everyone and everything, choosing to bury yourself in your self-pity and detaching yourself from society. 

And then it was only Dahyun who made you smile again. 

Little Dahyun who became the light of your life. Your reason to live again, your reason to find meaning and joy again. Because she was a part of you. And because she was a part of Seungkwan.  So you’d named her accordingly. Your little bundle of sunshine. 

Oh boy, did she look like her father. Of course, Sehun never found out. He was extremely caring towards Dahyun, ever a doting father, just as giving and aggressive about his love as he had been as a husband. It was a miracle that Dahyun was born slightly later than nine months- never causing any suspicion to rise in his mind at all. And it broke your heart a little bit, but then you remembered that Sehun was never on your side, really. For all you knew, perhaps he’d just been instructed by your parents to make you feel so loved that it would make you forget about Seungkwan. And he’d definitely succeeded. Almost. 

Eventually, you became less of a wreck and more normal. Mostly because of Dahyun and how you wanted to be the best mother ever for her. But also because you realised that this was not worth giving up all your happiness for. So you went back to the world- socialising, finding a job, and doing everything you could to settle down into this life in your new home. But it never really became your home. At the end of the day, when you’d lie down in your bed with Dahyun cradled in your arms, you’d still have that empty feeling somewhere inside, wanting more from life. But obviously, you never dared to tell anyone the truth. You don’t have a way out, so it was best to fit in, until opportunity arose.

_

“Eomma, Seungkwan Ssaem said yes!” Dahyun’s shrill voice greets you when you arrive at the creche. “Yes to what, sweetie?” “To my birthday, of course!” She’s snugly sitting on Seungkwan’s shoulders, and it strikes you in full force, just how much she resembles her father. The large boba brown eyes, crinkled at the edges, the bangs slipping back to reveal an elegant forehead with the tiny nose and small, rosy lips, that highlight the high cheekbones and the full, plump cheeks you so adore. It’s a wonder no one has noticed it before. And you dearly hope it remains like that.

“Oh, you invited him, did you now?” You carefully ask, as Seungkwan lets Dahyun climb off his back and towards the shoe rack. “Her birthday is this Sunday. Of course, I won’t expect you to attend. She’s a child… she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just wants to invite everyone she likes to her party, I guess.”

“It’s an honour to be liked by someone as fascinating as Dahyun-ah, Y/N. It’s hurtful that you don’t expect me to be at her party on her special invitation.” He smiles, that gentle, indulging smile of his which he uses whenever he’s teasing you, and you know it’s coming but you always get so riled up by his teasing. 

“No! I didn’t mean it like that… oh god. I haven’t gotten better with words with time, have I?”

Seungkwan’s smile becomes wider. 

“You haven’t changed at all.”

_

You remember the night of Dahyun’s third birthday party in Gwangju. Sehun had organised the most lavish party for her, complete with balloons of every colour and inviting nearly all her classmates at her school. Dahyun, ever the extrovert, had been so happy that night. 

But that was the night everything changed. 

Sehun takes you into a room, away from the crowds of the party, and you ask him, confused, “What’s going on?”

“You know I went to the hospital today with Dahyun to get her regular checkup from her paediatrician.” 

“I do know, yes. What about it?”

“Guess what he said. He said, among other things, Dahyun was late-born child. She was born ten months after she was conceived, not nine months.”

You drop the glass you were holding in your hand, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Oppa, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. She isn’t mine, is she?”

You heave a breath as you try to calculate what his next step might be. You try to calculate whether offense or defense should be your correct strategy here, because truly you have nothing to lose, except your daughter. If Sehun kicks you out and makes a show in front of your parents, you’ll run away so far that they’ll never be able to track you. 

But he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. 

“We were never really married, were we?” His hand shakes as he comes to cup your cheek. “Let’s not stay together any longer. Let’s get divorced, hmm?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Out of every possible answer that he could’ve given, this is undoubtedly the best, and the safest, one. 

“Yes, let’s do that, Sehun. Let’s not pretend we love each other anymore.”

_

Tonight, you’ve tried to give her a little bit of that splendour Sehun had given her while you both had been in Gwangju. You’ve baked her a cake with three types of chocolate, invited as many of her friends from school as she’d ever mentioned in her stories about school, and cooked tteokbokki and tangsuyuk, her favourite dishes, for the entire group at the party. 

But then Seungkwan arrives. 

Seeing him reminds you of his words at the creche where you last saw him, which had given you butterflies for the past few nights. He’d taken you back to the giggling mess you’d been at the freshman’s welcome party when Seungkwan had complimented your dress that you’d tailored for yourself and taken away your heart. Of course, it had taken many more months for you to gather the courage to even speak to him, and then more months for you both to officially begin dating, but you’d known on that night of the welcome party that Boo Seungkwan would always be your weakness. 

And you were right. His words have lingered in your mind these last few days, and now that he’s arrived at Dahyun’s party with another teacher from the school who Dahyun had specially invited, wearing a black shirt and black trousers, his hair gelled up and a bit of lip balm on his lips, he’s still giving you butterflies. 

“Thank you for coming really! Dahyun will be so overjoyed. She’s just in the other room with all the friends, they’re playing with her toys.”

“Oh it’s nothing at all. We just dropped by because we love Dahyun so much, and because hyung was so insistent,” the other teacher, Chan, says. “We haven’t met each other yet, have we?” “No, I’m afraid not. But I have heard so much about your dance classes from Dahyunie. She’s really big on sports and dancing, such an active child. A complete opposite from me, so it’s a little hard for me to understand.” You smile as you hand them both a piece of the birthday cake.

“Oh, she must’ve taken after her dad.” Chan says with a smile, unknowingly speaking the truth. 

“You’re right. She has.”

“This tastes amazing, Y/N-ah.” Seungkwan quietly says as he eats his cake. 

“Oh. I’m glad. I made it for her. Chocolate is her favourite flavour.” 

“Would it be too much for ask for another slice?” Chan says with a giggle, and you cry out, “Of course not! I’m a bad host for not offering you anyway. I’m sorry, here you go.”

“So, you and hyung know each other from college, I heard.”

Seungkwan’s sharp breath can be heard and you’re instantly on the edge. “Yes. We… were friends.” We were in love. “Your hyung wanted to become a volleyball star at that time, Chan-ssi.” I stole his dream from him. “Oh really? I never knew you played it so seriously, hyung! Y/N-ssi, did you also play?” “Oh no. Like I said, I was never into sports.” 

“No.” You almost miss Seungkwan’s voice. “Your parents never encouraged you to try out sports.” Chan looks at him puzzled, and he continues, “It’s important for parents to let children experiment with different things as a child to let them make their own choices. I hope you won’t make the same mistakes your parents made, Y/N-ah.” 

You’re silent for a second before replying, “I’m here because I’m not going to make the same mistakes, Seungkwan. But it’s fair for you to not trust me to be a good mother.”

“I never said that,” his eyes soften. “I’ve always known you’d be the best mother, Y/N-ah. And I can see that in the way Dahyun’s been brought up.”

In that moment with electricity charged between your gazes, you’ve both forgotten about Chan sitting there right in between you two. There’s so much going unsaid, so much you can’t even explain, so much you don’t even want to admit to yourself. 

“Chan Ssaem! Seungkwan Ssaem! You came!” Dahyun bursts in suddenly, and behind her are a flurry of other tiny kids from her class. They all cheer very loudly on seeing their teachers, quite shocked to see them outside class. Seungkwan gives her a gift- it’s a set of jigsaw puzzles, and Chan places a faux crown on her head as he gives her a book. The tensions dissolve, and you’re glad. 

Chan leaves after a short while, but on your (and Dahyun’s) request, Seungkwan stays. He stays long enough to see all the kids leave one by one, and Dahyun becoming tired from all that playing and chattering. So after you’ve cleaned up the house from the mess of the party, grateful that your daughter enjoyed so much but also overstimulated from it all, you almost cry when you see Seungkwan sitting on the couch with Dahyun asleep in his lap, his head bent as he scrolls through his phone. You wonder, if in another life, in another world, in another universe, this would be your life and not a mirage you yearned for. 

But what if you were brave? What if you could be ambitious and try to have it all in this life itself?

“Ice cream for dessert.” You hand the bowl to Seungkwan as you sit on the other side of the sofa. You softly take Dahyun and twist her into your lap, and she instantly wraps herself around you as she finds your warmth. You can’t help but kiss her forehead fondly, mirroring the expression Seungkwan wears right now. 

“You’ve really brought her up so well. She’s got all your good genes.”

“And yours.”

Seungkwan’s hand stills mid-air when he was trying to scoop into the ice cream. 

“What did you say?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered. She is four years old, and she looks remarkably like you. The similarities are obvious.”

“But I… I didn’t dare to- no! You’re lying.” Seungkwan’s voice becomes a harsh whisper as he stares at you incredulously. You match his gaze, letting down your shield. “I’m not.” He continues to stare at you. Then he suddenly drops to his knees near your feet and says, “Y/N. Don’t be cruel to me anymore. You can’t joke about-” “I’m not joking, Seungkwan, why won’t you believe me?” “Because I don’t want to believe and become hopeful only to lose it all again!” You’re both nearly shouting but in loud whispers, trying to not wake up Dahyun, who’s surprisingly, still peacefully snoring away. 

You stand up and pull Seungkwan to his feet. Then you drag him to the bedroom and gently close the door. 

“You can test it. I’m not lying.” You softly grab his wrist, but he shivers. “You’re going to make me mad, Y/N. How is this possible? Why did you not tell me? Why did you leave me then?” He finally asks, his voice hoarse with emotion. 

“Do you really not know?”

“No… I do. You sent that letter.”

“I didn’t. I found out years later about it. My mother sent it. You think I’d break up with you over a typed letter?”

“So? What was it for?”

“They didn’t let me out of the house. Wouldn’t let me meet you. Or anyone. The only way to get out of that hell was to marry Sehun.”

“I read about the wedding in the local newspaper.” He shakes his head bitterly. “But he was truly your match- in status, and in wealth.”

“You know I’ve never cared for anything like that.” You tug at his wrist, and he looks up at you. 

“Is that why you left him? Because of Dahyun? But why so late then?”

“I was waiting to gather enough finances. Plus, he didn’t even suspect anything until six months ago. Perfectly timed, coincidentally, for my savings to come up to a good amount for me to confidently move out.”

He shakes his head vigorously, his eyes wide. “No, no… you’re not making sense. Can you start from the beginning?”

So you do. You tell him everything, from the beginning. By the end of it, he’s sitting on your bed, next to you, as you both stare at your feet. It feels so relieving and so freeing to tell him, someone apart from yourself the whole truth. It’s like a weight lifted off your chest and a headache that dissipates into thin air. You slouch back and look at Seungkwan, who’s still looking like he’s in shock. 

After a solid ten minutes, he says, “Why didn’t you tell me before, Y/N?”

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t know how you’d react, I didn’t know if you’d accept us. I didn’t know what would happen if somehow the truth reached my parents. I was obsessed with protecting my daughter, first, you see.”

“I do see. But I… it still hurts that you didn’t trust me with it.”

“But it would be fair for you… back then, and even now, to not want us in your life. To remain strangers forever. I- I would understand. You have every right to be angry at me-”

“I’d think you would know me better than this, Y/N-ah. You would know that no matter how many times you leave me, if you ever want to come back I would open my arms wide and fall to your feet to let me love you again.”

A stray tear escapes your eyes. It’s a stab to your chest, and you extend a hand slowly to touch Seungkwan’s hands which lie in his lap. He doesn’t say a word, only opens his fingers to capture your hand in his and tightly seals the clasp. It’s so warm, his hands. The touch is remarkably familiar. 

“What do you want, Seungkwan-ah? I’ve given it all up to you. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

He just looks up at you, his hand still holding on to yours. He doesn’t say a word, but then he gently leans in. You think he’s going to whisper something, but then he places a small kiss on your lips. It’s a peck, no more, but it sends your body in overdrive. Suddenly, you’re floating and drowning all at the same time. “She has your hair,” he says, his breath mingling into yours as his lips move just a few inches away from you, eyes still locked. You giggle. It’s true- Dahyun’s hair is just the same as yours, but the rest of her completely looks like him, you know. “I can’t… I can’t believe it that you’re here, Kwan-ah.” “Neither can I. When you arrived at the creche that day, I thought I was hallucinating. Even more when I saw your little girl sitting in your arms.” “Our little girl. We made her.” You can see the way Seungkwan’s entire face turns red. “Fuck, Y/N. How can you say it so easily?” “Because I’ve had four years to adjust to it. I’m sorry if I’ve bombed you with too much information too fast.” “No kidding. It felt like that climax scene from a romcom movie except this is real life, it was my life.” “Don’t be dramatic. Why did you kiss me?” “Because I missed you?” And it’s your turn to become red with embarrassment. Some part of you feels overjoyed, but still so guilty. So you move away from him, taking away from your hand from his grip and turning your entire body away. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Kwan-ah. I’ve hurt you so much already. You shouldn’t forgive me so easily.”

He softly grips your shoulders and turns you to face him. “I have been hurt by your actions, it’s true. You left me in an abyss from which only I know how I escaped. But it still didn’t feel like you. After all the love you gave me, how could you just run away from me by leaving that letter and marry someone else? I couldn’t believe that you could be so cruel, so deceiving. But everything around me told me I was wrong. Your marriage announcement, the way you didn’t call me or even contact me, or in fact, any of our college friends, everything was eventually proving to me that you were gone forever from my life.”

More tears flood down your cheeks. His grip tightens, and he continues. “But you’ve explained the truth to me, and now I can’t help but forgive you. Because I know I was right. All along, in my heart, I knew it and I was right. And now you’re here. I would be a fool to let you go again.” 

“But-”

“There’s no buts. I’m not looking back.”

And he hugs you, his warmth engulfing your entire body as you cling to him. He smells sweet, like he did all those years ago, and you hold him close, so close that you can’t breathe but you can’t let go either. 

“Baby? I can’t breathe.” Seungkwan whispers in your ears, and you shiver in the shock of hearing the pet name. “I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“No, don’t be sorry. Let’s get Dahyunie into bed, hmm? Do you sleep with her?”

“I do. This is our bedroom.”

“Then let’s get her to bed.”

“Will you stay?”

“Hmm?” Seungkwan looks at you, his eyes wet but fond, as he walks towards the door to pick up Dahyun where she’s sleeping on the couch. 

“Stay with us?”

“Are you going to tell Dahyun?”

“What do you say?”

“It’s your call. You’re her mother.”

“And you’re her father,” you whisper as you walk towards him and sling your hands around his neck. 

“God, don’t say it so casually. It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

You lean in and kiss him on his cheek. “I was thinking- maybe if she woke up and found her favourite Ssaem cuddling her, would she be pleasantly surprised?”

“What if she gets creeped out?”

“Oh god. I think Dahyun loves you enough to not be creeped out by it. At most, she’d think we’re dating now.”

“We’re not?”

“Are we?” 

He kisses you softly on your cheek, an open-mouthed kiss that leaves your skin wet. “I love you Y/N. I never stopped loving you. Will you have me back again in your life?”

You hug him tightly again, your nerves tingling with joy. “Oh god, I love you too, Seungkwan-ah. I’ll love you better this time.”

“Shh, darling. Let’s get our little baby to sleep now, hmm?”

You look at him, and you see stars. It’s a miracle, nothing short of that. But he’s yours. Again. 

“Shall we change her last name to Boo now?”

“Oh dear. Boo Dahyun?”

“It sounds so cute!”

“Now stop squealing or I can’t open the door otherwise she’ll wake up!” 

“Sorry, I’ll be quiet, baby.” 

He smiles widely and kisses you again, full on your mouth, “I promise, I’ll never let you go. Nor Dahyunie. I love you so much.”

a/n: read the stories of the other three boys here! would love to hear your feedback!

[oursweetescape]

If you have seen my previous post. I'm back to my favorite rarepair/elseworld pairing. And while watching older videos and observing the fandom I've noticed some people just don't see the pairing. And honestly? I feel like it's hard not to especially since Damian was a defining (arguably a main) character for the movies.

I thought I'd take a bit of time to point out a scene I noticed no one ever talks about. Then maybe a few others just fuel this fandom a bit.

So in Judas Contract Damian got too nosy for his own good and was held captive. During this time Terra is having her anniversary party.

Deathstroke then taunts Damian about missing it but mentions BB sent pictures.

Those pics? We already saw them.

I think you can argue BB knew Damian and Raven were close because it looks like BB was purposely trying to get cute/flattering pics of Raven to send to Damian. I'll point out BB gets a cute one of Nightwing and Star too but Raven is the only one to get a solo pic and we know by this point BB only (bb doesn't strike me as a guy that'd like two people at once) likes Terra.

Raven sharing cotton candy. Can be a parallel to the 03 cartoon. Or you can see it as Raven knowing Damian's past and wanting to share something sugary with him. I think it can be implied his training didn't involve a lot of sweets/childhood indulgence.

Damian sought Raven out to apologize and got nervous. Then he sat down to talk with her (which means she had the higher ground when floating). Damian only stood back up after Raven told him to leave her alone and he gets upset. Despite being prickly towards each other at first they end up being affectionate by the end.

Later they get a test baby (Titus) and don't actually date. About 12 months happens between Judas Contract and the Death of Superman. (Titus from puppy to full height would be about a year). Then there's a 6 month time skip.

[favefandomimagines]

I Know Places 5 (r.c)

Summary: Y/N becomes suspicious of Rafe, while JJ becomes suspicious of Y/N

Taglist: @luvrclub

AN: i think this has like three or four chapter left! But I feel like their self indulgent at this point lol

Previous Part

The Pogues’ house was bustling with the usual chaotic energy that came with living under one roof. Sand trailed in from the front porch, damp towels were slung over chairs, and the faint smell of sunscreen still lingered in the air. It was home—a messy, loud, and ridiculously nosy home.

That was what made sneaking around so damn difficult.

Y/N stood in her room, hands smoothing down the fabric of her dress, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest.

She wasn’t nervous about seeing Rafe. No, she was thrilled—her entire body buzzing with anticipation at the thought of being with him again.

What had her on edge was keeping it all under wraps.

Lying wasn’t something Y/N did often, especially not to JJ or the rest of the Pogues. They were her family. But this? This was something different.

This was hers.

And while she wished she didn’t have to keep it a secret, she knew that the moment JJ found out, all hell would break loose.

Kie sat cross-legged on Y/N’s bed, watching with her usual amused expression as Y/N fussed with her earrings. “You’re like a lovesick puppy.”

Y/N turned, her lips twitching into a sheepish smile. “I know. It’s weird. A guy has never made me feel like this before.”

Kie let out a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s what’s weird. Not the fact that Rafe Cameron is the one doing it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She knew how it sounded. Hell, if someone had told her a year ago that she’d be sneaking around to go on dates with Rafe, she would have laughed in their face.

But here she was.

Kie leaned back on her elbows, her teasing expression softening into something more sincere. “I’m sorry you feel like you have to hide this.”

Y/N sighed, glancing down at her hands. “It’s JJ I’m worried about. You know how he is. I’m positive he’d disown me as his sister if he found out.”

Kie frowned slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. “I mean… he would freak out,” she admitted. “But disown you? C’mon, Y/N. He’d never do that.”

Y/N gave her a skeptical look. “Kie, he still holds a grudge against the guy who took my sandwich in fourth grade. What do you think he’d do if he found out I was seeing his mortal enemy?”

Kie winced. “Okay, fair point.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Kie hesitated, then said, “Sarah wouldn’t judge you. After all, Rafe is her brother.”

“Maybe,” Y/N murmured, twisting a ring around her finger absentmindedly. “I don’t know. I’m just… scared.”

Scared of what JJ would say.

Scared of what everyone would say.

Scared that if she said it out loud, it would all fall apart.

Kie sighed, sitting up straighter. “I get it. And I won’t say anything. Just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

Y/N met her gaze, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Kie grinned, nudging her with her foot. “Now, tell me—what’s the plan for this mystery date?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I actually have no idea. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

Kie raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Okay, I take back some of my judgment. The boy’s got game.”

Y/N chuckled, standing up. “I’m meeting him at the lighthouse.”

Kie stretched her arms over her head. “Well, have fun. And forget about all the JJ-and-Pogue drama tonight, okay? Just enjoy it.”

Y/N smiled, feeling some of the tension ease from her chest. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

With that, Y/N grabbed her bag, took one last deep breath, and left the house—excitement bubbling beneath her skin as she headed for the lighthouse.

She had no idea what Rafe had planned.

But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t worried about it.

||

The lighthouse stood tall against the dusky sky, its beacon flashing intermittently over the ocean, casting fleeting streaks of golden light across the water. The waves crashed rhythmically against the rocky shore, the salty air thick and humid, sticking to Y/N’s skin as she stood near the railing.

She wrapped her arms around herself, a small shiver running through her—not from the cold, but from the anticipation.

She had never waited for a guy like this before, had never cared enough to feel this kind of nervous excitement. But Rafe Cameron had changed that.

She glanced down at her phone. No message yet.

A small smile tugged at her lips. He’d be here soon.

But before she could fully settle into that thought, another voice broke the quiet.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Her spine stiffened at the sound.

She turned, her eyes landing on a figure standing just beyond the lighthouse’s glow.

Barry.

His presence was unwelcome, but not surprising.

She took him in—black eye, fresh cuts on his face, the signature smirk that she hated—and immediately rolled her eyes.

Great.

“What do you want, Barry?” Y/N asked flatly, crossing her arms.

Barry let out a low chuckle, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a flick of his lighter. The orange ember flared to life, casting sharp shadows across his bruised face.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he exhaled, smoke curling around his words. “Just here to meet a buyer. Didn’t think I’d run into you.��

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Yeah? Well, I wish you hadn’t.”

Barry let out an amused hum, taking another drag from his cigarette. His gaze flickered over her, assessing. “So… meeting Country Club?”

She clenched her jaw. He wasn’t supposed to know about that.

“What’s it to you?” she shot back, voice steady despite the slight unease crawling up her spine.

Barry smirked, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. “Be careful around him,” he said casually. “Rumor has it he’s made enemies of the wrong people.”

Y/N froze.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as Barry’s words echoed in her mind.

Enemies.

She thought about Rafe’s break-in, the way he brushed it off when she asked about it. She had pushed the thought aside, convinced herself that if it was serious, he’d tell her.

But now…

Now, doubt crept in.

Before she could press for more, the sound of an approaching truck rumbled through the quiet night.

Barry glanced toward the headlights as they approached, then smirked. “Speak of the devil.”

Rafe’s truck came to a slow stop, the engine cutting off as he stepped out.

His usual cocky smirk was absent. Instead, his face was set in a sharp, serious expression, his blue eyes locking onto Barry with immediate suspicion.

Barry, ever the instigator, gave him a lazy salute. “Later, Maybank.”

Then, with one last glance at Y/N, he turned and walked off, disappearing into the darkness.

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. “Fucking waste of space.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered between her and Barry’s retreating form. His jaw tightened. “Was he bothering you?”

Y/N shrugged, shifting her weight. “Just Barry being Barry.”

“Stay away from him,” Rafe said immediately.

Y/N turned to face him fully, furrowing her brows. “I can handle myself, Rafe. Especially with Barry.”

“I know you can,” Rafe said, his voice softer now, his fingers flexing at his sides. “It’s just… I don’t trust him.”

Something about the way he said it made her pause.

There was something underneath those words.

Something he wasn’t saying.

But before she could push, Rafe exhaled, shaking off the tension. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers, grounding himself.

“Come on,” he said, giving her a small, lopsided smile. “Let’s go enjoy our date.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding.

As they walked toward the truck, fingers still laced together, she couldn’t shake Barry’s warning.

Rafe had made enemies of the wrong people.

And for the first time, Y/N started to wonder just how deep his secrets went.

||

Rafe led Y/N down a narrow, overgrown path through the dunes, their hands intertwined as the sound of crashing waves filled the air. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the sand, and Y/N couldn’t help but marvel at the scene in front of her.

They reached a small cove where the beach curved into a secluded spot, hidden from view by a rocky outcrop. The waves were rough here, the tide stronger than most places along the Outer Banks, which was why no one ever came.

But Y/N’s eyes widened when she saw what was waiting for her.

A full picnic was set up on the sand—blankets, plush pillows, a wicker basket filled with food, and a cooler with drinks. A lantern flickered beside the setup, even though the sun had yet to fully set.

“You did all this?” Y/N asked, looking up at Rafe in disbelief.

Rafe smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told you I was pulling out all the stops.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What, trying to impress me?”

Rafe grinned. “Is it working?”

Y/N bit her lip to hide her smile. “Maybe.”

Rafe reached for her hand again, pulling her toward the picnic. They kicked off their shoes, settling onto the blanket as the salty breeze played with Y/N’s hair.

The tension of the past week—sneaking around, the secrecy, the weight of knowing she couldn’t share this with her friends—melted away as she watched Rafe pull out sandwiches, fruit, and a bottle of wine.

“You really went all out,” Y/N mused, watching as he poured them both a drink.

Rafe shrugged. “Figured if I’m gonna convince you to go on a third date with me, I have to keep setting the bar high.”

Y/N smirked. “Bold of you to assume there will be a third date.”

Rafe handed her a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “There will be.”

Y/N shook her head, but she was grinning as she took a sip of wine.

As they ate, they talked—really talked.

Y/N had always been curious about Rafe’s childhood. She had grown up seeing the Cameron family from a distance, watching the way Ward Cameron carried himself like he owned the island, the way Sarah seemed so effortlessly perfect in everyone’s eyes. But Rafe? Rafe had always been different.

“Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if things were different?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice softer now.

Rafe looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated before continuing. “Like, if your dad had been different. If you and Sarah had been closer. If you had grown up… I don’t know, happier.”

Rafe exhaled a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “I think about it all the time.”

Y/N watched him carefully, noticing the way his jaw tensed.

Rafe leaned back on his elbows, staring out at the waves. “Ward was… complicated. He wanted perfection. From all of us. And I was never going to be that.”

Y/N swallowed, setting her wine glass down.

“He wanted Sarah to be the golden child. The one who got everything right. Me? I was the disappointment,” Rafe continued, his voice bitter. “And when I started screwing up, when I started proving him right… I just leaned into it.”

Y/N hesitated before reaching out, placing her hand over his. “Do you think you’d want to be back in Sarah’s life?”

Rafe was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Part of me does. Part of me thinks it’s too late.”

Y/N squeezed his hand. “It’s never too late.”

Rafe looked at her, his blue eyes filled with something unreadable.

After a long pause, he said, “You wanna know the truth?”

Y/N nodded.

“I hated JJ,” Rafe admitted, his voice raw. “Not because of the Pogue-Kook shit. But because I envied him. I envied you.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Rafe nodded, exhaling slowly. “I knew about your dad. I knew your childhood was shit. But you had each other. No matter how bad it got, you had someone who loved you. And then you had John B, Kie, Pope… you had family.”

His jaw clenched. “I never had that.”

Y/N’s heart ached.

She had spent her whole life thinking Rafe Cameron was just another rich kid with a perfect life. But now, sitting here with him, hearing the pain in his voice, she realized how wrong she had been.

Without thinking, she reached up, cupping his cheek. “You have me.”

Rafe inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him.

And then, before she could second-guess it, he leaned in.

Their lips met softly, hesitantly at first. But then, something shifted. Rafe’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer as the warmth of the moment wrapped around them.

Y/N melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her heart hammering against her ribs.

When they finally pulled away, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I do.”

Y/N felt like she was floating.

For so long, she had been the outlier—the one always watching from the sidelines while her friends found love, found people who made them feel wanted.

But here, with Rafe?

She felt like someone’s first choice.

And she never wanted the feeling to end.

But as the date wound down, Y/N found herself thinking back to Barry’s words.

"Rumor has it he’s made enemies of the wrong people."

She had asked Rafe about the break-in before, and he had brushed it off. But something about Barry’s warning gnawed at her.

Rafe had enemies. That much she knew.

But how deep did it go?

She wanted to ask him again, but as she looked at him—his relaxed posture, the small smile lingering on his lips—she stopped herself.

She didn’t want to taint what they had with suspicion.

She was happy.

She felt wanted.

For once, she didn’t feel like JJ’s sister, or the second choice to her friends. She felt like herself.

So, for now, she pushed the doubt away.

But some part of her knew that it wouldn’t stay buried forever

||

JJ had spent the better part of the day pretending he wasn’t bothered.

Pretending he didn’t notice the way his sister had been slipping away lately.

Pretending he didn’t care that she had been sneaking off, coming back home with that same dazed look in her eyes, like she was keeping something from him.

But JJ wasn’t stupid.

He knew Y/N better than anyone.

And something was off.

At first, he chalked it up to stress. Running the shop, dealing with the summer Tourons, handling his bullshit on a daily basis—it was a lot.

But then he noticed the way she had been glued to her phone. The way she had started making excuses to disappear for hours at a time. The way Kie, who never kept secrets from him, had been acting weird around Y/N, like she was walking on eggshells.

Something was going on.

The house was empty when the rest of the Pogues decided to head to The Wreck for the night.

Kie had tried to get him to come along, a little too eagerly, which only made JJ more suspicious.

“Nah, I’ll catch up later,” he had said, stretching out on the couch like he had no other plans.

Kie hesitated. “You sure? Free food, my treat.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you offer me free food?”

Kie forced a smile. “Since I’m feeling generous.”

JJ stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m good. I’m just gonna chill for a bit.”

He saw the flicker of hesitation in her eyes before she nodded. “Alright. See you later.”

The second the door shut behind her, JJ sat up, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N had been hiding something.

And now he had the house to himself to wait for her.

JJ sat in the dimly lit living room, bouncing his leg impatiently, flipping a lighter between his fingers. He hated this. He hated feeling like he didn’t know his sister anymore.

They had been through everything together.

Y/N was his person. His twin. His built-in best friend.

And now, she was keeping something from him.

JJ knew she had been lying about the “errands.” She had been gone all day.

What the hell was she really up to?

It was nearly 9 PM when JJ heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

He stayed completely still as Y/N stepped inside, her movements careful and quiet, like she was trying not to wake anyone up.

JJ watched as she reached for the light switch, completely oblivious to his presence.

The second the warm glow illuminated the room, her eyes landed on him.

She jumped, her hand flying to her chest. “Jesus, JJ, you scared the hell out of me.”

JJ didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“You’ve been gone for a while.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it.

Y/N swallowed, her expression shifting just slightly—so slightly that most people wouldn’t catch it. But JJ did.

“I told you I was running errands,” she said, too quickly.

JJ tilted his head. “You’ve been gone all day, Y/N.”

Her posture stiffened, and JJ knew he was right. He knew she was hiding something.

“Errands don’t take that long,” he continued, his blue eyes locked onto hers. “So where were you really?”

Y/N hesitated.

It was the first real hesitation JJ had seen from her in a long time.

And it confirmed everything.

She was hiding something.

JJ leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know you suck at lying.”

Y/N bit her lip, glancing toward the hallway like she was debating just walking away.

But JJ wasn’t letting this go.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look… if something’s wrong, you can tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, and for a second—a split second—JJ thought she was going to tell him the truth.

But then she exhaled, her expression shifting into something unreadable.

“I was just busy,” she said simply. “That’s all.”

JJ’s stomach twisted.

She wasn’t telling him the truth.

He could see it in her eyes.

And that realization hit him harder than he expected.

JJ trusted Y/N more than anyone. But right now? He wasn’t sure if she still trusted him.

His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to keep his voice even. “Alright,” he said, standing up. “If you say so.”

Y/N blinked, clearly surprised that he was letting it go so easily.

JJ gave her a small, almost knowing smile.

But the thing was—he wasn’t letting it go.

Not even close.

He had every intention of figuring out what the hell was going on with his sister.

And whoever—or whatever—was pulling her away from him?

They were about to have a serious problem

[chaoticbardlady99]

Twists and Turns (Astarion x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Astarion initially rejected you and you turn your attentions elsewhere- to his surprise.

By the time Astarion realizes his feelings for you- it’s too late. You and Gale are happy together and Astarion would never ruin that for you, but sometimes fate surprises us. Especially Astarion- who never thought he’d see Gale as a hero.

CW: Character death, angsty?, fluffy, crotch goblins (children)

Pairings: Gale Dekarios x F! reader and Astarion Acunin x F! reader- also some dadstarian

✨lightly edited✨

Author note: I was inspired by @thedomesticanthropologist post regarding an unconventionally attractive Tav. I didn’t really touch on it too much, but it is apart of the story to an extent. Please be kind because my writer’s anxiety has been so bad I almost deleted my blog entirely 🫣

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 💜

Photo belongs to @venenum-cadaverinus on Tumblr

By the time Astarion had fallen in love with you- it had already been too late.

Oh he flirted with you, called you beautiful when he believed you weren’t much to look at, and then you had come up to ask if he would want to go look at stars with you the night of the Tiefling party. Astarion couldn’t get himself to even pretend he wanted to indulge in you. He assumed you were only wanting to sleep with him and he was not about to sleep with you just because you asked. Astarion no longer has to do anything anyone asks of him.

“I have standards.”

Your face falls and the book of Astronomy in your hand nearly slips.

“Oh- I,” you clear your throat, “I’m sorry to have bothered you then.”

He had rolled his eyes when he came back from being with whatever Tiefling woman he had approached- you had been crying quietly in your tent.

Astarion found the whole thing unattractive and well, really he found you unattractive. Astarion has a preference for traditionally beautiful people and you would never be that. You would surely get over it eventually and if he’s lucky, you’ll just be an annoying kicked puppy who will do anything for him like you have been since he met you.

So, for whatever reason, Astarion assumed everything would go back to normal the next day and the two of you would fall back into the usual routine- he sits and reads while you eat breakfast in the mornings, he talks about whatever book he is reading, you ask him questions about himself, and then you go about your days separately until going through the same motions for dinner. Astarion fights next to you and you protect each other. You are smitten with Astarion and he has you wrapped around his pinkie finger like he wanted.

So imagine his surprise when you don’t come out for breakfast or dinner at all- at least not to sit with him. All of a sudden, Gale is with you all the time. He had seen the man come up to you while you were holding your book and he hugged you- the wizard even glared at Astarion while he was doing it.

Astarion upped his game after that, but nothing he said ever reached you anymore. He’d call you beautiful and he’d watch you visibly flinch. He asked you to go to bed with him and you told him no- you wanted to be with someone who thought you were special and beautiful. Astarion said he does think that. You got angry with him and told him to stop lying- go back to “having standards”. Your anger stung and he knew it was justified, but the little pieces of your trust he could get eventually blossomed into a friendship. Only, now he wanted more and Astarion was entirely infatuated with you.

He had decided to tell you how he felt one night before the descent into the Shadow Cursed Lands, but you were quickly swept away by Gale the moment Astarion tried to come talk to you.

Gale was dragging you off somewhere very specific and when Astarion let his nosiness get the best of him- it dawned on him that he had truly lost you 2 months ago when he had said what he said.

You peer through a telescope excitedly, telling Gale about all your favorite constellations and why. He shares his own knowledge with you and you are wide eyed, fascinated- leaning in to hear more. Gale’s own lips hover over yours and the two of you are smiling at each other widely. Astarion thinks he’s going to throw up when Gale kisses you- not because he’s disgusted, but because it occurred to him that he might have thrown away the only person who actually gave a shit about Astarion enough to love him and he broke your heart. Fitting that he is the one hurting now.

Maybe that’s really all you had wanted- to share something you love with Astarion. You wanted to feel like he gave a shit about you too and he said, “I have standards”!? What in the hells is wrong with him!?

The part of him- the less prideful part- wishes he had gotten to see you this way for him. Why did he spend so much time focusing on you knowing him? Why didn’t he take the time to see you this way? Know you this way when you wanted him.

Gale said something that made you laugh heartily as he brushed stray hair from your face, his hands gripping your hips, and you gasped when he kissed you again. The sound fills Astarion with warmth, but makes him feel sick at the same time. That should be him with you, not Gale.

You went from being plain, unattractive and uninteresting to the single most beautiful individual he has ever met. Astarion found himself hanging onto your words (even the angry ones) and yearning to be next to you.

You continued to do your dance with Gale while Astarion continued his own dance with you. When you threaten that horrible Drow on his behalf, Astarion has to accept it- he has well and truly fallen for you.

Astarion decided he would tell you when you got back from whatever excursion you were on with Gale. He had to at least try. Besides, what could Gale possibly show you in the Shadow Cursed Lands?

Only it had been too late- neither one of you came back for hours and when you did, the two of yours’ scents were mingled so closely together he could barely distinguish you from Gale. You began sleeping in the man’s tent, holding his hand during meals, exchanging kisses, etc.

Astarion, on the other hand, had taken the unofficial title of ‘best friend’. It had stung quite a bit, but he happily took whatever scraps you could give him. It was hardly scraps though- Astarion feels emotionally cared for, protected, and respected by you at all times. Besides, Astarion has a feeling that, if anything happened between you and Gale, there was a very good chance for Astarion to take over that space in your heart again.

The love test at the circus proved it- you had been more compatible with Astarion than Gale. Thankfully you had gone at separate times (Astarion and Gale have since become friendly enough so Astarion doesn’t have to worry about losing you). You had avoided Astarion’s eyes while Gale boasted about the Love Test results.

You had been the first one to wake up and attack his siblings when they had tried to kidnap him. Astarion had never seen you look that angry before in the entire time he has met you- you were even angrier than when Araj had pestered him.

You admitted to Astarion later that day that you hadn’t been sleeping well- you were worried about Cazador or his siblings showing up and that you wouldn’t get there in time. It had been haunting you since the minute you stepped foot in Rivington.

When he finally did face Cazador, it was with you at his side and when he finally killed the man- you didn’t deny Astarion the hug he begged you for telepathically. You held him up as he sank against you and you said soothing words- you told him how proud of him you were. You still reminded him everyday after when he expressed doubt.

Astarion was certain he would watch you grow old with Gale and have a family. So Astarion promised himself that he will love you dutifully regardless and protect you and your family like you have protected him. When you pass? He isn’t sure what he will do then, but he has eternity to be without you and Gods only knows long to be around you.

Until the Wizard of Waterdeep just had to throw him a curve ball the night before the battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion was sitting by the roaring fireplace as he tried not to make it obvious to Gale that he’s silently pining for you. You were laughing and telling jokes with Karlach and Wyll- Shadowheart joining in and eventually Lae’zel. Your laughter is probably one of Astarion’s favorite sounds.

Only because he doesn’t know what you sound like moaning underneath him.

“You love her.”

Astarion’s train of thought broke and he gawked at the Wizard.

“I-um,” Astarion cleared his throat, “I’m afraid you have the wrong impression. Obviously I’m looking at…”

Actually now that he’s looked over there, none of them were believable enough for him to get out of this one.

“Yes- yes fine. I love her,” Astarion scowls, “you won, I love her and get to watch you live a whole life with her. Congratulations.”

“Astarion- I didn’t say that because I want to rub it in your face. I’m saying it because I have a favor to ask- for Tav’s sake.”

Astarion felt himself freeze. He was silently praying that Gale wasn’t going to tell him to stay away from you- to walk away and never come back after the events of tomorrow. It would be the thing that kills Astarion.

“Okay,” he says wearily, “I’m listening.”

“We all know it’s possible that some of us won’t be leaving this journey alive tomorrow.”

Is he suggesting you might die tomorrow? Astarion still stays right next to you during fights- no one even gets within an inch of you if he can help it.

“If it comes down to it and I need to use my orb,” Gale says solemnly, “I need you to take Tav and run- I don’t care if you need to drag her, cast sleep on her, anything as long as it’s painless.”

Astarion stared at the man blankly. He’s asking Astarion to drag you away as you watch your boyfriend sacrifice himself for the sake of the greater good of humanity.

“Why- why are you asking me? And not Karlach or-“

“Because I know you won’t tell her that I’m considering it as an option,” Gale said before adding, “and I am very aware that she loves you too. She’s going to need you if I die.”

“Need me?,” Astarion laughs in disbelief, “Gale, I broke her heart and I’m about to lose the only way I can walk in the sun tomorrow. It would be stupid of her to-“

“No, it would not,” Gale frowns, “she loves you, Astarion. Stop pushing her away.”

“You aren’t dead yet, Wizard,” Astarion said with an edge to his tone, “there is still a possibility that there is a Dekarios wedding in the foreseeable future.”

Gale smiled sadly at Astarion.

“That is the hope- is it not?” Gale got up to join you and the others, “you’ll remember that you deserve to be loved for her- won’t you?”

Astarion watched the man walk off like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb onto Astarion’s world. He watched as you smiled brightly at Gale and your hands intertwined with his.

But he also caught you looking over at him with a welcoming, pleading smile. Astarion smiles back and joins- hoping that he won’t be part of the reason that smile fades ever again.

*******************************

Gale looks at Astarion- they are losing. Tav is hurt, but still trying to sling spells and cantrips. Karlach and Wyll are becoming cornered quickly, Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. Even with all of the support they brought and it still wasn’t enough.

You bastard, Astarion telepathically says to Gale, you really are going to make me the bad guy, huh?

Ha!, Gale thinks sadly, you have it turned around. It has been a privilege to know you, Astarion. Take care of Tav for me.

Same to you, Gale- I promise she’ll be safe.

Gale announces to everyone they need to leave. You run towards Gale screaming for him to stop- that he doesn’t have to do this, but Astarion intercepts you.

“ASTARION- PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW,” you scream while slamming your fists into his back, struggling to make him release you, “PUT ME- GALE PLEASE- I LOVE YOU!”

Gale smiles at you with all the love in the world.

“I love you too, Tav. Always and forever.”

Gale casts a spell and like that- they are on the docks. You are screaming and throwing magic- desperate to get back to Gale as Astarion holds you close to his chest.

“I hate you!” You scream as you push Astarion weakly, “ I… I-“

You look at him pitifully and Astarion’s heart aches with yours. Astarion pulls you back towards him in a tight hug and holds you. You sob into his chest and hold him back with equal ferocity.

Astarion’s ability to comfort you only lasts about five minutes before the sun begins to burn him again and Karlach is dying- Wyll convinces her to go to Avernus with him. Astarion races to the shadows- certain that he is about to go into the darkness alone as he hides behind the crates.

He cradles his burning hand to his chest and hisses through the pain. Astarion doesn’t register the frantic footsteps approaching him.

“ASTARI- oh my Gods.”

He looks up at you in disbelief as you get down to your knees next to him and begin pulling out healing scrolls, potions, anything you can think of that might help.

You stay next to him until it’s time to move to a different set of shadows and you stay with him every moment afterwards.

You spend the next 6 months together starting your search for a Ring of the Sunwalker in the Underdark- successfully assassinating a very powerful Drow Priestess for it right before Wither’s party.

When you head back to Baldur’s gate together- Astarion sells all of Cazador’s shit and his castle. He invites you to live with him and you pick a house together.

Your emotions have been foreign and not easy for Astarion to handle over the last 6 months and even a year after moving in together, but he thinks about how crazy he would feel if you had also died that day and so he has weathered every storm you throw at him.

Astarion sits as you angrily rant about how unfair it was for him to make that decision without you. You wanted a choice, some kind of say, and you even occasionally just screamed at Astarion for preventing you from staying with him.

This continues even after the party that Wither’s throws. Tara adored you just as Gale had predicted and his holograph healed a piece of you, but now your grief is all consuming. You lay in bed for days on end and you stop eating or even coming out of your room. Scratch lays next to you dutifully until Astarion takes him out to use the restroom. They have to disguise the poor dog as a cat, but he doesn’t seem to mind very much.

Astarion lets you sit and do what you need to do, but after day 10, he finally needs to help you feel like a person again- in whatever way he can. So he runs you a bath and he helps you numbly walk towards it. It’s been about 30 minutes since he left you upstairs. He considered offering to help you, but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing a line.

You walk downstairs moments later and quietly say his name. Astarion looks up at you and smiles- you took a bath.

“Well, well, look at you,” Astarion teases, “you sure clean up nicely.”

You laughed hoarsely at his joke and sat next to him. Astarion doesn’t move- he wants to pull you into his lap, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries.

“Can- would you-,” you choke on the lump in your throat, “would you hold me, please?”

Astarion’s face softens as you begin to sniffle and your shoulder begins to shake with the sobs you are trying to hold back.

“Of course, Darling.”

You crawl into his lap and you lean the side of your head against his unbeating heart. Astarion just goes back to reading his book, enjoying the comfortable silence and how your body finally seems to have relaxed. You’d been so tense for the last two years- constantly on the verge of breaking in half, but he knows how resilient you are. He knows your strength and he knew you would get out of it eventually- even if only for a little while at a time.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice sings through the air and is like music to his ears. You sound like you again- tired and still a little melancholy- but you nonetheless.

“Well, Darling, I thought it might be worth learning about some of this astronomy nonsense a little over a year ago so we could talk about it when you felt better,” Astarion says, trying to say it as nonchalantly as possible, “I’ve come to really enjoy the topic.”

You beam at him and it’s the first time he’s seen a smile reach your eyes in what feels like eons. You quiz him, correct him, you tell him everything over the ‘stars’ and then some as you so horribly said. Astarion can’t help but find the moment to be so bittersweet.

He finally had the moment he wanted with you, but he didn’t think a single moment would cost a life.

************************************

“Elanora! Gale! Get back here you little-“

The twins giggle as they run from Astarion around the house. He understands what people mean by terrible twos now.

It’s been a little over 10 years since Gale died. In that time- Karlach had her engine fixed and five years ago, you found a Wish scroll for Astarion. Being a living breathing human again was a very difficult adjustment for the first two years. It’s been 3 years now and it’s not as difficult, but he did forget about the whole pregnancy thing.

It had been a massive shock when you fell pregnant a few months after you and Astarion had gotten married a little over two years ago. Astarion had been so focused on the proposal being perfect that it took longer for him to ask than he wanted.

You giving birth was probably the most terrifying experience of his life and you very well almost died, but by some miracle, you lived through the gruesome endeavor. He gives his thanks to Shadowheart, Isobel, and Dame Aylin. Astarion suspects Gale might have had a hand in it too because you had been out cold, but woke up with tears in your eyes and told Astarion that A. Gale says hello and B. how dare he think you’d just abandon two children with him like that. You are responsible “dammit!”

Astarion is so grateful you didn’t die giving birth to his children. He loves the little crotch goblins to death, but you are the only one they really listen to. You always tell him it’s because he gives in- Astarion argues “how could I not!? Have you seen them!? They are adorable!”

Scratch tried to help him initially after you left to go spend time with Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel at Elfsong Tavern. The poor dog didn’t last much longer than Astarion- hiding under the bed from the monstrous toddlers that are definitely from his gene pool.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind saying n-“

“They are my children, Darling,” he said all too confidently, “I can handle time alone with my children!”

Evidently there is a difference between handling and surviving- Astarion would consider himself trying to survive. He should have taken Halsin’s offer to hang out- maybe the twins would listen to their Uncle more than him.

Astarion eventually caught them, bathed them, read them a book, and got them to bed. The minute Gale fell asleep around 11:30 pm was the same time you came home.

Astarion came down the stairs and you began to laugh as quietly as you could behind your hand. He leers at you playfully.

“Did you have fun, my Star?” You tease.

“Once I finally caught them- yes,” he says flatly.

You walk up to him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“Let’s go to bed- then you can tell me all about it and I’ll tell you all the hot gossip Karlach has heard from Wyll about the upper class in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Will it be in the paper tomorrow?”

“Oh yes,” you grin widely, “ oh yes it will.”

Astarion loves when you come back from meeting with Karlach- he always knows what’s happening before it even happens. It means he gets to watch everyone else be scandalized which is usually 1,000 times more entertaining than the gossip itself. One time- the paper had been so explicit that the next door neighbor (an elderly woman) quite literally died of shock after reading about an affair the Magistrate had with the Duke. Apparently she was a hard core supporter of the wives and never anticipated such ugly men to cheat on their wives (you may have found him using a talk to the undead spell on the poor woman).

You fall asleep faster than you anticipated- at least that’s what Astarion thinks. The moment you lay your head on his chest is the same moment you slowly, softly begin to snore as he tells you about the evening. You chuckle when he says he is going to need help cleaning up the water in the bathroom tomorrow.

These are the nights that Astarion finds himself looking up to the heavens and smiling sadly- thanking Gale for his sacrifice, for giving Astarion a life he never thought he would ever have.

Most importantly, he thanks Gale for you. For letting go of what future he could have had with you. For not asking you to stay and die with him.

Gale Dekarios is the only reason Astarion Ancunin believes in heroes at all.