#i may have written it but it lives in their minds and their memories

[cannibal-witchh]

Broken Tea Cup

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Alcohol, smoking, language, mental disorders, self harm, sex

Notes: Sorry, I have been infamously MIA as usual. I've been having a bad depression spell then I got hooked on playing SH2R and fell in love with this take of James. Because I've been down in the dumps I wanted to write on the perspective of being the one to love someone who is feeling sadness. Someone who battles with depression and guilt yet the reader will comfort and still see beauty in. It's always been a want of mine to expierence that kind of comfort when I have my depression spells. This does happen after Mary's death so just a heads up. Also, I haven't wrote in so damn long that it might show in my writing I'm pretty scattered brain. Thanks for checking out my story!

James. That name, that awful name. A name that drew from her chapped pale lips during her final moments. That name, which was accompanied with a desperate plea. A weak collapsing beg that was extinguished under goose down. James. That name drifted in the corridors of his dissociation, and reeled him back to reality.

"W-what?", James stuttered realizing he had another dissociative episode. Your eyes drew down to his hands, another cigarette was laced between his pointer and middle finger. His eyes followed your's, and shame spread across his face. " Y/N, I'm sorry...", his eyes darted to the ground, and he crouched down to extinguish the cigarette. " I'm having a really bad spell, Y/N. I'm so sorry...", his eyes grew glossy, you could see pink pooling under the skin of his nose, and his voice grew nasally. "James, please.", your hands reached out to cup his face. " You aren't a bad person. You are human. You may not have had the right to make the decision you did...but,", you were interrupted with a sniffle from James. His eyes shut tight, as tears began to run down his cheeks, and his hands met your's. You felt him tremble, his hands were shaking, tarnished with the scent of tobacco and callouses. " But, baby...thats your weight to bear. And everyday you punish yourself for it because you are sorry. This eats at you so much that you forget to live each day while you can. You aren't a bad person James. Give yourself some kindness.", you comforted him, bringing your forehead to press against his. His hair was matted together from anxiety sweat, and his eyes continued to remain closed. He refused to look at you. He was afraid he'd look back up to see her. See her in her frail and brittle state. How could he move on? While she was dead. Murdered. Move in with a healthy, warm, and lively woman. While his late wife was buried in the ground with her lasts memories being her worst. Move in with a woman, who possibly could bare children, dance, drink, make love, and who could give him comfort. Something she was unable to give him. He felt so wrong. How could he? All those memories were still there, yet he lives a new life as if none of it ever happened.

" I didn't show her kindness..."

" Love, please, you need to understand. There were so many emotions, and so much pain. I know you will never let this go but understand...she's no longer hurting. ", you couldn't pull anymore words together. Nothing would persuade him to move forward. He didn't feel a glimmer of comfort from those words. She's no longer suffering. That reverberated in his mind.

He let out a cough from all the weeping. His face reddened with grief and torment. " Let's go inside. It's about to rain.", you lightly held his hands and guided him into the house. His hands were clammy, skin stuck to your's. It didn't bother you, however, you didn't plan to release his hands from your's. " Sit.", you commanded as he sat on the edge of the bed still holding your hands tightly.

" I will never be her. I accept that. I don't punish you for still feeling the way you do for her. Things were complicated and difficult. You two had a life together. But James...I adore you. I want to be there for you until you are tired of me. Don't burden yourself with all these emotions. Let me take on some.", you felt his hands twitch, he seemed as though panic had spread all over his body. He finally looked up at you, sad glistened red rimmed eyes, and dried tears. " Ok.", was all he mustered in his response. His awkwardness still lingered even in his state of mind. He was never gifted with words. You knew this though. His actions showed his appreciation for you, not his words.

" I don't deserve another chance...another shot at having someone in my life like you.", he began fidgeting with your fingers. His eyes laying into your's. You could see all his brokenness. Every chip and crack inside him. All the hurt and ache bleeding through. He was a deeply broken man, and yet, you couldn't deny your adoration for him. " I wish I could promise you a wonderful life. But you...you've given me what I haven't given you. Unconditional love.", he felt so much guilt suffocating him, his heart racing with the weight of regret. Clawing at his ribs ready to burst, all the build up of hurt clinging under the shell of James. "James. I know you care for me. You've done alot for me. Please stop comparing how you and I love differently. I promise you, your presence and love is something I'm so thankful for. I only ask that you can eventually provide yourself that level of kindness.", you knew from behind his blue eyes that would never happen. His eyes clearly read there was no chance even a quarter of him could give himself love like what he scrapped along to give you.

His face looked defeated, he was staring at the ground, uncertain where his eyes should even rest. His hands still continuing to figet with your fingers. His leg bouncing up in down, slightly rattling the mattress " Y/N...can I please...touch you?", he awkwardly asked, his eyes tracing from the ground to your body to your eyes. He had always been touch starved. He would fall apart with hugs, kisses, and he'd lose himself intertwined under the sheets with you. You were lost at his question, he must've wanted to stop the conversation. It was traveling in a small circle. Be kind to yourself. Mary is no longer suffering. I can't forgive myself. I can't let go. You deserve better. All empty words and suggestions given at an already exhausted battle.

"Are you sure, we should?", you asked with surprise across your face. You didn't want to feel temptation drawing at your heart, but you couldn't deny...grief did bring people to want sex. The emotions with every thrust, every gasp, and every motion...it felt so genuine. Like the intimate acts the two of you indulged in was healing. Like he understood, he is allowed to feel pleasure. To be loved and held under such vulnerability. That even under such grim spells, he was still desired and loved in your eyes.

"I would like to...but only if you...", he continued his awkward mumbling. His eyes trailing away, trying to be discipline. and not draw his eyes to your night gown. The way it hung off your shoulders, scooping down to reveal so much chest, thin enough to show peaks forming when the temperature was low, short enough that it barely reached past your upper thigh, and barely giving modesty to your lace panties.

"Touch me.", you gave an approving look that sent him breaking from his refrains of exploring you. Your doe eyes gazing at him, exhausted from the tiring battle of begging James to allow kindness to himself. Maybe your body meeting with his would allow him this.

He let out a quiet mhm, and reached for your face with both large slender hands. He cupped both sides and led you towards his face. You saw his blonde eyelashes cover his sad blue eyes, before you closed your own eyes. A gentle kiss was exchanged. You heard him let out a low gasp. He brought one of his hands to the small of your back, bringing you into his lap. You could feel heat pressing against his jeans. A quick glance down, and you spotted small wet stain appeared beside his zipper. He was so easily excited, it didn't take long for him to leak desire.

He continued to kiss you, gently he nipped at your lower lip, and invited his tongue in your mouth. One of his hands reached to squeeze your thigh, his thumb rubbed circles along your soft skin. " God. I want you, Y/N.", apology could be heard in his voice, but also sincerity too. He did want you. He did find beauty in you. " Then show me.", you commanded as you guide your hands under his shirt to touch his bare chest. His heart raced, practically ready to burst from how fast it was pumping. He broke the kisses, his eyes half lidded gazing back at you. He brought both arms to hug you tightly, his nose pressed against the top your shoulder. His stubble tickled your skin. " Please lay down."

You obliged and fell slowly onto your back. James pulled his shirt over his shoulders, his body was lovely. It was realistic. Not some chiseled ab model. He had body hair littered from his chest to his lower abdomin. By no means had much toned mass, he had a bit of a lower stomach from drinking but he wasn't overweight. Just human. The heart breaking part of every time you witnessed James undress was what you saw on his arms. Deep scars. He used to self harm. He never liked visiting that topic but he would never deny that was a bad method of coping in his earlier years of grief.

You tried not to focus on that small detail of him. He was alive, that was a reminder of it. He unfastened his belt and let his jeans drop down to his ankles. He stepped out of them to crawl between your legs. You caught a glimpse of a very fevered erection. Reddened and dripping with lust. Or was it love? Maybe both. He hooked his fingers into your panties sliding them off you. " Please take off your top. I want to see all of you while I taste you.", his mouth was so close to it. His head so deep between your thighs, it was almost an art. You obeyed, your top flew across the room, until a gentle clash of fabric met the wooden floor. " Good girl."

He brought his lips to kiss your inner ones. His tongue traced the edge of your slit. Lightly it followed up and down until he started to softly tug on your labia with his teeth. He nudged your hips to lift a little more so he could savor your deeper. You followed, legs widened apart and your back arching up. Saliva ran down his chin, glistening his stubble in the dim light. He started to delicately suck on your labia and intermittently tease your entrance. Alternating between sucking and quickly lapping at your hole.

You couldn't resist a release of moans, your stomach rising and falling from your breaths increasing. You saw James occasionally glance to meet your eyes. It was like witnessing a starving creature consuming you without limitations. He moved his mouth to suck on your pussy, then tracing his tongue down to wriggle his tongue inside you. You felt your hips buckle, and your hands reached to grasp his soft blonde hair. You tugged it gently to get out a small groan from him. You felt his breath brush against your sensitive body. His tongue continued to press into you, his nose lightly rested on a patch of your pubic hair. James loved your natural side, if you missed shaving he couldn't possibly care. It was an opportunity to smell more of your natural musk. He felt more compelled to taste your pussy knowing he could smell your soft hair. Something about that interaction made him wild.

"Your a good boy, James.", you praised him. You saw him lift his face a bit with starry eyes. James had always been the more submissive one. The praise had always been a kink for him. " More, please.", he politely begged. His tongue dragged to your clit, circling it, and bringing himself to suckle it. " Sweet boy, you know how to please me so well. You are such a good boy.", it was hard to think clearly, with him roaming his tongue along your aroused body. " Am I really a good boy, momma?", he pushed himself up, until he hovered over you. His shoulders tensing from lifting up, his body towering over yours as he brought a hand to guide his dick into you. He brushed it along your slit, kissing your clit before he slid the head in. He was teasing you. "Yes, sweet boy, now go on, touch me as deep as you can.", you impatiently moaned, the rest of him slipped in. Both of you let out a loud gasp, your eyes both met. He brought his hands to lace with yours. " God, you're so beautiful.", his eyes watery with emotion.

"I could never stop fantasizing about you.", he was thursting relatively slow, just savoring you wrapped around him. It was a flustered feeling of craving him to go faster.

" Every day, I just think....uh...fuck..I think of how you're handcrafted for me. Your body sculpted to perfection."

" Aw, my sweet James.", your eyes grew emotional with his. Were you two making love? Was this no longer fucking?

"You're captivating. Every moan.", he thrusted deep.

" Every cry.", the thrust grew deep and you exchanged a yelp in return.

" Every time you shout my name.", he crashed his lips into your's forcing his tongue in. A guttural sound of satisfaction parting from his lips.

" Fuck. I can't take it.", you saw him tense, his eyes tightly shut. Hands gripping your's, nails practically digging into your skin. " Say your all mine."

" James. I'm all your's."

" Say you will have my children."

" I want to carry your babies."

A loud moan slipped from him, his thrusts were faster, the mattress creaked with each motion. You could feel his cock growing very hot as it stretched you apart.

" Can I...can I get you pregnant...now?", there was the awkward James. A few seconds of a dominant side came out and now it was back to the sweet shy man you knew.

You shot your eyes at his. He seemed as though he regretted the request, as if it was a slip of the tongue.

" You would be amazing dad, baby.", you gave a gentle smile. His eyes squinting as a smile formed across his face.

His thrusts were intense for several minutes before he grew sloppy. He brought his hands to slip under you body to bring you against his chest. He hugged you tightly as his pace became slower and drawn out. " I love you."

" I love you too, darling. It's ok, get me pregnant."

A desperate gasp slipped again, until it was followed with a hitch. His body tensed as you felt hot ropes deposit in you.

"Oh my god...I'm so sorry.", he panicked. His self worth reflecting back in his eyes. " James. James. James. Calm down. I want this. ", you grinned, pink dusted along your cheek and chest.

" You really want this?"

" I mean...its kinda a bit late. You already finished in me..."

"Oh....yeah...I guess that's...ermm..yeah. sorry."

" James...be quiet ok."

" Did you...cum?"

You let out a soft giggle and shook your head.

" Shit...I'm so selfish...I- I"

" We can go for another round in a bit, baby. Let's go grab some food."

" Oh...you want to go again?"

You nodded and rolled your eyes.

" Is this what you call pillow talk or after care?"

" Please don't say pillow talk."

Oh...yikes.

[captainkirkk]

If a fic author deletes their work, what’s your take on people who’ve previously downloaded the fics sharing their copies? I’m personally torn on it - I can understand both sides, but was wondering what others think.

This might be a controversial opinion, but I think it's fine to share downloaded copies of fics in certain situations. For example, if a friend mentions they have the fic and another friend asks them to email it to them. Or someone is desperately looking for their all time favourite fic that was deleted and asks for it on tumblr, I think it's okay for someone else to answer and offer to email it to them. I think, as authors, we need to accept that we give up a certain level of control when we publish a fic. Anyone can download it, even if we later delete the fic.

ALTHOUGH, I think posting it in a more public setting for other people to access (e.g., sending a link to a massive discord server) is probably a no-go?? Also, if the author has come out and explicitly asked people not to share downloads, then I'd say respect their wishes!!

[batshit-auspol]

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[seventeenpins]

⁵⁾ pressing the pads of their fingers into their lips in the aftermath, like they’re either trying to capture the feeling or banish it from memory

with x1!Logan pretty plssssss 😏

YES Ozzie omg thank you I love this ❤️

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: dbf!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3.4k summary: You’re a little obsessed with your attractive new neighbor. Unfortunately, he’s quite a bit older than you... And your dad's new best friend. content/warnings: non-mutant AU, unspecified age gap, written as x1 Logan, Scott is your dad (sorry), silence of the lambs spoilers???, yearning, tbh yall are as bad as each other, smut a/n: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble 🤷 ty to @ozarkthedog, the most perfect human 🩷

There’s a party roaring outside. As a general rule, your dad doesn’t like to throw parties often, but when he meets the man who’s moving in next door, he announces to you his plan. “Hosting a new neighbor helps to establish a good relationship!” he insists, and that’s that.

You’re sat in the living room, the space dimly lit, nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon as the glow of your latest Blockbuster rental illuminates your face.

"You even old enough to drink?" comes a voice just outside the door frame. 

You jump, beer sloshing gracelessly down your front. You turn to him, glowering. He’s silhouetted from the hallway and you can’t make out his face. “Yep,” you tell him, “I just have an immaculate skincare routine. Keeps me youthful.”

“So you’re hiding inside… because?”

You shrug. “Just like time to myself.”

He nods, and then strides over. He takes a seat beside you.

“Who are you, exactly?” you frown, looking him up and down.

“You mind?” he asks, smirking as he wiggles the beer you didn’t realize he was holding and nods towards the bottle opener. The audacity.

You glare and grab the bottle opener. He holds his hand out for it, but you withdraw. 

“Logan,” he laughs, “Logan Howlett. I just moved in next door.”

“Oh,” you drop the bottle opener into his hand, remembering your dad’s words. Establish a good relationship. “Oh, yeah, my dad was really excited about the party. Hope you’re enjoying it.”

His eyebrows raise. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Scott Summers.”

“No shit,” he frowns, “That guy sends a lot of emails.”

“That he does.”

Logan pops his bottle open. “Mind some company?”

“Long as you don’t mind watching Silence of the Lambs starting part way through.”

“Ohhhhh yeah, has he asked for a quid pro quo yet?”

“Aahh, a connoisseur,” you grin, “Yeah, just got past that part. I can rewind–”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “Let it play.”

You watch for a while in silence, but then start chatting again, swapping mundane questions. 

“So, Scott’s your dad, huh?” he asks, after a while.

“He sure is.”

“When he said he had a daughter, I guess I assumed someone younger.”

“Same skincare routine,” you deadpan.

He closes his eyes, holding back a laugh as he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “Yeah, he was still pretty young when I was born.”

“And what about…” he trails off, suddenly realizing tact may be appreciated.

“Dad’s a widower,” you explain simply.

Logan nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, watching as Lecter is revealed to be wearing the guard’s face.

“How about you?” you ask, “You got a wife? Husband? Girlfriend? Partner?--”

He turns to look at you and you peter off. “Nope.” 

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you. You’re not sure if he’s being suggestive, or if you’re reading into things. Maybe it’s just the reflecting light making his eyes look more provocative than he intends.

Either way, you feel your heartbeat surge and your stomach flip.

You turn away and try to affect nonchalance, try not to be suddenly mesmerized by this unexpected plot twist that is Logan. The movie is wrapping up, Clarice taking Lecter’s call as he pursues Chilton. You try to focus on it, the score, the costumes– but instead you notice the way he smells, musky and a little sweaty. It’s nice. A little dizzying.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

"You have any kids?" you ask, and immediately wonder if you waited too long to carry on the conversation.

"Shit," he snorts and shakes his head, "I hope not."

It takes you off guard. You burst out laughing.

He huffs, lifting the beer to his lips to hide a smile.

The credits begin to roll over the ending scene. 

With the bottle drained, he pats his thighs and stands up. "Alright, kid," he says, "I probably shouldn’t hide in here any longer.”

“My dad appreciates it,” you tell him, “Don’t wanna give him a heart attack when his guest of honor is nowhere to be found, soon to be discovered with his delinquent daughter.”

He picks up his empty and shakes his head, heading back outside. He calls back, “Oh, you’re trouble.”

Now that you’ve met him, you can’t get him out of your mind. 

When you see him again, a couple days later in daylight this time, you have to pick your jaw up off the ground. He’s taller than you realize, and he’s fucking built. And fuck, he’s handsome too. When he sees you, he waves a hand. “Hey Trouble,” he calls, “Keepin’ your nose clean?”

Weeks pass, and, much to your delight (and, admittedly, despair), your dad and Logan become close. 

Sundays become your favorite day. Sunday, you discover, is the day you can see Logan through your window, chopping a seemingly endless stack of firewood. 

One time, he catches you watching. To your utter shock, he winks at you. Knowing your eyes are on him, he lifts the hem of his beater to wipe his brow, and shoots you a shit-eating grin.

You had plans but that doesn’t matter now. All you can do is shove your hand into your panties and rub circles around your throbbing little clit until you cum with a muffled sigh, knowing he’s outside. Knowing there’s not more than a fence and a few feet between you.

Almost every night, his fire pit is alight and you see him reading, or strumming his guitar, or fucking whittling, serene in the smouldering glow, till the fire burns out and the night turns too cool to enjoy.

As the weeks pass, he’s at your house more and more. You wish your heart would stop doing flips whenever you see him on the sofa next to your dad, beer in hand, laughing at some story that’s being recounted.

He says hello to you each time he sees you, and always asks after you when you’re out.

“Oh, Logan says hi,” your dad will say over his morning toast, “Why does he call you Trouble? Tell me you haven’t been besmirching the Summers name?”

“Nah,” you grin, “Just the littlest besmirchment, at worst.”

His eyes narrow.

“C’mon, now, we want to-”

“Establish a good relationship!” you finish, grinning at the way he scowls.

“Smartass.”

“Hey, Trouble,” he’ll greet you, whenever you find him at your home.

“Hey neighbor.”

“You bein’ good?” he’ll ask.

“‘Course not,” you’ll wink, “Where’s the fun in that?”

You love that he calls you Trouble. That he has a name, just for you. It feels like it could almost be something, and so it’s almost enough. 

Before long, what you’d once feared was a one-sided attraction begins to morph into something different. 

It’s a Saturday, and you decide to wear a cute little dress. It’s a flowy thing that hugs all your curves in the very best way, hem barely falling past the curve of your ass.

Your dad just popped out for another six-pack, and you’re in the kitchen, making pasta salad. With your father gone, Logan isn’t subtle in the way he looks at you. You delight in how his eyes linger at the curve of your hip, the swell of your chest. It feels like a victory, the way he grits his jaw a little when you lean forward, cleavage on full display.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ wearing a naughty little dress like that?” Logan asks, scowling.

You raise an eyebrow and try not to let the way your heart starts to flutter affect you. “Thought you’d figured it out on day one – I’m trouble.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze lascivious. It’s the boldness of it. The two of you are alone, and you both know it.

“I think you like it,” you narrow your eyes.

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a deep breath. 

“God help me, I do.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then you both hear the latch, and the front door swings open.

Logan sits back, pretending as though nothing just happened.

You turn back to your salad.

You can see Logan in the sitting room, right in your line of sight. Your dad sits across from him, his back towards you. 

If you’re honest, you’re not sure exactly what compels you. 

You turn to face Logan, wave for him to catch your eye. He does, quickly, immediately attuned to you. Your dad doesn’t notice the way his eyes follow you. You hold a finger to your lips. His eyes dart between you and your dad, and he tries to focus on whatever his friend is saying to him. 

Slowly, you slip one strap down, and then the other. You can hear Logan’s breath hitch, which he covers almost believably with a gulp of his beer. Shimmying the bodice just a little, you expose your cleavage to near-dangerous depths. He’s grinding his teeth now, and it feels like victory.

Quickly, silently, you slip your top all the way down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. Your nipples, already hard, tighten. Logan is holding his can so tightly he’s crushing it in his fist. 

“You okay, buddy?” you hear your dad say, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice. In a couple of quick movements, you slip your top back up and turn back to your salad.

“Huh?” Logan asks quickly, and then looks at his beer. “Oh, shit–!” he grumbles, relaxing his grip gingerly.

It’s not till an hour later that your dad stands up and announces, “I’ll be right back, gonna hit the head.”

When he’s gone, Logan bolts up and marches over to you.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” he demands.

You shrug and, not so subtly, glance down at his crotch. You smirk at the way the front is tenting. Logan stares daggers as he adjusts himself, better hiding his hard-on.

“Some of you seems to like it,” you point out.

“Out here? With him here? You want your daddy to kill me?”

“No,” you promise, “No, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ you’re trouble–”

You both hear a toilet flush, and, moments later, footsteps descend on the stairs.

Logan adjusts himself again, and you blow him a kiss as he tromps back to his seat.

It’s a week before you see Logan again. He’s working late this week, apparently. Or maybe he’s just keeping his distance from you.

On Friday night, you debate going out. It’s been a while, and you could use a chance to unwind. But drinks are expensive, and– and you see a fire out your window. Logan sits out by his fire pit.

Without thinking, you put on your shoes.

It’s late, but not too late. Your dad’s on his recliner, game on TV, newspaper in hand.

“You headin’ out, kiddo?” he asks.

“Yep,” you lie, “Meeting a couple friends downtown. They’re picking me up!”

“Stay safe,” he calls after you, “Call me if you need a ride.”

“I will,” you tell him. “Don’t know if I’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me!”

You head out of the house and through your neighbor’s gate. 

Logan is golden, illuminated in the glow of the flames. He’s whittling something, angrily.

You realize then that your entrance has been near-silent on the soft grass. “Uh,” you clear you throat and knock on his fence as you approach him. “Hey, there, neighbor!”

Logan looks up and frowns when he sees you.

“You are makin’ me crazy, Trouble.” he huffs.

“Like, in a good way?” you ask.

He glares at you.

You come closer. “Can I sit?”

Logan budges up, putting down his whittling tools.

“So…” you venture “Am I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Logan scoffs.

“Nah.” he concedes, “I just don’t wanna make things complicated.”

You shrug. “They’re already complicated. You’ve seen my tits.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Goddammit, Trouble. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“They’re great tits,” you shrug.

“They are great tits.” Logan agrees.

The fire is crackling and the night is clear, stars hanging above you. You've been sitting side by side, quiet.

You don’t know what to say. Maybe there isn't anything to say. You’ve been patient, dammit. You just need to leap.

You pull him towards you and he moves without resistance.

He growls into your mouth, a needy animal sound. The scruff of his beard feels nice against your chin and you’re dizzy with his proximity, with his lips on yours.

After an eternity in the space of a single moment, you pull apart.

Logan stares at you, overwhelmed. His eyes are dark, his kiss-glistened lips catching the light as the fire dances. 

He presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips in the aftermath, as though either trying to capture the feeling, or banish it from memory.

Then, after a long moment, he’s on you. His hands grip you, grasp you, trace the shape of your body as though memorizing it by touch alone. 

“Inside. Now.” he growls, “Out here you’re askin’ for your daddy to catch us.”

You’re barely through the door before Logan is tugging at your clothes. You help him pull your top above your head, and you fumble with the button of your jeans as he unhooks his belt and yanks off his beater.

In a matter of moments, you’re both fully bare. His skin is hot against yours as he holds you to him, caging you against the door as he drags his teeth along your shoulder. His hard cock hangs against your thigh, heavy and thick and leaking.

Your clothes trail from the front door to his sofa. You don’t make it any further than that.

You’re a ticking time bomb, a siren, pulling him in, driving him wild. He wants and wants and wants, more than he ever knew he could. So much could be ruined; his friendship with your dad, the scrap of reputation he’s been building, his new life in this new place—

But now his want has turned into a need, and feeling you soft and pliant and oh so willing against him, he’d be a fool to turn back now.

Logan’s gropes at you, fingernails digging into the swell of your ass before cupping your pussy in one large palm. Rubbing up and down your cunt, he smears your wetness around.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he gasps. “Prettiest pussy I’ve seen.” 

Then he dips a finger into you and you groan and clench around it. He fucks you with it, deep, gentle strokes. He wasn’t wrong. As he fucks you with his finger, you feel how unbelievably wet you are. When he pulls back for a moment, you can see his hand is glistening with you, drips going all the way to his wrist.

“I can take more,” you promise, and he growls. 

“Can’t say shit like that,” he pants, “You’re sure you can take more. Can you take me? Don’t wanna hurt–”

“I can take you,” you assure him. If you’re honest, you don’t know if you can. What you do know is that you’re sure as fuck gonna try.

“How do you want me?” he asks, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control.

Ever the masochist, “Want you on top of me, my ankles round your shoulders. Need you deep.”

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You lay back as he positions himself between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your left thigh before he hikes it over his right shoulder, and a kiss to your right calf, folding you in half.

He strokes the dripping head of his cock against your folds.

“You ready?” he asks, and you whine in desperation, nodding a yes.

He presses in, notching the tip inside. You groan at the sensation, relaxing into it as he rocks his hips gently.

“Doin’ so good,” he praises, “I know, baby, it’s a lot.”

You writhe and moan. It is a lot, but you still want more. More of his cock, of his hands on your body, of his praise.

“Taking it so well,” he soothes, letting his cock slide that little bit deeper inside, pulling most of the way out and driving back in, pressing whispers in your ear as he fucks into you.

When his pelvis is pressed flush against you, he lets out a sigh. 

“Look at that,” he huffs, “Takin’ all of me.”

You look down and watch enraptured as he pulls out and presses back in, deeper than you ever imagined, and rolls his hips, coarse hair grinding against your clit and making you howl.

”Keep making those pretty noises for me, honey.”

”Need more-“ you beg.

He starts rocking his hips, building a solid rhythm. His strokes are deep and devastating, and with every thrust you can feel your wetness start to flood down your thighs and cream around the base of his cock.

The wetter you get, the harder he fucks into you, each plunge punctuated with your cries, of “Yes!”, “More—“, “Please, Logan, please—“

Generous to a fault, he gives you everything you beg for.

The frustration of these longing, pent-up weeks is almost a forgotten memory. As you build towards the peak of your pleasure, the man above you is an animal. He grunts and pants and fucks you deeper than you knew possible. Your whines and cries and demands taper off, replaced by soft moans that start to swell as he litters your collarbone with kisses and rubs a calloused thumb against your clit.

”I’m—“ you warn, struggling to form words, “I’m gonna—“

 “‘M close too,” he grunts, “Give it to me, baby, need to feel you— Please, baby—“

With his words and a firm press to your clit, you come with a sob, cunt squeezing around him in pulsing contractions.

He fucks you through it, muttering a steady stream of filth the whole time. “That’s it, that’s it, fuck you’re gushing, soaking this cock. You feel so fucking good, tight little thing stretched so nice around me, taking it all like you’re made for it—”

Before you can even get over the first climax, the second starts to build. Logan can feel the way your pussy twitches for him, the way your breath shudders as he drives into you with staggering thrusts.

”Gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He growls. “Good-“ a thrust, “fucking—“, thrust, “girl—“ thrust, “Just can’t get enough of this cock, can you?”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a cry as another orgasm overtakes you.

"That’s it,” the praises, still punctuating every word with a thrust, “That’s it! Let yourself feel it, let yourself feel good—"

You do, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. It’s overwhelming, the way it tears through you with no end in sight.

When he finally pulls out of you, you start to come back to yourself, your life-changing orgasm starting to wane.

He’s beautiful above you, covered in sweat, your wetness dripping down his thighs as he strokes his creamy cock.

With a groan, he comes on your stomach. You wrap your hand around his, stroking him gently till every drop is spent.

You make room for him on the sofa, uncaring that both of you are covered in sweat and fluids, and pull him down to rest in your arms.

"Fuck—" he exhales, and finally turns to face you again.

You stroke your fingers through your mussed hair.

"I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sternum.

There are so many things you’ll need to talk about, to work through. You are neighbors, after all, and you can’t do something like this without there being an aftermath.

But whatever is next can wait till morning.

Gently, he pulls himself up, and you with him. Holding each other close, you head to his bedroom. Without a word, you lay together, curled up in one another’s embrace.

He’s silent a long moment before speaking. "Is your daddy expecting you home tonight?” He asks. Neither of you want to think about that.

But thankfully, “No,” you tell him. “Told him not to wait up.”

"Oh, optimistic, were we?” He teases, and you look him up and down. His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, dark eyes, rumpled hair. This man you’ve grown so very fond of. 

“Yes,” you smile. “Yes, we are.”

Scott finds out, like, a day later and declares Logan his sworn enemy

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[duskyvenus]

444: Written in the Stars

A PAC about the person who is the one for you 💖 Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Open your eyes and choose the photo that speaks to you. Six piles left to right. This is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates.

Pile 1

Your person likes/has cats or cats can be significant in your relationship. This person really likes nature and animals. They like listening to music and may have a record player at home. Could also be an artist. A highly sensitive person. They see beauty in everything. They like taking photos to capture memories. May have brown hair or brown eyes. March and April might be important. This person is a bit melancholic and absentminded at times (?) It can be hard to notice at first but they have a lot on their mind. Nevertheless they know that they are more sensitive than most people and try to stay hopeful. You could feel resilience and healing energy oozing from them when you talk to them. They could also be a therapist or counselor or someone who studies psychology. They have the vibes of a very calm and nice teacher who minds their own business. They know how powerful words can be and they insist on maintaining peace. A very helpful person. "I know you can do it but let me do it for you" kind of person. Numbers and signs: 33, 3, 19, 14, Pisces, Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Sagittarius, Cancer, Leo

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 2

Your person likes coffee or tea. They like celebrating their wins. I'm seeing cakes and lots of smiling faces. They are definitely very outgoing. They like forming meaningful relationships, not just mindless networking. They have creativity and a lot of ideas, so they could be a content creator or influencer. Sharp, spontaneous and open-minded. They're also financially secure; I'm seeing a job in finance. And they rely on people a lot more than they should? Maybe because they are looking for something that they can't find in a job. I'm seeing some co-dependency. They carry a lot of nostalgia and regret in their heart; someone who feels homesick for people. They may have studied anthropology and sociology. Couple outfits or couple activities is their thing. The type of person who gets hurt by people but still cannot imagine a whole life without a partner. June or October might be significant. They collect things like stamps or shells or dried flowers. Their house could look like a museum. YOLO could be their motto. Numbers and signs: 25, 1, 11, 13, Libra, Sagittarius, Aries, Leo, Taurus, Pisces

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 3

This pile has some young energy. Someone with a competitive spirit. They have this spoiled princess/prince persona for the people that don't know them very well. In reality, they are someone who works very hard to achieve success and they could be very smug about their accomplishments which might put some people off. I'm sensing that they believe in manifestation and law of attraction. They're also a bit defensive and guarded so it's hard to get to know them. I think they are someone who just wants to have control over their own life. They might have grown up in a situation where they didn't have much control over decisions concerning them so now, they are just trying to get their power back. They learned to stand up for themselves so now the people that could no longer control them are not happy about it. They made peace with it though. They're focusing on making their pinterest board dream life come true. One of their biggest dreams is to live in a beautiful house. January and August could be important. Numbers and signs: 16, 8, 5, 4, Scorpio, Virgo, Pisces, Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Sagittarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 4

Your person is everywhere but also nowhere. They remind me of shows like my liberation notes, they feel like a warm cup of tea that comforts you at the end of a stressful day. They are the “always the artist but never the muse" trope. Similar to pile 1, they are soft spoken and kind. They fit in but they don't feel seen. They like journaling their thoughts because they feel so much. "I don't know where to put it down" Despite this, they have a small group of friends that feel like soulmates or soul family to them. Getting closer to them can be hard because they just enjoy their own solitude that they don't feel the need to be with someone all the time. Very independent. When you get to know them though, you will find that they are very accepting and funny even. A true friend and a loyal partner. They will love to share their interests and hobbies with you. They desire someone who gets them on a spiritual level and they will always be there for you. They really value loyalty and a no bs attitude. For some of you, they could be from a different culture/country. They can probably speak many languages. The type to learn your native language so that communication is never a barrier. Numbers and signs: 32, 13, 14, 5, Virgo, Gemini, Pisces, Leo, Libra, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 5

This person has an elusive persona. The cold and rich male lead character of a manhwa/drama. They prefer night over day; might be a night owl. They are secretly a hopeless romantic. They need someone who is like sunshine. Initially they give off this dark, serious and mature vibe but underneath they have a very soft core. They are a very caring and nurturing person but that energy has been stifled because of their environment. The reason why they act so serious is because they don’t want people to take advantage of them. To them, you are like a warm ray of sunshine that makes them feel alive again. They hate authority. They hate having all these responsibilities that tie them down and keep them busy. They are deserving of their position because of their hard work and leadership qualities, but sometimes they just want to run away from it. They feel that they have a different purpose. However, they could be hesitant to move on from their comfort zone. Out of all the piles, this pile is the most eager to meet you. They said, “you have so much light, the plants grow towards you”. Numbers and signs: 25, 8, 14, 3, Capricorn, Virgo, Leo, Cancer, Taurus, Aries, Libra

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 6

This pile has a very endearing energy. Someone who goes through all of it and yet chooses to be kind. “Memories are all I have” A very poetic or sentimental kind of person who struggles in making decisions. Also, they like humor based on their own pain. They like visiting places that are off the grid and collecting random things. They often dress up to go nowhere. They tend to do a lot of silly things that wouldn’t make sense to the average person because they are silly, duh. Quite the hopeless romantic too. Apart from all the silliness, they are avoidant of the reality because they often dissociate and have tendency to spiral into inner turmoil. They may struggle to understand their own feelings. All this is hidden under the persona of being the happy go lucky friend. In the end, they just want to bond over the little things and enjoy the mundane tasks of everyday life with someone. They may work in a field related to children or history. May, September could be significant. Numbers and signs: 26, 6, 2, 18, Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini, Pisces, Virgo, Libra, Aries

Thank you for reading!!

[jessamine-rose]

Aaaahhhh Navina!! Thank you so much for the continuation. I loved everything about it <3

Ngl reading it makes me want to extend Boss’s misery and delay their happy ending HAHAHA. Ironically, a “loveless” marriage is the closest thing to an expression of love from Darling….for now. Perhaps someday, she’ll give Boss some peace of mind but not today ψ(｀∇´)ψ

So I ended up fast forwarding a bit and writing this drabble for Boss x Friend! Darling……ahahaha I hope you all enjoy this scenario >:’3

Note:: All Boss x Friend! Darling stories take place in the AU where Boss wins in One Last Call

-

There is no romantic proposal.

But that is fine for a “marriage of convenience.”Rather than an emotional proposal in a special place, the two of them are just signing legal documents in Darling’s home.

Aside from the marriage contract, there are many things to discuss—ring designs, living arrangements, cover story for their coworkers, whether or not they’ll have a wedding. The whole time, Darling acts serious and meticulous; it’s a side of her that Boss doesn’t see often.

Then again, he expects nothing less from a senior manager of Celestia Inc.

If things went his way, this marriage would be “real.” Alas, Darling still refuses to give her heart to him, hence why Boss is yielding to her terms. It doesn’t mean that he has given up, though.

Now that they’re married, he will have more opportunities to win her over emotionally. And thanks to this agreement, no one else will pursue Darling or judge them for their previously single status.

“And that’s it.” Darling signs the prenup and looks up to face him. “Here’s to our shared future. Let’s hope you don’t do anything to make me regret this decision.”

“I could say the same,” he shoots back. “I can only imagine the many ways you will test my patience moving forward.”

Not that he dislikes it. By now, the both of them know that Darling has him wrapped about her finger. It’s funny, really—in his desire to control her, he is controlled by his desire for her.

“If you are going to blame anyone later on,” he continues, “it should be yourself for forcing my hand to begin with.”

“Now, now.” At that, Darling’s lips curve into a familiar smile. Her next words sound better than any yes or I do. “Don’t be so mean to your wife~”

Now all that’s left to own is her heart.

-

And they lived happily ever after—jk it will still take months/ years for Boss to make Darling say “I love you” to him. At least he gets a partial victory in another universe xD

I still have more ideas for what happens in Boss x Friend! Darling’s relationship before they reach this point, and aahhhh I can’t wait to make Boss even more of an asshole + boyfailure <3

I hope you don't mind that I did a small continuation to fuel the thoughts of making him a boyfailure btw LMAOOOO

It should've been a loveless marriage.

It should have. That should've been what was expected from the two of them.

And yet, as he found himself one night, years past their first day in being 'married', he found himself unable to put focus on such a thing. To remember that, in a way, this isn't what he could bargain for in the long run.

It was a night like no other. A peaceful, idyllic one, if not for her back turned to him. And his turned back to her as well, for the sake of personal space.

Husband and wife, turning themselves against each other. Such a record, he found himself thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to say yet another word.

Boss— no, Alexander— often had troubles in his mind. Even as the Boss of one of the partner companies of Celestia Inc., the one that focuses on MixMatch as a whole and running his own shady business below, he still found himself thinking through the night.

It left him to stay up, unable to get a wink of rest. And he despised the thought.

Normally, he would find himself able to relax and sleep after 4 hours. He was an insomniac, but nothing that couldn't be solved if he idled long enough with nothing in his mind. Although, as he found out, this was not what he had hoped to occur.

Not with her.

After a while of idling and praying to Gods above to help him sleep to no avail, he turned his body to face her back. He could hear her breathing, even when they're not too close to do such a thing, and his hand quietly reached over to grab hers.

He isn't fond of vulnerability. He's never fond of thinking he should be... Open to someone without thinking they'd stab you on the back.

He hates it. Loathes it to the very core of his being. He couldn't fathom of how people can trust those that could bring them harm, that could simply ruin them if they so much as tried to put their trust and get in fights with them.

But as he held her hand, he felt his shoulders relax. He felt his body lose its tension.

... He's such a fool, he thinks. Just how badly must he crave for someone who'd never love him, when he, himself, can never bring the same commitment?

Maybe it was a curse. A poison he willingly drank, foolishly thinking that no one would catch his eye.

He knew his days were numbered, but in such a night like this, he found himself thinking that it wouldn't be so bad.

He's grown softer. Cordial. Over the years he spent with her, his walls weathered down and became nothing but mere wooden remains. He even found himself thinking that he could simply be laid to rest, and he'd be happy, so as long she remains by his side.

But he will never say that to her.

His pride, his ego, his mind will never let him.

He can cry in anguish all he wants, and truly, he could— but he knew that the day they were together, it will always remain this way.

It was unrequited from the beginning. Maybe he's deluded himself so much into thinking he's had a chance, but he isn't stupid.

So, for now, he will cherish the littlest things he gets from her. He'll cherish the only thing she's allowed him to get.

Her heart will be a grandeur treasure he'd take and never return, but he's content in the time they spent together. In a bit of an irony, he found himself thinking that their time was worth more than just an organ.

After all, what use is a heart if it stopped beating?

Will there be use of an organ when the memories will be the thing left beating?

He didn't knew. No one else knew.

And for once, that left him in a stupor.

Perhaps he can think about this some other time.

Not when he has her in his hand, just like tonight.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | When You Call My Name

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Decades after the events of 1973, Logan finds himself drowning yet again at the bottom of the Potomac River. Luckily, you're there to help pull him out of his nightmare.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of death, discussion of nightmares, Logan's claws make an appearance, mentions of religious trauma and biblical imagery, mentions of abuse (it's on sight when I see you, William Stryker), mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, not really a warning but set after the events of Days of Future Past, loosely based on "Like a Prayer" by Madonna, Logan's POV, gender-neutral reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: So this one got away from me and my own religious trauma may have taken over a tad bit — sorry in advance (If you find comfort and solace in religion, more power to you. This is simply written from my own perspective and lived experience.) This came to me while listening to "Like a Prayer" by Madonna for the thousandth time since seeing Deadpool and Wolverine. Intended this to be shorter, but then I got possessed by some fanfic phantom and this was created. Super proud of the finished product though — hope you all enjoy.

As Logan’s eyes shoot open, he’s only got one thought running through his mind: his lungs are on fire. He attempts to move but is met with a sudden searing white pain shooting through his veins. His eyes, still adjusting to the eerie darkness surrounding him, search for the source of his injury. Panic rises in Logan’s chest as his gaze follows the metallic glint of rebar weaving through his body. He attempts to draw in a shaky breath, and his chest burns as water fills his lungs. 

No. 

It can’t be.

He’s drowning at the bottom of the Potomac River.

Logan wants to scream out of frustration, but it’s impossible. He has no more air left in his lungs, and he has no hope of reaching the surface to take a much-needed deep breath. Even if he could endure the agony caused by his body’s movements, the weight of the rebar Erik impaled him with is pinning him to the riverbed. He’s going to die here. 

Cold. Alone. Suffering.

And yet, a sudden tranquility washes over his body and mind as he realizes that maybe he can finally rest in peace. He knows he placed his trust in the right people — somehow, Charles and Hank will find a way to stop Erik, and finally, the world will see that not all mutants need to be feared. He did his part — he brought everyone back together against all odds.

Logan knew the risks before Kitty sent him back in time, but there was no other choice. Because he also knew what the future would hold if he did nothing — he’d watch the sentinels eviscerate the last of his friends until he was the only one left. And that’s not a future he can live with. But what he can live with is no one remembering his life before 1973 as long as they’re safe — as long as you’re safe.

His body relaxes at the thought. He may not have a future with you in this new timeline, but knowing you’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of puts Logan’s mind at ease. You’ll finally be able to live a peaceful life teaching at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters instead of being forced to play the part of a loyal soldier. Although Logan is deeply saddened by the fact he won’t be a part of this new life, he has more than enough memories of you from his timeline to keep him content in the afterlife.

Logan’s eyes flutter closed as he begins to feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. His regenerative abilities may be able to keep the rebar from killing him, but it cannot save him from asphyxiation. But before he can completely drift off, something grabs his body, pulling him towards the surface. Once free from the river’s grasp, he begins coughing up water. His body desperately gasps for air, and it feels like his lungs cannot get enough oxygen. 

Logan finds the strength to open his eyes and takes in his surroundings. It’s bright — too bright. He blinks several times to adjust his vision to this sudden change. His attention gets drawn to the sound of several men talking in hushed voices. And as he looks up at his rescuers, the panic in his chest starts growing like a wildfire through his body. Logan might have let out a dry laugh at the sight if he wasn't in excruciating pain. Because instead of being met with any type of salvation, Logan seems to have been cursed with eternal damnation, no matter the timeline,  in the form of William Stryker. Some things never change.

He’s younger than when Logan met him in his timeline, but as Stryker smiles down at him, Logan knows this is the same man — the same sick, twisted man he knows all too well. Panic turns into terror as he realizes what he’s about to endure. Agonizing years of torture and torment that he’ll be burdened to forget. He can’t do this again. Not after knowing a life full of not only hardship and loss but also friendship, laughter, and love. He can’t let Stryker take that from him — all those years of happiness. He can’t let him take you.

Stryker opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his condescending tone, Logan hears your voice call his name. Logan’s brow furrows at the sound. Maybe his extended lack of oxygen caused some sort of brain damage. But then he hears it again — a voice he’d recognize in any timeline. Your voice.

And suddenly, it hits him. This isn’t happening. There’s no river, no pain, no Stryker. This is a memory — a nightmare. 

His eyes snap open, and his body jolts forward until he’s sitting up. He coughs hoarsely, as if his body is still trying to expel imaginary water, as he attempts to catch his breath. A layer of sweat has formed over his toned body, and his muscles flex as he rolls his shoulders back. He shakes his head roughly, trying to get a grip on reality.

And then you say his name again. 

His head snaps up, and he looks at you with wild eyes. You’re standing across the room — arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you watch him worriedly. You take a hesitant step toward him. Logan’s brow furrows at your unsureness, concerned about what he might have done in his sleep. But then he follows your gaze to his extended metal claws, and your hesitancy becomes understandable. This isn’t the first time Logan’s claws have come out in the middle of the night. His eyes nervously scan over your body for any injuries he may have inflicted as he retracts his claws. 

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately cross the room as he speaks. Logan watches as you climb onto the bed and sit crisscross before him between his legs. You gently take both of his hands in yours and pull them onto your lap — the hesitancy long gone in your actions. 

“No, Logan. I’m okay.”

He lets out a relieved sigh as he leans forward until his forehead meets yours. He takes a moment to simply relish in the warmth of your touch. Logan relaxes his tense shoulders and melts further into you as you draw lazy circles into the palm of his hand. 

“Where’d you go?”

You pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and his breath hitches. Regardless of how many lifetimes he spends by your side, he’ll never get used to the fondness in your gaze as you look up at him. He remembers waking up in this timeline, thinking he actually did drown at the bottom of the Potomac River. Because this had to be heaven: having you tucked neatly into his chest, legs tangled up with his, steady breaths fanning across his neck. But as he felt you stir in your sleep, arms tightening slightly around his waist, he realized that this was real. He’d come to terms with his own death because at least his two hundred years spent suffering on this earth would mean something. But then he woke up from that nightmare, and he’s spent every day since then wondering when he’d inevitably be pulled out of this dream — waiting for history to repeat itself yet again. But he’s still here — and so are you.

“D.C., 1973.” 

You hum quietly before bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a tender kiss to his palm. Logan waits for you to ask another question about his nightmare, but you silently return to tracing circles into the palm you just kissed. He shouldn’t be surprised; you know him better than anyone by now — better than he knows himself. You know not to push him. And he appreciates it more than you’ll ever know. After years of having his autonomy stripped away, you wait for him to come to you — allow him to open up at his own pace. Soothe him whenever he feels that he is sliding backward instead of moving forward. Healing isn’t linear. This has become your mantra for him on the nights when he’s sure that he’s slipping back into the past — when he longs for the familiarity of his vices and self-destructive tendencies. And you sit next to him with relentless patience through the highs and lows as he continues to navigate and grieve the fifty years he lost.

He’s come a long way since he first woke up. And he still has a ways to go before he can say that he’s processed everything he’s lost. Truth be told, he’s not sure he’ll ever truly heal entirely from his past. But you tell Logan that it doesn’t matter. Every time he begins to think that he’s too damaged — too broken — you reassure him that you love him as is. But he still tries to piece himself back together, for your sake. Tries to open up — to show you that he trusts you more than anyone he’s known during his two hundred years across two separate timelines. And so he continues, letting you into the depths of his tortured mind.

“I was drowning. Again. And it all felt so real. I couldn’t breathe, and I was sure I was slipping into the darkness, but then Stryker was there…”

As Logan trails off, he notices how your body tenses at the mention of Stryker’s name. Your hands tighten ever so slightly around his, and Logan lovingly sweeps his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that name holds as much weight to you as it does to him. He knows about the years of abuse you endured at the hands of William Stryker. He vividly remembers when you confided in him. After months of running into each other in the middle of the night, Logan found you silently crying with your back pressed against the railing of your favorite balcony in the mansion. Without a second thought, he slid down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He didn’t know you — not like he does now. You’d recounted how you first met on Three Mile Island when Scott and Jean brought him to the mansion. And he was thankful for the small piece of his past that you gave back to him. But under the dim light of the night sky, you revealed precisely what you endured during your years of captivity at Stryker’s facility. And that night, Logan made it his life’s mission to get revenge against the man. Not for his sake. No — for you. He would tear Stryker apart limb from limb for what he had done to you. 

“You aren’t there. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Although the words are directed towards him, he knows you’re equally trying to convince yourself of that fact. He knows that even though William Stryker is long dead — after Logan made good on his promise to you — he still haunts you. Unlike Logan, your trauma does manifest in the form of nightmares but insomnia. He thinks maybe this is why the two of you work. After years of feeling alone in this world, Logan finally found someone who understands him and what he’s been through. Although your torment isn’t identical, the similarity in your stories bonded the two of you together. You help him piece together the shared fragments of your past as you heal alongside him. 

“I know, you pulled me out.”

Your brow furrows at his confession. He lets go of your hands and gently holds your face. Your face flushes as he openly admires you. The faint light of the single side table lamp that Logan had left on softens your features, making you look damn near angelic. Logan isn’t a religious man, but his mother was. He was a sickly child before his mutation restored his body. His mother would often sit by his bedside with a bible in hand. And on the nights when he wasn’t delirious from his fever, he would listen to his mother read to him. One verse always stood out to him: “God is faithful, and He will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” She meant for the words to comfort him, but the words only angered him. 

He remembers finding himself down on his knees multiple times during his years as Stryker’s mindless, faithful soldier. Praying to that same God that his mother once trusted to save her baby boy from the illness slowly degrading his frail body. He begged Him for salvation — to be given the way out that was promised in the bible verse his mother once recited. But instead of an answer, Logan was met with silence. So if the years of physical and psychological abuse he endured were nothing but a test from the Lord above to prove his faithfulness, then that’s no God worth following. 

“I heard you call my name, and it brought me back home.”

God never did anything for him. He didn’t bother protecting the innocence of a broken, misguided child. He refused to provide respite from the harshness of humanity. He never offered him any form of help or guidance during his times of greatest need — but you did. Without even knowing, you came into his life like an answered prayer.

Seemingly at a loss for words due to the intensity of his gaze, you grab onto the front of Logan’s t-shirt and pull him into a tight embrace. Your hands slide under the white fabric and slide across the contours of his back. He melts into your touch — finding relief in the direct contact of your skin on his. He’s never considered himself desirable, but you hold him like he’s something to be coveted. And then you murmur his name again. It’s barely a whisper, but the sound rings in his ears because your voice is heaven-sent.

“You’re a goddamn saint, you know that?”

A melodic laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head at his words. You pull away from him slightly and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m nothing special, Logan.”

You don’t mean it in a self-deprecating way. Logan knows that — knows that you simply see yourself as ordinary. But you couldn’t be more wrong. Because you might not actually be a saint or an angel, but you are the only person in two hundred years who’s managed to restore his faith in what this world has to offer. 

“Well. You’re special to me, sweetheart.”

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

[tanix-dragon]

Is That a New Guy or Am I Losing My Mind; or, A Beginner's Guide to Finding Headmates

Written by Roger de Camden of the Draconic Wizard Workshop

Hello, everybody! This is an essay for both plurals who might struggle finding, identifying, or confirming headmates, as well as people who are questioning whether or not they’re plural. Certain pieces of advice may apply better to questioners than established systems, and vice versa, but rest assured, it is intended for both!

This essay will be broken into several sections for various “phases” of discovery and working things out, but a disclaimer before we get to that: this is heavily based on our own experiences. This is not a one-size-fits-all kind of guide. I’m going to try to make it such, but, well, I can’t make any promises, because there are infinite ways of being a system out there, and everyone’s a little different. This is just what I’ve found works for us, and, to a large extent, many of our system friends! That being said, if you try to start syscourse or invalidate other systems for any reason in response to this essay, I’m going to block you and that’s that.

Also, sorry if I go between spellings for words. I’m English, but the body is American and that means that I don’t know how to spell certain words anymore.

So! Onwards, towards discovery!

Step One: Getting an Inkling

The first step to figuring out whether or not you’ve got a headmate (new or otherwise undiscovered; I’ll mostly be calling them “new” as in “new to you”) is having an inkling that one might exist. This is mostly a passive process, and you’re probably familiar with it if you’re reading this guide. Maybe you felt something scuttle through headspace (if you have one) or through the back of your mind. Maybe you felt a presence looming behind you, mentally, that bolted when you “looked.” Maybe you had a very strong emotional reaction to something that makes no sense for you to react to, but would make sense for a character you’ve been really attached to in a show. Or maybe you slipped into an unfamiliar accent, had a loss of memories and woke up with nail polish on in a colour you hate, or just felt an opinion about something that doesn’t match your usual one. Sometimes, you may even “hear” comments about things going on in your mind.

There are a lot of little things that can tip you off. Most of them are going to be things that are misaligned with your own perception of yourself, your opinions, and your behavior. This is usually a sign that someone is co-conscious or co-fronting with you without you being aware of it. Some headmates are very sneaky this way, and some may not realise that they exist at all while doing this! Don’t hold being hard to notice or get a hold of against your headmates—many of them don’t realise that they exist, don’t know how to not be this way, or are doing it for what they perceive to be a good reason (this last one is especially common in disordered systems). Maybe they’re scared, or just not ready to be confronted yet. Don’t worry—remember, you have your whole lives to figure out everyone who’s in there, and the time will pass anyways! Take it easy.

One specific thing that tends to tip us off to a new fictive is that we realise that… no one is aware of running a character that we’re playing in a tabletop roleplaying game. Maybe someone started off running them, but they sure seem to be doing their own thing now! That character may be hard to “turn off” or “put on the shelf” when you stop playing them—and they may continue to make comments and have opinions about things in your life. This is a dead giveaway! Sometimes when we think about a character, we feel a “movement” or interest somewhere in our mind that doesn’t match anyone else’s pattern of thinking or interests, which also can be a giveaway that they’re scuttling around somewhere. Also beneficial, for us, is our synesthesia—every headmate has a colour associated with them, and when we get a thought pattern that seems to match someone but the colour is off, it can make us realise that maybe there’s someone else in here. For example, if someone were to be really interested in jellyfish, we might think that it’s Caspian, but if the colour comes back as red and not blue, then we know for certain that it’s not him.

This first inkling of a new headmate may be obvious or it may be subtle. You may question yourself repeatedly, but remember: if you feel like you are “accidentally faking,” that’s not how faking works. Faking must be done intentionally and on purpose. You could be wrong, yes, but being wrong isn’t inherently bad. It’s just that you were mistaken about something. Nothing wrong with that! We’re all mistaken about all kinds of things every day! Be kind to yourself while trying to figure things out.

Step Two: Are You There, Headmate? It’s Me, Your Other Headmate

Steps two and three are interchangeable in order, but I thought I’d put this one first because it tends to be the one that’s hardest and most distressing, rather than step three, which is about identifying who the hell your headmate is. We’ll get to that, never fear!

So, let’s say you think there might be someone in there. How can you tell for sure? How can you open communication? How can you get them integrated okay?

The bad news is that this depends heavily on the system. The good news is that there’s no need to panic, rush, or be afraid, because once again, you’ll figure it out eventually, and it will be okay!

My first suggestion is to take note of everything that’s made you think there might be someone else in there. Write it down, if that helps! Write down everything that seems to get the entity’s attention, if anything. Write down anything that might help you identify who it might be! In some instances, you might have a character that seems a little independent but you can’t tell whether they’re really a headmate or not. In my experience, this is often how many non-disordered systems (but it’s not exclusive to them!) realise that they’re plural. Knowing who it is will make this step easier, but it isn’t necessary! After all, if you know who it is, you can also write down things that might bait them into responding. Interests and friends of theirs are good examples.

Your goal in this step is to try to draw them out into doing things, speaking, or acting in ways that will give away that they are for certain there. For systems with heavy amnesia or dissociative barriers, this might be significantly harder, but my best suggestion there is to jump straight to trying to communicate, however you can—and this isn’t a bad approach for other systems, either. You can try internal communication, although you might get no response, or an abnormal one, if the headmate is new. For example, with us, new headmates usually respond to direct queries with anxiety—which, while not good for communication and not ideal for the headmate in question, does help us key in on the fact that they definitely exist. You can also try external communication, if internal communication isn’t working or is difficult for you. Write a note in a journal or a sticky note, or even in a notes app or a private Discord server. Sometimes, headmates can find replying over text to be easier. If you’re a high-dissociation and high-amnesia system who is trying to figure out if it’s someone old or new who is fronting and doing things while you’re unaware, leaving sticky notes places asking people to write down who’s fronting when they see it (if they even know who they are) might be helpful. Keep experimenting, and do what works best for you!

As a last resort for uncertain, new, or inexperienced systems, you can try something called “puppeting” on a suspected headmate, especially if you know who they are and just aren’t sure whether or not they’re here. A warning: this is rude and not advised under most circumstances, but sometimes it’s the only way to make absolutely sure that someone is in there with you, especially when you’re not used to it. Have an apology ready and mean it. Puppeting is when you try to force a headmate to do something, especially something unusual or out of character for them. For example, if I thought I might have my character Gorka as a headmate, but I wasn’t sure, I might try to call up a scenario involving Gorka and then try to imagine her doing something wildly out of character, that she would never, ever do. If I couldn’t get a response out of that, or if I had no idea who this new headmate might be, I might just try to make them physically do something—strongly imagining them doing a stupid dance or similar! No response doesn’t necessarily mean you do or do not have a headmate, but a strong response—usually of anger, offense, or ��slapping” your “hands” away—indicates someone separate from yourself! Apologize immediately and then attempt to engage in communication once they’ve calmed down a little, or try to transition into it through an explanation. 

There are a lot of reasons that a headmate might not respond to puppeting, though. They might be non-confrontational, or hiding their presence from you intentionally for any number of reasons. (Maybe they’re nervous, not ready to exist yet, afraid of how you might respond, afraid of accepting that they’re in a system—it could be anything.) In cases like this, you might just get discomfort instead of a strong response, which is easy to confuse for being your own rather than theirs. Try to sort out whether you just feel strange doing it, or if it’s someone else’s discomfort bleeding through. I know it’s hard, but that’s a difficult thing to give advice for, I’m afraid! Other reasons may be that they just dip from the front when you try (removing themself from your sphere of influence completely), or if they’re a character you frequently play, they might be so used to being pulled around into doing things that it doesn’t bother them, or bothers them so little that you don’t notice.

Usually, if you’re at the point of trying puppeting, there’s enough signs that this person really is a headmate to dissuade you from trying it once you’re a little more used to it. It’s a temporary and unideal tool that should leave your toolbox as soon as you become confident enough to identify new headmates without getting grabby with them. Undoubtedly, trying to establish communication is a better approach, if you can get it to work.

Usually, once we’ve properly spotted a headmate and made it clear to them that we know they’re there, one of two things happens: either they come sit in the front for a few days or weeks to settle in, let us identify them, and get used to being a full active member of the system, or they realise that they exist and have a panic attack. This “new headmate panic” can last anywhere from a few minutes to multiple days, and may fluctuate in strength. Sometimes, a new headmate might seem fine early on, but have this panic after a few days, weeks, or even longer. Be gentle during this time, especially if you yourself have a strong reaction—be gentle with both, or all, of you! Realizing that you’re in a system can be very distressing, as can realizing you have a new headmate, so try to be gentle, let yourself feel what you’re going to feel, and work through it in the best way you have. Try not to direct any anger or negative feelings towards anyone else in your system during this time, and just let the storm pass before really trying to get to know each other.

Step Three: Who Is This Guy, Anyway?

Once again, you can do this step before or after step two, but I put it here because I decided to include some tips for getting to know your headmate, not just identifying them (if there is anything to identify). If your system is introject-heavy, or if you’re asking yourself if you’re just really interested in a character or if they’re a new headmate, this is an important step! Who is this? Are they an introject of some kind? Are they something or someone else? Is there anything to identify, per se, or is it just a situation of getting to know a whole new person? This is a very, very different step depending on your system, and is going to skew very much towards my own experiences. I’m sorry about that, but I will do my best!

If you’ve already established communication with this headmate, even if it’s shaky, you can try to get information from them that way. They might be willing to give you a name, a code name, a colour, an aesthetic, likes or dislikes, something you can use to familiarise yourself with them or identify them from a list of “suspects” if you have such a thing. (We always do, because we’re almost all fictives, and we know our own patterns at this point.) For us, new headmates almost never actually identify, and just sullenly sit while trying to figure themselves out and will only confirm who they are once we figure it out. It’s sort of like playing a mystery game, assembling clues based on a myriad of factors. If you have some suspicions, just like the previous step, you can try to bait out responses by doing things that might interest who you suspect this headmate might be.

Again, I suggest writing things down! Write down likes and dislikes, things that get their attention, interests, even things that make them anxious or afraid. Whether it’s a case of identification or just getting to know them, this is invaluable information for interacting with someone sharing a head with you, and it may even be helpful for them as they get their feet under them.

Another invaluable tool is talking to people outside of your system. They can help you identify when you’re acting unusually, when you might have someone unfamiliar riding co-conscious, and even who that person might be. You may be too tangled up in your own feelings, your dissociation, or the desperation to understand who is in your head with you. It’s easy to get lost in the weeds and lose sight of the big picture, but another friend, especially another system that knows you well, can be extremely helpful! One of our system friends has clocked many a headmate of ours before we were even certain they were there—just “hmm, you’ve been very much like X lately” and they were absolutely right. 

Regardless, taking notes on your new headmate, asking them about themselves, and sharing things about yourself are all important steps to getting to know them! They may be uncomfortable, they may distrust you, they may be afraid—or they could be friendly and excited to be here! It really depends on who it is and their comfort level. Don’t push—if they’re not comfortable talking yet, don’t make them! Let them adjust at their own pace and get to know them as they’re willing to let you. I know it can be distressing to have a totally unknown entity co-fronting with you, but sometimes it’s one of those things that you have to take a deep breath and carry on through until they’re willing to talk. I know you can do it! Talk through it with someone outside of your own head if it’s difficult to give yourself some fortitude if you need to. I know it helps me.

Step Four: Now What?

Let’s say that you’ve confirmed that you do have a headmate, and either have or are on the road to identifying them, if applicable. Now what?

As I’ve said before: be gentle with yourselves! Especially for a new or inexperienced system, and especially for someone who is just realising that they’re a system, this can be overwhelming, distressing, or any other number of emotions. Remember that having or gaining headmates isn’t inherently a bad thing, and while this all might take some getting used to, it’s going to be okay. You’ll figure out an equilibrium eventually, and it is absolutely possible to live a long, happy life with your headmates. Remember that you’re all in this together, and you’re a team.

People may not want you to notice them, may not want to be in the system, or may avoid attention as best they can for a lot of reasons, and trying to make them feel at home, or at least more comfortable, is essential. It can be scary being in a system all of a sudden, especially if they’re an introject or otherwise had a life outside or before this one. Maybe they don’t like the body, or are afraid of another headmate, or are terrified of a negative response from you or someone else. Don’t force these people into situations they’re not ready for! If you’re looking for someone, trying to identify them, or trying to help them, and you’re just causing a lot of distress, back off for a while. Let them calm down and come to you in their own time. Sometimes, you have to do the system equivalent of leaving cookies out on a plate and turning your back to them so that your new headmate can take them without being watched. Take things at the pace that you’re all the most comfortable with, and as always, be kind.

I really do suggest talking to someone about this process, if you can. Journal if you’d like, especially if you can’t trust anyone with this, or don’t feel comfortable doing so yet. Getting your words out of your head helps you sort them out a lot, especially in the case of systems, where a lot of people’s thoughts can get jumbled together. Writing them all down, even if you don’t know whose they are, can be helpful. We find that talking to other system friends is of the most benefit, and our new members are far more likely to speak to them first rather than us, because there’s a degree of separation and that’s more comfortable for them. Whatever works for you, do it! The idea is to get comfortable with each other, and with being here together.

Find things that your new headmate likes doing. Goratrix has a whole panel about this aimed at fictives, but essentially, if your new headmate doesn’t have reason to front and isn’t interested in anything, you probably won’t see much of them, and they may end up miserable. Make sure you engage with them and their interests. Let them make friends if they’d like. Get them snacks. Again: whatever works! This is going to depend very heavily on your system, so follow your gut instinct on this one, I think.

Absolutely essential, though, is to not repress anybody. I know sometimes getting a new headmate can be scary, especially if they’re unfamiliar, frightening, seemingly monstrous, or a persecutor, but remember: they’re probably just as freaked out as you are, if not more so, and they need patience and understanding. Statistically, if they’re doing something troublesome, they’re trying to help and just don’t know how, or are misguided on what “help” looks like. Be kind, and try to find a solution that works for everyone.

Past that… just get to know each other. Figure out how to live together and how to make your combined life the best life it can be. For us, there’s so many of us that someone new can almost always find a fast friend in someone else, and sticks with them for a while until they’re more used to the system and more confident fronting and doing things without their buddy. Other systems may be able to mimic this approach, or may need to do something very different. Again, again, again, do what works best for you! If parts of this guide seem unhelpful or counterproductive, ignore them! This is based on our experience of plurality, not yours. Always do what’s best for you, what helps the most of you, and what causes the least distress while still letting you function as much as you need to.

Being plural is a very personal experience, in a lot of ways, which is pretty funny because sometimes that personal experience is spread across two or twenty or five hundred people. It’s also a very personalized experience, meaning we’re all quite different. Your “now what?” might look very different from ours, and that’s okay. We can only do our best, and that’s always good enough.

I hope this is helpful to someone! If you have any questions, please feel free to ask, and I may edit this guide in the future if it seems that I left something out or think of anything to add. =)

[stylesispunk]

"I'll never leave, Never mind"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel met at the hospital that may have sealed your fate.

wc: 16,3k. Longest one I've ever written.

warnings: extreme angst, grieving, death,No proofreading.

a/n: There is no new chapter of 'Silent Strain' tonight, but here is a new one shoot. This is a sad sad and rushed one and it was heavily inspired on 'we live in time' cuz florence and andrew content made me think on it a lot. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel and you could have said that fate has its way to interlock threads among people.

Some people met through friends at a party.

Others had their long way from kids, from friends to lovers and getting married.

And others met by coincidence,

When both of them ended up with a broken arm and broken fingers in a hospital.

One breaking up with his lifetime girlfriend.

The other foolish being cheated on.

Joel was leaning back in the chair, his arm in a sling, his expression was pure irritation and pain. Across from him, you sat cradling your bandaged fingers, the sting of adrenaline still fresh from your impulsive decision. The silence felt strange and weird, after all everything was a dream engulfed in fire.

You glanced at the man in front of you, studying his profile, he way his brow furrowed slightly, the tension in his jaw. He caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow in question. Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, you blurted out, "What happened to your arm?"

Joel’s eyes flickered to his sling, a small, almost amused smirk playing at his lips. "A bar fight," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "Didn't go quite like I planned."

"Sounds like it wasn't your night," you replied, trying to suppress a grin.

He chuckled softly. "You could say that." Then, nodding at your bandaged hand, he added, "What about you? Those fingers look pretty messed up."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell the truth. "Punched my ex," you admitted finally. "Turns out, hitting someone with rings on isn't the smartest move."

Joel's grin widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both dissipated. "What about?," he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"cheating" You said, with a lazy smaile.

You both gaze at each other, still unaware that the woman your ex had cheated with was Joel's ex-girlfriend. Fate, or maybe the universe, had twisted your lives into a messy knot, and the hospital room was just the start of what would prove to be an unexpected connection between two strangers meeting at a hospital for the first time.

"How can people do that to you?." His gaze grew distant, him not saying the truth behind the statement and you wondered what ghosts were lingering in his past. The thought that you might be more connected than you realized hadn’t crossed your mind yet, but somehow, it felt like this conversation was meant to happen.

"So, what happened?" you asked, a little softer this time. "With the bar fight, I mean."

Joel shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a lopsided smile. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he replied. There was a hint of challenge in his tone, as if daring you to ask more.

"Try me," you shot back, leaning forward slightly.

He chuckled, more to himself than to you. "Alright, then. I walked into a bar to clear my head. Turns out, my ex was there, drinking with some guy who looked like he thought he owned the place. Words were said, and, well… my fist got to know his face better than I planned." He winced, probably at the memory or the pain radiating from his arm.

"Your ex?" you echoed, a strange feeling creeping up your spine.

"Yeah," Joel said, nodding. "She was the reason I needed a drink in the first place. She cheated and we broke up, but seeing her with him… didn’t exactly help. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why I still care." There was a bitter edge to his words, one that made you think of your own ex and the anger still simmering in your chest.

You were about to respond, maybe tell him that you understood too well, when the door to the waiting room opened, and a nurse stepped in. She glanced between the two of you, holding a clipboard. “Mr. Miller?” she called, and Joel raised his good hand.

"That’s me," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. The nurse gestured for him to follow, but before he could move, he looked back at you, a strange expression crossing his face.

“Maybe when I’m back, we can still have this conversation” he suggested, a hint of a grin returning.

You nodded, feeling a pull toward him that was hard to ignore. "I’d like that," you replied, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

You had just turned to leave when you heard Joel’s voice behind you.

"Hey," he called out, a little hesitantly. You stopped in your tracks and turned back to face him.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not the type to do this often. "I was just thinkin’... I don’t really wanna leave things like this. Mind if I get your number?"

For a second, you were caught off guard. Joel, tough and reserved, asking for your number? It felt like one of those moments where the universe gave you a choice a small step toward something unknown but maybe worth exploring.

You smiled, this time a bit more genuine, and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Pulling out your phone, you exchanged numbers, the simple act suddenly feeling like a big deal, like some invisible line had been crossed.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again, and for a moment, there was that same unspoken connection between you.

"Guess I’ll see you around," you said, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

Joel gave you a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah. I’d like that."

With one last glance, you turned and walked away, feeling a little lighter than before. And even though you had no idea what would come next, there was something about the way Joel had stopped you that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

A new friendship,

A new story,

A new romance.

You didn't know, but there was a good feeling about those big brown eyes of Joel when he looked at you.

Joel had met a girl who made him feel at ease, like being bathed by the warm sun of a chilly autumn afternoom.

And you, you had met a man who made you believe not everyone wanted to hurt you.

Something like golden in color, something like dawn being seen from the beach.

Pure, fearless and sweet.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day kept replaying in your mind. Meeting Joel, the strange connection, the shocking revelation about his ex—it was all too much to process. You turned over, trying to let sleep take over, but your mind wouldn’t settle.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You blinked in the darkness, surprised anyone would be texting this late. Grabbing your phone, you saw Joel’s name light up on the screen. Your heart did a small, unexpected flip as you opened the message.

Joel: Hope I didn’t wake you. Just wanted to say… It was really nice to meet you.

You stared at the message, feeling a warmth spread through you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, just a simple, honest text. And yet, something about it made you smile in the quiet of your room.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed back:

You: No, you didn’t wake me. I’m glad we met too. Today was...nice after all.

That's how it started between the both of you.

It was coincidental.

It was legendary.

Three months after talking, two months after running after each other and hanging out.

Joel finally asked you out on a date.

Joel stood in the doorway, scanning your coffee shop before his eyes found you behind the counter. For a split second, the same look of surprise crossed his face as it had the day you first met, like he hadn’t fully expected to see you here. But then his expression softened, and he gave you a small nod as he walked toward the counter.

"A cup of coffee, Miller?" you asked with a grin, trying to hide the flutter of nerves that came with seeing him.

Joel scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable, but there was something different in his posture today, like he had something in the back of his mind . "Actually… I was hoping..." he beganhis voice low and a bit hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'What?"

He took a breath, looking almost shy for a man like him, and you could see him working up the courage. "I was wonderin’ if you’d want to go out sometime. Maybe grab a drink or dinner." His eyes locked onto yours, and despite the casual tone, there was a weight behind his words, like he’d been thinking about this since the last time you saw each other.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. The idea of Joel, this tough, guarded man, asking you out felt both surprising and strangely right at the same time.

"You want to take me out?" you asked, making sure you hadn’t misheard.

Joel gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean, if you’re up for it. Something fancier, just… somewhere that isn't your coffee hop or a hospital hallway."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. His awkwardness was endearing, and there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t playing games—this wasn’t just about grabbing a drink. It felt like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you.

"Sure," you said, your voice soft but certain. "I’d like that."

Joel’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he smiled, a real one this time. "Alright, then. How about tomorrow night? I know a good place."

"Tomorrow sounds great," you replied, trying to ignore the excited flutter in your chest. "Just let me know where."

"I will," Joel nodded, and for a moment, he just stood there, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you with that same small, shy smile. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you watched him walk out of the shop. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

The next evening, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your red dress. It was simple, elegant, and just a little daring, something you hadn’t worn in a while. There was a nervous excitement bubbling inside you as you got ready. It wasn’t often you went on dates, and certainly not with someone like Joel.

As you approached the restaurant, your heart raced a little faster. The soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk set a warm and inviting tone, but it was the thought of seeing Joel that had your nerves on edge.

When you stepped inside, scanning the room, you saw him right away. Joel was seated near the window, dressed in a dark button-up shirt that suited him well, though it still carried that ruggedness you’d come to associate with him. His head was down, focused on the menu in front of him, unaware that you had arrived.

But then, as if sensing your presence, he looked up—and his reaction was instant. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. Joel sat there, frozen for a moment, his eyes taking in the sight of you in the red dress. He hadn’t expected this. The sight of you knocked the air right out of his lungs.

You caught the way his mouth hung open just a bit, the look of awe in his eyes. It was as if, for a second, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You smiled shyly, stepping toward him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze.

Joel stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair back in his haste. "Wow," he breathed, barely managing to find the words. "You… you look incredible." His voice was low, almost reverent, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a little bashful under his gaze but also enjoying how flustered he seemed. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

Joel chuckled, but his eyes remained on you, still taking in the way the dress hugged your figure, the way the soft light from the restaurant made you glow. For a man who was usually so composed and reserved, he was completely undone by you tonight.

As you reached the table, Joel moved to pull out your chair, a little clumsily, but his gesture was sweet. "Here, let me," he offered, still looking at you like you’d just walked out of a dream.

"Thanks," you murmured as you sat down, glancing up at him with a smile. He was still standing, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally sat across from you.

For a few moments, Joel was quiet, his usual gruffness replaced by something softer, almost tender. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly as if trying to process what he was feeling. "I wasn’t expectin’ this," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "You look… I don’t even have the words."

You laughed softly, feeling the tension ease between you. "I’m glad I could surprise you."

Joel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "You did. And I’m real glad you’re here."

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed easily, and despite the initial nerves, you both found a rhythm. Joel’s lingering stares, his quiet admiration, the way his eyes softened every time you smiled—everything felt charged with an undeniable connection. There was something between you, something unspoken but very real.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but wonder if the universe really did have its own funny way of pulling people together.

It felt like a movie. Waking up next to Joel felt like living inside a dream you never wanted to end. Each morning, as the sunlight spilled through the curtains, the reality of it all washed over you, how something that started so unexpectedly had grown into this, something solid, something that felt like home. It felt like a movie, the kind where everything was beautifully imperfect, but just right in all the ways that mattered.

You turned in bed, watching him sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. There was a calmness in his face, a softness that most people never got to see. His hair was a little messier, a few strands falling into his eyes, and you reached out gently, brushing them aside. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, smiling as you traced a finger along his arm. "Feels like we’re in one of those romantic comedies, doesn’t it?"

Joel chuckled softly, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Except I’m no prince, and you didn’t have to kiss a frog to get me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the truth was, every day with Joel felt like something special, like fate had somehow woven your lives together in the most unexpected way. You thought back to that first day in the hospital when you’d both been broken in different ways, and now, here you were, piecing each other back together.

"You say that like you’re not the most decent guy I’ve ever met," you teased, settling back into his arms.

Joel tightened his hold around you, his fingers brushing through your hair. "You give me too much credit."

"I don’t think I give you enough," you replied softly, your voice laced with sincerity.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you with those deep, soulful eyes, the kind that always made you feel seen, really seen. Joel was never one for flowery words, but his actions spoke volumes—the way he looked after you, the way he showed up for you, every single day, even when he didn’t need to.

"Can’t believe it’s been a year," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me neither," you admitted. "Happy anniversary" you said, kissing all of his face.

Joel smiled as your lips brushed across his face, his eyes closing briefly as he soaked in the tenderness of the moment. "Happy anniversary," he murmured, his voice low and warm, as if the words held more weight than he could fully express. His hands slid up to cradle your face, pulling you closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’ve made this past year somethin’ I never thought I’d have again,” Joel whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the small, intimate gesture sending warmth through you. “Never thought I’d feel this way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You deserve it, Joel. We both do." You kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, trailing kisses along his stubbled jawline. "I’m lucky to wake up next to you every day."

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself. "Feels like I’m the lucky one.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "I guess we’re both lucky, then."

Joel gazed at you, his eyes soft, filled with an emotion that words couldn’t quite capture. "Don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered, his voice just a little rough around the edges.

"Good thing you don’t have to find out," you teased, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering, as if the moment itself held a promise. The world outside the bedroom didn’t matter, not right now. All that mattered was this, the quiet love that had grown between you both over the past year.

The kind of love that, even in its simplicity, felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Later that morning, you and Joel stood side by side in the kitchen, working in comfortable silence as you prepared breakfast together. The smell of coffee filled the air, and the sound of sizzling bacon accompanied the quiet hum of morning. Both of you had decided to take the day off—no work, no interruptions—just a day to be together and celebrate your anniversary.

As you stirred the eggs, Joel suddenly cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced over to see him watching you with that familiar, warm smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’." He flipped the bacon, pausing for a moment, almost like he was searching for the right words. "I know some people think we’re movin’ fast—bein’ together the way we are after only a year."

You set the spatula down, turning to face him fully. You’d heard the comments before—friends and family making subtle remarks about how quickly things had progressed between you and Joel. But none of that had ever mattered to you. It felt right.

"And… what do you think?" you asked gently, curious where his thoughts were leading.

Joel looked at you, his expression serious for a moment, before it softened into something deep, something real. "I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever been," he admitted, his voice steady. "And I don’t care if people think we’re movin’ too fast. Everything just feels right with you." He set the pan aside and stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently cup your face.

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you in the best way possible. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. And in that moment, you realized just how much you meant to him.

"I’ve got a surprise for you," Joel added, his voice a little softer, and there was a glint of nervousness in his eyes—something you didn’t see from him often.

"A surprise?" you repeated, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "What kind of surprise?"

He took your hand, leading you away from the stove and into the living room. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness to the way he held you, like he was holding something precious.

Joel stopped in front of the couch, turning to face you. He reached into his back pocket and, for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he pulled out a small box, and as he held it in his hand, you realized exactly what was happening.

Your eyes widened, and you brought a hand to your mouth as Joel got down on one knee, looking up at you with that same earnest, loving expression.

"I know it’s been a year, and I know some people might think this is crazy," he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the emotion in it. "But I don’t care about any of that. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life." He opened the box, revealing a simple but beautiful ring. "You make me feel like I’m home, every day. So, I’m askin’… will you marry me?"

Your heart nearly stopped as you stood there, mouth agape, staring at Joel kneeling in front of you with that ring in his hand. The weight of the moment washed over you, and before you could think, your body moved on instinct. You dropped to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Joel immediately responded, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. The words "Yes, yes," tumbled from your lips, breathless and full of emotion. Without even realizing it, you shifted, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you securely.

His laugh was soft and filled with pure joy as he stood up, lifting you effortlessly with him. He held you tightly, your legs still wrapped around his waist as you clung to him. "You really mean that?" he asked, his voice a little shaky, but his eyes shone with happiness.

You nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your voice catching as you whispered, "I’ve never been surer of anything in my life."

Joel’s arms tightened around you, his chest rumbling with laughter and relief all at once. "You’ve made me the happiest man alive," he said, his voice deep and full of love.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You smiled; your heart full to the brim. "I guess we both found home."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, "I guess we did."

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Joel gently lowered you to the ground, holding you steady as you found your footing. His eyes never left yours, full of warmth and something even deeper that made your heart swell. He reached for the ring, holding it up with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Now," he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with emotion, "let me do this the right way."

He carefully took your hand in his, and you watched in awe as he slid the ring onto your finger. It felt cool at first, but as it settled into place, it felt like it belonged there—like it had always been meant to be.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the ring, sparkling in the morning light. It was simple, yet beautiful—perfect, just like the moment.

Joel’s fingers brushed yours as he held your hand, pulling you close again. "Looks just right," he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. His thumb softly traced over the ring, and then over your knuckles, like he was making sure it was real, like this wasn’t just a dream.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes, but they were happy tears, filled with the overwhelming joy of knowing you had found your forever with this man. "It’s perfect," you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Joel smiled, pulling you into his arms again, his lips brushing the top of your head as he murmured, "You’re perfect."

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other, savoring the silence and the weight of what had just happened. It was more than just a proposal—it was a promise, one that you both knew you would keep, no matter what life threw at you.

A month had passed since the day Joel put that ring on your finger, and it felt like you were living in a dream. Every moment with him was like writing your own love story—filled with warmth, laughter, and the kind of happiness you never thought you’d find. You and Joel had started to create a life together, and it felt like the world had finally aligned in the best way.

That night, as the moonlight spilled through the curtains, Joel was already in bed, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light on him as he flicked through a book. You were in the bathroom, hands trembling slightly as you looked down at the test in your hand. The two lines were unmistakable. Your heart raced, a mixture of excitement, nerves, and disbelief filling your chest.

"Joel?" you called out from the bathroom, your voice a little shaky.

"Yeah, darlin'?" His voice was calm, unaware of the life-altering news you were about to share.

"I… I have to show you something," you managed to say, your nerves bubbling into a quiet, breathy laugh.

There was a brief pause before you heard the rustle of sheets and Joel's footsteps making their way toward the bathroom. The door creaked open, and Joel appeared in the doorway, his brows furrowed in curiosity. "What is it?" he asked, his deep voice laced with concern as his eyes searched your face.

You turned toward him, holding the pregnancy test in your hand, your heart pounding. With a nervous laugh, you held it out for him to see. "I... I'm pregnant, Joel."

His eyes flicked down to the test, and for a moment, it seemed like time stood still. The realization hit him slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to something far deeper. His mouth opened slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the news.

"You're... pregnant?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, biting your lip, unsure of how he’d react. "I know it's a lot. I didn’t even expect it, but—"

Before you could finish, Joel stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. His face buried into the crook of your neck, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin as he whispered, "Are you serious?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah. I’m serious."

Joel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face.

Joel lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his laughter mixing with yours as the weight of the news settled in—a shared joy that filled the room. His eyes sparkled with happiness, and the grin on his face was infectious. He held you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he spun you in a small circle, both of you laughing like kids.

"I can’t believe it," Joel said, his voice filled with awe as he gently set you down on the bathroom counter, still holding you close. "We're gonna have a baby."

You nodded, the happiness bubbling up inside you, barely able to contain it. "We are," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "We're gonna be parents."

Joel kissed your forehead softly, his hands gently rubbing your sides. "I love you," he whispered, the words filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell. "You and this baby—we're gonna have the perfect story”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but they were happy tears, and you smiled up at him. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’re going to be a family."

He held you there for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then, with a soft chuckle, Joel stepped back, still keeping a hand on your waist. "Guess we better start gettin’ used to this idea. A baby, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with excitement. "A baby."

Joel smiled, still shaking his head in disbelief as he looked down at you. “A baby,” he repeated, his voice soft with awe. "I can’t believe it."

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of becoming a father again. The joy in his eyes was unmistakable. After all the hardships, after all the loss, this was something he didn’t think he’d ever have again—a chance at building a family, a future.

“Guess we’re gonna have to start gettin' the place ready, huh?” Joel said, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "Crib, baby clothes… We’re in for a lot of changes."

You laughed, wiping away the last of your tears. "Yeah, we have a lot to prepare for."

Joel grinned, stepping back and taking your hand as he led you out of the bathroom. "But I’m ready for all of it," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "Every single part of it."

As the two of you stepped into the bedroom, the quiet warmth of the moment settled over you. Joel sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. His hands rested on your stomach, fingers gently tracing over where your baby would grow.

"Just think," he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. "In a few months, there’ll be a little one right here. A part of you and me."

The thought of it made your heart swell with love and anticipation. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I can’t wait, Joel," you whispered. "It’s going to be everything."

For a while, the two of you just sat there, holding each other in the quiet of the night, the future ahead of you bright and full of promise. It was a life neither of you had ever expected to find—but it was yours now, and you would cherish it, together.

Joel kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and full of love. "We’ve got a good thing goin’ here," he said. "And now, it’s just gonna get better."

You smiled, closing your eyes as you whispered back, "Yeah, it is."

Time seemed to pass in a blur after that night. Every moment was a new memory, a new step toward the future you and Joel were building together. As the months went by, you prepared for the arrival of your baby while deepening the bond between you two. Joel was there for every ultrasound, every late-night craving, and every moment of excitement and nerves.

The day you both decided to get married wasn’t a grand occasion but something simple, just the way you both wanted it. You’d been sitting on the couch, going over baby names, when Joel looked at you with that soft, familiar smile and said, “Why don’t we get married before the little one arrives?”

At first, the idea seemed so casual, but the more you thought about it, the more perfect it felt. You didn’t need a big ceremony or an extravagant event. What you wanted was to make things official in the most meaningful way possible, with just the two of you and a handful of your closest friends and family.

The wedding day was intimate, held at a charming little venue not far from home. It was a crisp autumn day, the leaves turning shades of gold and crimson, and you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting. Your family and closest friends were there. As you walked toward him, your heart fluttered. Joel, standing tall and proud in his suit, his eyes filled with love and pride, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t believe that this man, who had once been just a stranger, was now the center of your world.

When you reached him, Joel took your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, standing together, ready to face whatever came next.

When you finally reached him, Joel took your hand, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The look in his eyes was one of pure love and pride. He leaned in slightly and whispered, “You look beautiful, darlin’.”

The ceremony itself was short but filled with emotion. Joel’s voice wavered ever so slightly as he said his vows, and you could feel the weight of his words as he promised to love and support you forever.

“I never thought I’d be this lucky again,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever asked for."

Your heart swelled, and when it was your turn, you spoke from the heart. "I didn’t know life could be this good until I met you, Joel. You’ve changed everything for me."

The officiant declared you husband and wife, and Joel didn’t waste a second, pulling you in for a soft, meaningful kiss that felt like the beginning of a new chapter.

“By the power vested in me…” the officiant’s voice seemed to fade as you looked at Joel, your heart overflowing with love. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Joel’s smile widened as he gently cupped your face and pulled you into the sweetest, softest kiss. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, forever bound to each other.

After the small, intimate wedding, life felt like it had settled into a beautiful rhythm. Every morning you woke up next to Joel felt like a dream you never wanted to end, and as your belly grew, so did your love for the life you were building together.

It was a calm morning a few weeks after the wedding, the sunlight streaming through the windows of your cozy home. Joel had already gotten out of bed to make breakfast, and you could hear the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, feeling content and full of love.

You got up slowly, your hand instinctively resting on your growing bump. The baby had started kicking more frequently, and every little movement filled you with awe. You made your way to the kitchen, and there he was, standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs like he did every Sunday morning.

Joel looked over his shoulder when he heard you approach, his face breaking into a soft, adoring smile. "Mornin’, sweetheart. How’re you feelin’?"

“Good,” you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Hungry, as always.”

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. “That’s a good sign. I’ve got breakfast ready in just a few minutes.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face as Joel brought over plates of eggs, toast, and some fruit. As you both started eating, Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you, his expression full of love and admiration.

"You know," Joel started, his voice soft and thoughtful, "Every time I see you, like this, carryin' our baby… it just hits me how lucky I am."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "I feel the same way, Joel. I can’t believe how much life has changed for the better. I never thought I’d get to be this happy."

Joel reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb gently caressed the back of your hand as he gazed at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes. "We’ve been through a lot, but every bit of it led us here. And I wouldn’t change a thing."

After breakfast, the two of you spent the day together, enjoying the simple moments that made your life so full. Joel had taken time off from work to be around more as the baby’s due date got closer, and it felt like every day was another beautiful chapter in your love story.

As the evening drew near, you sat together on the couch, Joel’s hand resting protectively on your belly as the baby kicked softly. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a sense of peace and joy. "You’re gonna be such a great mom."

You smiled, leaning into him. "And you’re going to be the best dad."

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand never leaving your bump. The two of you sat there in the quiet, simply enjoying each other’s presence, the future stretching out before you, full of hope and love.

Months had passed, and the day finally arrived. You were in the hospital room, your hand gripping Joel’s tightly as you went through the final stages of labor. The pain was intense, but Joel was right there by your side, whispering encouragement in your ear, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around you.

"You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart," Joel murmured, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His hand was firm in yours, grounding you as the contractions intensified. "Almost there. Just a little longer."

With one final push, the room filled with the first cry of your baby. Relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy washed over you as you collapsed back against the pillow. The doctor carefully placed the newborn in your arms, and when you looked down at her tiny face, everything else in the world faded away.

Joel stood beside you, his eyes wide with awe as he looked down at your daughter. "She’s here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand hovered above her small head before he gently stroked her soft hair. "She’s perfect."

You smiled up at him, tears filling your eyes as you whispered, "Sarah."

Joel’s breath hitched, his gaze softening even more as he took in the name. "Sarah," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips over your daughter’s tiny head. "Welcome to the world, baby girl."

Sarah’s little fingers curled around your thumb as she lay in your arms, her cries quieting as she settled into the warmth of your body. The love that filled the room was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks.

Joel sat down beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders as the two of you gazed at your daughter in awe. "She’s gonna have your strength," Joel said softly, his voice filled with pride. "I can already see it."

"And she’ll have your heart," you whispered, leaning into him. "She’s a little piece of both of us."

For hours, you sat together in the quiet of the hospital room, marveling at the tiny miracle in your arms. Sarah yawned, her tiny eyes fluttering open for the first time, and Joel’s face lit up with a joy you’d never seen before.

"You’re gonna be a great dad," you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder.

Joel smiled, his eyes never leaving Sarah’s face. "And you’re gonna be the best mom," he replied, his voice soft but full of certainty.

In that moment, everything felt complete. The life you had built with Joel had come full circle, and now, holding Sarah, it felt like the perfect beginning to something even more beautiful. The three of you were a family, and nothing could ever take that away.

As you both sat there, watching your newborn daughter sleep peacefully in your arms, Joel leaned down and kissed you softly. "Thank you," he whispered. "For all of this. For her."

You smiled, tears filling your eyes once again. "We did this together."

And as the night settled in, the three of you together, you knew that this, this was everything you had ever dreamed of. A love that had grown into something extraordinary, a family you never thought possible, and a future that was full of hope and endless possibilities.

Time had passed, and life settled into a beautiful, busy rhythm. You found yourself balancing the challenges of raising Sarah while managing your work. Your coffee shop was thriving, and although it wasn’t always easy, the love and support Joel gave you made everything seem possible. Every morning, you’d drop Sarah off with her babysitter before opening the shop, your heart swelling as you kissed her little cheeks goodbye.

Joel and Tommy had built up their construction company together, working side by side like they always had. It was their dream, and they took pride in what they had created. Most evenings, they would come home late, tired but fulfilled, dust and sweat still clinging to their clothes, but there was always a smile on Joel's face as soon as he stepped through the door and saw you and Sarah.

It was a happy life, a busy one. Sarah was growing fast, and every day brought something new—a first laugh, her first wobbly steps, her fascination with the world around her. Joel had fallen completely in love with being a dad, always the first one to scoop Sarah up when he got home, carrying her around on his shoulders as she giggled.

One evening, after a long day of work, you were at home, feeding Sarah in her high chair while Joel and Tommy sat at the kitchen table, talking shop over dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to them go on about their latest project—something about expanding a new office building downtown. It warmed your heart to see Joel so happy in his work, and even more so knowing that you were all building this life together.

Joel caught your eye from across the table, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He stood up, coming over to where you were standing with Sarah. Gently, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration as he watched you interact with Sarah.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’re doing this together,” you said softly, mirroring the words you’d told him in the hospital that day Sarah was born.

Tommy chuckled from the table. “Look at you two, bein’ all sappy. I’d say I’m jealous, but I’m just happy y’all found this.”

Joel laughed and shook his head, glancing down at Sarah, who was reaching out for him. “We’re lucky,” he said, picking her up and holding her close. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

As you watched Joel with your daughter, your heart swelled with a deep, contented happiness. The busy days, the challenges, and the long nights—it was all worth it. You had a family, a home filled with love, and a future that was built on the strength of the bond you shared. Every piece of your life had fallen into place, and there was nothing more you could ask for.

Later that night, after Tommy had left and Sarah was fast asleep in her crib, you and Joel sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light over the room. Joel had his arm draped over your shoulders, and you were curled into his side, a blanket wrapped around the both of you. The house was quiet, a peaceful kind of stillness that only came after a busy day with Sarah.

You sighed contentedly, resting your head on Joel's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been a long day, but these quiet moments together always made it feel like everything was exactly where it should be.

Joel pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “Been thinkin’ a lot about our future,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

You looked up at him, curious. “Yeah? What about it?”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made your heart flutter. “I mean… look at us,” he said, glancing down at you and then toward the hallway where Sarah slept. “We’ve got a beautiful baby girl, a home… but I wanna make sure I’m givin’ y’all the life you deserve.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward you. “Joel, you’re already doing that,” you said earnestly. “We have everything we need. We have each other.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. “I know, darlin’. But I’ve been thinkin’ about what’s next for us. I want to keep buildin’—for us, for Sarah. Maybe someday, we could get a bigger place… one with a backyard where Sarah can run around. And who knows, maybe she won’t be the only little one runnin’ around.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. “Are you saying you want more kids?”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers with yours. “I’d be lyin’ if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But only if you want it too. I just… I love this, our family. I love seein’ Sarah grow and thinkin’ about what’s ahead for all of us.”

You smiled, the thought of expanding your family filling you with warmth. “I love it too,” you said softly. “And I love the idea of giving Sarah a sibling someday. But… no rush, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze full of understanding. “No rush,” he repeated. “I just want us to be happy, however that looks.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. “We already are, Joel,” you whispered. “But I love that we can dream about our future together. Whatever comes next, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do.”

Joel smiled, pulling you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice full of promise.

Life was passing, and you were living it. Every day you woke up feeling the most content person alive, waking up to a wonderful husband and to a beautiful daughter you both had created was the best prize you could have won.

So the time passed, and Sarah’s third birthday arrived. a day filled with laughter, cake, and the joyful chaos of a toddler’s party. The backyard had been transformed into a wonderland of balloons, streamers, and a small play area for the kids, all running around with boundless energy. Joel and Tommy were manning the grill, flipping burgers and laughing as they joked about who had the better cooking skills. You were sitting on the porch, watching Sarah play with her friends, her smile wide as she tore into the wrapping of her presents.

The sight of her beaming with happiness filled you with warmth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It had started earlier in the day, a subtle dizziness that washed over you while you were setting up for the party. At first, you brushed it off, assuming it was just the exhaustion of planning and preparing for the celebration. But as the day went on, the feeling persisted, a faint buzzing in your head that wouldn’t go away.

You stood up from your seat, intending to join Joel and Tommy at the grill, when the dizziness hit you again—stronger this time. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You reached out, gripping the railing of the porch to steady yourself, but it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

“Hey, you alright?” Joel’s voice cut through the haze, his hand suddenly on your shoulder, steadying you.

You blinked a few times, trying to shake the feeling. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, offering him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… a little dizzy. Probably just need to sit down.”

Joel’s brow furrowed with concern, his hand gently guiding you back to the porch swing. “You’ve been actin’ off all day,” he said, kneeling in front of you. “Maybe you should take a break from all this. Let me handle things for a bit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you insisted, though the pounding in your head was starting to grow. You didn’t want to worry him, especially on a day like this, but the unease settling in your chest was hard to ignore.

Just then, Sarah came running over, her tiny hands grabbing onto Joel’s leg as she tugged at his jeans. “Daddy! Come see my new toy!” she squealed, her face lit up with excitement.

Joel gave you a quick look, clearly torn, but you waved him off. “Go, Joel. I’m fine. I’ll just rest for a bit.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded. “Alright. But promise me you’ll tell me if you feel worse.”

You nodded, watching as he stood up and scooped Sarah into his arms, spinning her around as she giggled in delight. You leaned back into the swing, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping that maybe it was just the stress of the day catching up to you. But deep down, you knew something wasn’t right.

The dizziness wasn’t going away. It was getting worse.

A few hours later, after the party had wound down and the guests had left, you were helping Joel clean up when the room suddenly tilted, and your vision blurred again. This time, the dizziness was so overwhelming that you couldn’t stop it. The world spun around you, and before you could call out to Joel, everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you were lying on the couch, Joel’s worried face hovering above you. His hand was gripping yours tightly, and there was fear in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice shaky. “Stay with me. I’m gonna take you to the doctor, alright? You passed out.”

You tried to sit up, but your head throbbed, and Joel gently pushed you back down. “No arguments,” he said firmly. “Somethin’s not right, and we’re gettin’ it checked out.”

You nodded weakly, the fear creeping in as the gravity of the situation began to settle. You hadn’t felt like yourself in days, and now it was clear that it wasn’t just exhaustion. Something was wrong, and as much as you wanted to stay strong for Joel and Sarah, the worry was starting to gnaw at you.

Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

So the next morning, you decided to go to the doctor alone. You assured Joel over breakfast that everything would be fine, putting on your bravest smile as you sipped your coffee. "It’s probably just stress or maybe… maybe even another pregnancy," you joked, trying to keep things light.

Joel wasn’t entirely convinced. His eyes followed your every movement, lingering with concern, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek and promised you’d text him as soon as you knew something. "You’ve got Sarah to watch today. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine."

As you sat in the doctor’s office later that day, waiting for your results, you kept replaying those words in your head

I’ll be fine. You wanted to believe it. You needed to believe it.

The doctor finally entered the room, a somber expression on his face. You sat up a little straighter, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you tried to break the tension. "So… what’s the verdict? Am I pregnant, or do I just need to get more sleep?"

He didn’t smile. That was your first clue.

"We ran some tests based on your symptoms," he began slowly, carefully. "And… I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s not what we hoped."

Your heart plummeted, the air in the room suddenly thick and suffocating. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm.

The doctor took a deep breath, his gaze steady but filled with sympathy. "The dizziness, the fatigue… it's not stress or pregnancy. The tests show signs of a rare, aggressive illness. I’m afraid it’s terminal."

For a moment, you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. It felt like the words were echoing in a tunnel, distant and surreal. "Terminal?" The word barely escaped your lips.

He nodded gently. "I’m very sorry. It’s advanced, and from what we’ve seen, it’s progressed faster than we anticipated. There are treatments to manage symptoms, but… it’s not curable."

Your world shattered in that instant. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow, the weight of the news crashing down like a tidal wave. The future you had imagined, raising Sarah, growing old with Joel, suddenly felt like a distant dream, slipping away before you could grasp it.

You sat there in stunned silence, your mind reeling. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, trying to keep some semblance of control. You didn’t want to break down, not yet.

"What… what’s the timeline?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"It’s hard to say," the doctor replied gently. "Months, maybe a year. We’ll need to monitor closely and discuss the best options moving forward."

The rest of the appointment passed in a haze. You nodded at the right moments, accepted the information he gave you about treatment options, but none of it seemed to stick. The only thing you could think about was how you were going to tell Joel. How you were going to explain to him that your time together was now limited.

As you walked out of the office, the afternoon sun seemed too bright, too cheerful for what you had just learned. You felt numb, as though you were moving through a dream, detached from the reality that had just been placed in front of you.

You sat in your car for a long time, staring at your phone, trying to figure out how to text Joel. You had promised him everything would be fine. You had been so sure of it.

But now, you had to go home and face the hardest conversation of your life.

How were you going to tell the man you loved, the father of your child, that you were dying?

With trembling hands, you finally typed a message

On my way home:)

++++++++

You pulled up to the house, gripping the steering wheel as if it could somehow anchor you to reality.

A year.

You had a year to watch your daughter grow, to be with Joel. It felt so impossibly short, like sand slipping through your fingers. Every moment from now on was precious, but how were you supposed to tell him?

Taking a deep breath, you got out of the car and made your way to the front door. The smell of lunch wafted through the air as you stepped inside, your mind momentarily distracted by the warmth and familiarity of home. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, and your heart ached knowing how much this place had become your safe haven, filled with the people you loved most.

"Mommy!" Sarah’s excited voice snapped you back to reality as she came running towards you, her little arms outstretched.

You bent down, forcing a smile as you scooped her into your arms, hugging her tight, burying your face in her hair. "Hey, baby girl," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you held her a little longer than usual.

As you straightened up, you felt Joel’s eyes on you instantly. He was standing in the kitchen with Tommy and his new girlfriend, Maria, preparing lunch. His gaze locked onto yours, concern immediately flashing across his face. He knew something was wrong.

"We’ll talk later," Joel mouthed quietly, giving you a look that said he wasn’t going to let it go. He always had a way of reading you, knowing when something wasn’t right.

You nodded, your heart sinking further as Sarah wiggled out of your arms and ran back to play. Tommy greeted you with a grin, oblivious to the weight of the news you carried.

"Hey there!" Tommy said, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. "You’re just in time for lunch. Maria made her famous chili. You’re gonna love it."

You forced another smile, but it felt hollow. "Sounds great, Tommy," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Maria looked up from the stove, giving you a warm smile as well. "It’s good to see you. Hope you’re hungry."

But your appetite was the last thing on your mind. You felt like you were moving on autopilot, helping set the table, making small talk, but your thoughts kept circling back to the doctor’s words. Every glance Joel shot your way reminded you of the conversation you still had to have.

Lunch passed in a blur, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation surrounding you as you tried to stay present. But every time you looked at Joel or Sarah, your heart clenched tighter. How could you tell them? How could you face what was coming?

After lunch, Tommy and Maria offered to clean up, and you were grateful for the momentary reprieve. Joel came up behind you, gently placing a hand on your back. "Come with me," he said softly, leading you into the living room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Joel turned to face you, his expression filled with worry. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with fear. "You’ve been off since you got home."

You looked into his eyes, the man you loved more than anything, and you felt the tears welling up. This was it. There was no avoiding it now.

"Joel…" Your voice cracked, and you took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to say the words. "It wasn’t another pregnancy."

Joel’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Then what is it? What did they say?"

Tears finally spilled over as you choked out the words you’d been dreading. "I’m sick, Joel. It’s bad. The doctor… the doctor said I have a year. Maybe less."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Joel’s hand dropped from your face, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What?" he whispered, like he couldn’t quite process what you’d just said.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I’m dying, Joel. There’s nothing they can do. It’s a terminal illness, and… and I only have a year."

The room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Joel just stared at you, his face pale, as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. "No… no, there has to be something… some kind of treatment." His voice cracked, panic seeping in.

You shook your head, your own heart breaking as you watched the man you loved fall apart in front of you. "There’s nothing, Joel. They can manage the symptoms, but… it’s only a matter of time."

Joel let out a ragged breath, his eyes filling with tears as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like if he could just hold on, it would somehow change everything. "No, no… not you. Not now."

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest, feeling the devastation in every fiber of his being as he held you. "I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Joel pulled back, cupping your face in his hands as tears streaked down his own cheeks. "We’ll fight this, okay? We’ll fight this with everything we’ve got. We’ll make the most of every damn second." His voice was thick with emotion, his determination cutting through the pain.

Joel's resolve was fierce and unwavering, a beacon of strength amidst the overwhelming sorrow. His hands gently but firmly cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "We’ll fight this," he repeated, his voice steadier now, a promise amidst the anguish. "I know it's not fair, but we can't give up. We have to make every moment count."

You nodded, trying to draw strength from his determination, though the weight of the reality still felt crushing. "I just want to make sure Sarah has the best memories of us," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I want her to know how much she's loved, even if I'm not there."

Joel's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. "She will know, darlin'. We'll make sure of it. We'll do everything we can to give her the best of us, to show her how much she means to us."

The raw emotion in his voice was palpable, and you could see the resolve in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch as gentle as ever.

“I won’t lose you” he whispered, to himself mostly.

+++++++++++

The house was quiet, the gentle hum of the night providing a somber backdrop to your restless thoughts. Despite the late hour, you found yourself unable to sleep, your mind racing with the weight of what you’d just shared with Joel. The sadness and anxiety seemed to follow you as you moved through the house, a heavy blanket of worry that pressed down on you.

Driven by an instinctive need to be close to your daughter, you quietly made your way to Sarah’s room. The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow of a nightlight casting a warm, reassuring light. You carefully opened the door, trying not to disturb the peacefulness within.

Sarah’s room was filled with the soft, comforting clutter of childhood—a colorful mobile spinning slowly above her crib, stuffed animals scattered around, and drawings she’d made hanging on the walls. You stepped inside, your heart aching at the sight of your little girl sleeping so innocently.

She was nestled under her covers, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a serene glow on her peaceful face. You approached the crib quietly, your footsteps muffled on the soft carpet.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep, the tears that had previously flowed now subsiding into a quiet sadness. Seeing her so calm and content was both comforting and heartbreaking. You reached out a hand, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face, your touch tender and full of love.

As you gazed at her, the reality of your situation seemed to crystallize in a new way. This precious child, so full of life and promise, was the center of your world. The thought of not being there to watch her grow up was almost too much to bear.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "I love you so much, Sarah," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I’m going to make sure you know that, every single day."

The soft rustle of the door alerted you to Joel’s presence. He had followed you quietly, sensing your distress. He stepped into the room, his eyes softening as he saw you standing by Sarah’s crib. Without a word, he came to stand beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"She’s beautiful," Joel murmured, his voice gentle, filled sadness.  

You nodded, leaning into him, the warmth of his presence a small but significant comfort. "I just… I want to make sure she’s okay. I want to make sure she remembers how much I love her.”

Joel’s breath hitched as he listened to your words, the weight of your statement crashing over him like a tidal wave. He stood silently for a moment, his arm still around you, but his grip tightening as he tried to hold himself together. The reality of the situation—the harsh truth of your illness and the limited time you had left—was almost too much for him to bear.

As your words sank in, Joel's composure began to crack. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He buried his face into your shoulder, his body trembling as he let the pain and grief flow freely.

"I can't… I can't believe this," Joel choked out, his voice breaking. "You’re not supposed to go… not now. Not when we’ve finally got everything we ever wanted."

You turned to him, your own tears mixing with his as you gently cupped his face in your hands. "Joel, I wish there was something I could do to change this," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "But right now, all we can do is make the most of the time we have left. I need you to be strong, for Sarah, for us."

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of anguish and determination. "I don’t know how to be strong without you. You’re everything to me."

You wiped away his tears with your thumb, trying to offer some solace. "You have to. For Sarah. She needs you just as much as I do. We both do."

Joel nodded slowly, his sobs subsiding into a series of ragged breaths. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly as if he could somehow shield you from the inevitable. "I’ll do it," he promised, his voice hoarse. "I’ll be strong.”

You rested your forehead against his, your hearts beating in sync as you shared this painful but precious moment together. Every second between you both counted.

“Let me be with you through this. Let me go with you to the doctor and take care of you” he pleaded.

+++++++++++

You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your forehead, the intensity of his love and fear palpable in every touch. His words were both a comfort and a heartbreaking reminder of the reality you were facing.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I need you to be with me through this, too. I can’t do it alone. But I want to be strong for you and Sarah, and I want you to be strong for us."

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll be here. Every step of the way. I promise."

He gently pulled you back from the crib, guiding you to sit on the edge of Sarah's bed. He sat beside you, taking your hand in his and holding it tightly. The simple gesture of his hand enveloping yours was a small but powerful symbol of his unwavering support.

"We’ll face this together," he said, his voice steadying as he spoke. "We’ll go to every appointment, handle every treatment, and make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. We’ll make every day count."

You squeezed his hand, a faint smile touching your lips despite the tears streaming down your face. "Thank you, Joel. It means the world to me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmured. "And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you know that, every single day."

You both sat there for a while, the quiet of the night punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of your sleeping daughter. In that intimate space, amidst the uncertainty and fear, you found a sliver of peace. Together, you faced the daunting road ahead with love and resilience, clinging to each other and to the hope of making the most of every precious moment you had left.

Eventually, Joel helped you up, and you both quietly left Sarah’s room, closing the door softly behind you. As you walked back to your own bedroom, you felt Joel’s steady presence beside you, and though the future was uncertain, you knew that, with him by your side, you would face whatever came with the strength and love that had always defined your life together.

++++++++

Time seemed to slip through your fingers, each day marked by the weight of your diagnosis and the ever-present pain of knowing how limited your time was. Every sunset felt like a reminder of the time slipping away—one day less to share with Joel, one day less to hold Sarah. The urgency of every moment grew more intense, and you clung to each precious second.

You and Joel had a scheduled visit to the doctor, and the tension in the air was palpable. The doctor explained a treatment plan that could help manage your symptoms and ease your pain, but the prospect of spending even more time in a hospital filled you with dread.

As you sat in the sterile, white room, Joel's eyes were fixed on the doctor, but he kept glancing at you, searching for some sign of agreement or understanding. The doctor’s voice was calm and professional, but Joel’s anxiety was palpable as he tried to take in every detail.

"You should start this treatment as soon as possible," the doctor said. "It will help manage the pain and improve your quality of life."

You shook your head, your chest tightening. "I don’t want to be in and out of hospitals. I want to be with Joel and Sarah. I want to spend whatever time I have left with them, not stuck in a hospital room."

Joel’s face reddened with frustration and concern. "But this could make things easier for you. You don’t have to suffer through the pain if you take this treatment!"

"I don’t want to spend my days in a hospital!" you argued back, your voice rising. "I want to be with my family, not lying in a bed surrounded by machines and IV drips. Every day I spend there is a day I lose with you.”

The argument grew heated, both of you caught in the clash between your desire to make the most of your time and Joel's desperation to find any way to alleviate your suffering.

Joel’s face was a mixture of anger and helplessness as he tried to make you understand. "I’m just trying to help you! I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I can’t bear the thought of you in pain."

You took a deep breath, your emotions raw. "I know you’re trying to help, Joel. But I need to live, not just survive. I want to hold Sarah, kiss you goodnight, and make memories with you. I don’t want my last days to be filled with hospital rooms and treatments. I want to be where I can be with you both, as much as possible."

The room fell silent, the gravity of your words sinking in. Joel’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, his hands gripping the edge of the chair tightly. The fight had left him, replaced by a deep, painful realization of the limited time you both had.

Finally, Joel reached out, taking your hand in his with a gentleness that belied the struggle he was feeling. "Alright," he said quietly, his voice weary and tired.

“I don’t want you both to forget me” you said, “I need to know I was important.”

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked at you with a mixture of sadness and determination, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You’ll never be forgotten. You are the most important person in our lives. Sarah will know all about how much you loved her, and I’ll make sure she knows how much you meant to me, too.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the depth of his words. “I just need to be sure that I’m leaving something behind—something that tells you both how much I love you.”

Joel wiped a tear from his cheek, his face softening with a pained smile. “You’ve already left us with so much. Your love, your laughter, your strength… it’s all a part of who we are. And it will be with us, always.”

You squeezed his hand, finding some comfort in his words, even as your heart ached with the reality of your situation. “I want to make sure we make every day count. I want Sarah to have the best memories of us together, of our family.”

Joel nodded; his expression resolute. “We will. Every day will be filled with love and laughter, and we’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you meant to her. We’ll make the most of this time, I promise.”

++++++++

The days that followed were a whirlwind of bittersweet moments, as you and Joel made the most of every precious second together. Despite the heaviness that lingered over your days, there was a sense of determination to fill them with love and joy for both yourself and Sarah.

Every morning, you and Joel would wake up early, watching Sarah’s tiny face light up with a smile as you all shared breakfast together. The simple pleasures of family life became even more cherished. You would spend afternoons at the park, where Sarah’s laughter rang out as she chased butterflies and played on the swings, with Joel pushing her higher and higher.

One of the things you enjoyed most was having movie nights. The three of you would snuggle on the couch, watching animated films and eating popcorn, with Joel often making silly faces to make Sarah giggle. You cherished these moments of simple happiness, knowing they would be treasured memories for your little girl.

Joel also made sure to capture these memories. He took countless photos of you with Sarah, documenting every milestone and every cherished moment. There were days filled with arts and crafts, with Sarah’s tiny hands covered in paint as she created colorful drawings that you proudly displayed around the house.

In the evenings, when Sarah was asleep, you and Joel would sit together, talking about the future and reminiscing about your past. There were tears, but also laughter, as you shared stories and dreams. Joel’s presence was a constant source of comfort and strength, and you found solace in the way he held you close, even as you both faced the reality of the time you had left.

On weekends, you would go on family outings—visiting the zoo, going on picnics, and taking long walks in nature. Joel made sure these outings were filled with joy and wonder for Sarah, creating a world where she felt loved and cherished.

As the months passed, there were moments of quiet reflection. Joel would often hold you close while watching Sarah sleep, whispering reassurances and promises to you. Even in the midst of your struggle, you found strength in the love and support of your family.

And when the time came to say goodbye, it was with the knowledge that you had filled your days with love, laughter, and unforgettable memories. You left behind a legacy of warmth and affection that would continue to live on in the hearts of those you loved most.

++++++++++

the moments you shared with Joel became even more precious. Despite the looming shadow of your illness, you both found solace in each other's arms, drawing strength from the love that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship.

In the evenings, after Sarah had gone to bed, Joel would take your hand and lead you to the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom. There, you would spend time talking, reminiscing, and dreaming of a future that, though limited, was filled with love. You’d sit together on the edge of the bed, holding each other close, sharing whispers of gratitude and affection. The conversations often revolved around how much you meant to each other, the deep love you had for one another, and the life you had built together.

“I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve had,” Joel would say, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’ve made my life so much richer, so much more meaningful. I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, but I know I’ll carry you with me every single day.”

You’d look into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of connection and love. “You’ve been my rock, Joel. Through everything, you’ve been there for me. I’ve loved every second of our life together, and I’m so glad I got to share this time with you.”

Joel would gently brush your hair back from your face, his touch tender and loving. “I’m going to make sure Sarah knows just how much you loved her. I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do. She’s going to grow up knowing how special you were.”

You’d smile through your tears, finding comfort in his words. “And I’ll be with you both in every step you take, every laugh, every tear. I’ll be in the memories we’ve made, in the love that we shared.”

On weekends, you and Joel would find small adventures to embark on, just the two of you. Whether it was taking a scenic drive to your favorite spots, having a quiet dinner at a restaurant you both loved, or simply sitting together in the backyard under the stars, you made sure these moments were filled with love and laughter.

One night, after a particularly special dinner where you reminisced about your favorite moments together, Joel held you close and whispered, “I love you more than words can say. I want you to know that you are everything to me. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had.”

You snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his love. “I love you too, Joel. Every day with you has been a gift, and I’m so glad I got to share this journey with you. You’ve made my life so full.”

++++++++++

One evening, you and Joel had invited Tommy and Maria over for dinner. It was a comforting routine that allowed you to share joyful moments with family, despite the shadow that loomed over your days. The table was set with your favorite dishes, laughter and conversation flowing freely as you all enjoyed the meal together.

Sarah was in her high chair, delighting in the company and the food, her giggles adding a touch of lightness to the atmosphere. Joel was by your side, occasionally glancing at you with a mixture of love and concern. Tommy and Maria chatted animatedly, their warmth creating a cocoon of familiarity and comfort.

But as the evening wore on, you began to feel a growing unease. A wave of dizziness washed over you, and you tried to brush it off, attributing it to the long day and the stress you had been under. However, the feeling didn’t subside. Instead, it intensified, leaving you feeling weak and disoriented.

Joel noticed your discomfort immediately. His face tightened with concern as he reached out to steady you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You forced a smile, but the effort was clearly draining. “I’m just feeling a bit off. I think I need to sit down for a minute.”

Tommy and Maria’s conversation faltered as they noticed the change in the mood. Tommy’s eyes met Joel’s, and the unease was palpable. “Maybe you should go to the hospital,” Tommy suggested gently, his voice carrying a note of urgency.

Joel’s expression shifted to one of determination. He stood up, helping you to your feet with a steadying arm. “We need to get you checked out,” he said firmly, his worry evident.

Maria quickly gathered your things, while Joel helped you into the car. Sarah, sensing the tension, looked up with curious eyes as Tommy comforted her, assuring her everything would be alright.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of anxious thoughts and unspoken fears. Joel’s hand remained tightly clasped around yours, offering both support and strength. The hospital’s bright lights and bustling atmosphere seemed almost surreal as you arrived, your strength waning with each step.

Joel rushed you through the emergency room, the urgency of the situation clear in his eyes. The doctors and nurses quickly took over, guiding you through a series of tests and assessments. Joel remained by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort amid the chaos.

As the minutes ticked by, you could see the worry etched deeply on Joel’s face. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at the clock as if willing time to slow down. The tension in the room was palpable, with Tommy and Maria waiting in the hallway, their faces etched with concern.

Finally, the doctor emerged, and Joel’s heart sank as he saw the somber expression on the doctor’s face. He immediately went to the doctor, his voice trembling as he asked for information. The doctor’s words were gentle but clear: your condition had worsened, and it was only a matter of time.

Joel’s world seemed to tilt, and he struggled to hold back his tears as he returned to your side. He sat beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “I’m here with you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love despite the pain you were experiencing. “Thank you for being here with me”

As you lay in the hospital bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the overhead lights, you found solace in Joel’s presence beside you. His hand was still gripping yours, the warmth and strength of his touch providing a small measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty.

Joel looked at you, his eyes brimming with tears, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "You know," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I keep thinking about how we first met."

You managed a faint smile, despite the heaviness in your chest. "At this very hospital," you said softly. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Joel nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yeah, I remember that day.

You squeezed his hand gently. "And now, here we are again. It's almost poetic, in a way."

Joel’s eyes filled with tears once more as he looked at you, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. "It’s just… so damn unfair. We had so much more to experience together, so many more memories to make. I thought we’d have years, not just a few precious months."

The tears fell freely now, streaming down Joel’s face as he struggled to contain his grief. He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t know how to live in a world without you."

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. "You don’t have to say goodbye yet," you whispered, your own voice breaking. "We still have these moments, these precious days together. And even after I’m gone, you’ll carry my love with you. I’ll be in your heart, in Sarah’s laughter, and in every little thing we’ve shared."

Joel nodded, trying to steady his breath as he wiped away his tears. "I’ll hold on to that. I’ll remember every moment we had, every laugh, every kiss. I’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you loved her, and I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do."

You gazed into his eyes, finding strength in his resolve. "And I’ll be with you both, always. In the memories we’ve made and the love we’ve shared."

Joel leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. "I love you so much," he murmured. "More than words can ever express."

"I love you too," you whispered back. "Forever and always."

The night wore on, the hospital room growing quieter with each passing hour. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became a solemn reminder of the fleeting time left. Your breaths were growing shallower, each one a struggle as the weight of your condition became increasingly apparent.

Joel stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours with a steady grip. His eyes, red from crying, remained fixed on you, his face a mask of heartache and determination. He knew this was the final chapter of your journey, and he was determined to be with you every step of the way.

With a tender and measured touch, Joel reached for Sarah, who had been resting in the care of Tommy and Maria. He gently carried her into the room, her small body nestled against his chest. The sight of her, innocent and unaware of the gravity of the situation, brought a new wave of tears to your eyes.

Joel carefully placed Sarah in your arms, her soft, warm weight providing a bittersweet comfort. You looked down at her cherubic face, feeling a surge of love and sorrow. Your heart ached knowing that you wouldn’t be there to watch her grow up, but you were determined to leave her with a sense of your love.

“Hey, my sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with affection. Sarah looked up at you with curious eyes, her tiny fingers grasping yours. “Mommy loves you so much.”

Joel sat beside you, his hand resting on Sarah’s small back. He looked at you with a mixture of pain and gratitude. “She’s beautiful. She’s going to grow up knowing how much you loved her.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “Promise me you’ll tell her stories about me. About our time together, and how much we loved each other.”

Joel nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I promise. She’ll know all about you. She’ll know how amazing you were, how much you loved her, and how you made every moment special.”

As your breaths grew slower, the room seemed to hold its breath with you. Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here with you,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

You turned your gaze back to Sarah, your voice trembling as you spoke to her. “I’ll always be with you, sweetheart. In your heart, in your dreams, and in every beautiful thing you do. Mommy loves you more than anything.”

Sarah cooed softly, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch your face. You gently caressed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Be good for Daddy. He’ll take care of you, and he’ll love you just as much as I do.”

Joel’s tears fell freely now, his face buried in his hands as he struggled to contain his grief. He took a deep breath, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke to you. “We’ll be okay. We’ll remember you. We’ll make sure Sarah knows how special you were, and we’ll keep you in our hearts forever.”

You took a final, shuddering breath, your strength waning. You looked at Joel one last time, seeing the depth of his love and commitment. “I love you,” you whispered. “Forever and always.”

With that final promise, you closed your eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace. The love that had defined your life, the love that you had shared with Joel and Sarah, would continue to live on in their hearts, a testament to the beautiful and profound bond you had created together.

+++++++++++

The room fell into an overwhelming silence after your final breath. The beeping of the heart monitor ceased, replaced by the quiet sobs of Joel and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Sarah, who remained nestled in your arms. The gravity of the moment settled heavily on Joel, and he carefully took Sarah from your lifeless embrace, holding her close as he struggled to contain his grief.

Tommy and Maria, who had been waiting outside, came in quietly, their eyes red and their faces etched with sorrow. They stood at a respectful distance, offering their support and understanding as Joel cradled Sarah in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

Joel gently laid you back onto the hospital bed, his fingers lingering on your hand as if hoping to feel a last trace of warmth. His heart was shattered, but he knew he had to be strong for Sarah. He reached for the small bundle of joy that was their daughter, holding her close and whispering words of comfort to her.

He glanced around the room, taking in the reality of the situation. The once lively conversations, the shared laughter, and the promises of a future together seemed like a distant memory now. It was a stark contrast to the present, a heavy silence filled with the echoes of your love and the pain of your absence.

Tommy stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Maria nodded; her eyes filled with compassion. “We’ll help you with all the arrangements. We’re here for you, for Sarah.”

Joel managed a nod, his voice hoarse as he replied, “Thank you.”

It was all he managed to say.

+++++++++++

Joel stumbled through the front door of the house, the once familiar warmth now replaced by an overwhelming coldness. Each step felt heavier as he moved through the rooms, his heart aching with the absence of your presence. The house, once filled with laughter and love, now felt hollow and silent.

He made his way to the bedroom, the place where you had shared so many moments of intimacy and comfort. As he entered the room, the emptiness was palpable. The bed, once shared, now seemed too large and lonely. The space you had filled with your presence and love was now a void, echoing with memories.

Joel collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving with the intensity of his grief. He buried his face in the pillow, the scent of you still lingering faintly. Tears streamed down his face as he allowed himself to fully embrace the sorrow that had overtaken him. The silence of the room was only broken by the sound of his sobs, a raw and unrestrained expression of the depth of his pain.

He clutched the pillow, imagining it was you, and whispered your name through his tears. “I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice breaking with every word. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The room felt like a shrine to your memory, filled with remnants of your life together—the framed photographs on the nightstands, the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and the faint traces of your touch. Each item seemed to amplify the void left behind.

Joel’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. He replayed moments from the past—times when you had laughed together, held each other, and dreamed of a future that now felt out of reach. The memories were both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what had been lost and what would never be again.

As he lay there, the exhaustion of the day and the emotional toll finally began to weigh on him. He knew he had to be strong for Sarah, but in this moment, alone in the room that held so many of your shared memories, he allowed himself to grieve. The night stretched out before him, a long and lonely vigil as he wrestled with the enormity of his loss.

Hours later, Joel eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of his grief a constant companion. He knew that tomorrow would bring more challenges, more pain, and more adjustments to a life forever altered by your absence. But for now, the quiet of the night and the space you had shared was all he had, and he clung to it as a bittersweet reminder of the love that would always remain in his heart.

+++++++++++++

On Sarah’s thirteenth birthday, Joel felt a mix of pride and bittersweet nostalgia. It was a significant milestone, and he wanted it to be special for her. The day had been filled with laughter, friends, and celebrations, but there was one more moment that he had been waiting for—a moment he had kept close to his heart.

After the festivities had calmed down and Sarah was surrounded by her friends and family, Joel gently called her aside. “There’s something I want to give you,” he said, his voice carrying a tender note of emotion.

Sarah looked at him with curiosity as he led her to a quiet corner of the house. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. The paper was adorned with a delicate floral design, and a note was attached with a ribbon.

“This is something your mom left for you,” Joel said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “She knew this day would come, and she wanted you to have this.”

Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise as she carefully untied the ribbon and removed the wrapping. Inside was a beautifully crafted jewelry box, its surface intricately designed with floral patterns and delicate engravings. As she lifted the lid, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Inside the box lay a locket, its surface engraved with the initials “S” and “J,” and a small, framed photo of you and Sarah, taken when she was just a baby. The locket contained two small, precious pictures—one of you, and one of Sarah as a newborn.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Joel. “I’ve never seen this before,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Joel nodded, his own eyes misty. “Your mom wanted you to have it on your thirteenth birthday. She wanted you to know how much she loved you and how proud she was of the person you’re becoming.”

Sarah carefully picked up the locket, her fingers brushing the photo of you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “It means so much to me.”

Joel pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she cried softly against him. “She loved you more than anything,” Joel said quietly. “And she’s always with us, in our hearts and in our memories.”

As Sarah held the locket close, she looked up at Joel with a grateful smile. “I’m going to keep this forever,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “It’s a piece of her that I can always carry with me.”

Joel smiled through his tears, feeling a profound sense of peace. “She would be so proud of you,” he said. “And she’ll always be a part of your life, just like she is a part of mine.”

As Sarah clasped the locket around her neck, a gentle warmth seemed to fill the room. Joel noticed a soft, iridescent glow forming in the air, gradually taking shape. His heart skipped a beat as he saw what seemed to be a delicate butterfly, its wings shimmering with a myriad of colors that danced in the light.

The butterfly hovered for a moment, almost as if it were assessing its surroundings, before it gracefully fluttered over to Sarah and Joel. It landed gently on Sarah’s shoulder, its tiny wings fluttering in a serene, almost ethereal manner.

Sarah’s eyes widened in awe as she reached out a trembling hand. The butterfly, with its captivating, almost familiar patterns, seemed to radiate a gentle, comforting presence. Joel stood beside her, his tears now mingled with a profound sense of wonder and calm.

“It’s her,” Joel said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s really her.”

Sarah’s face lit up with a smile, her earlier sadness replaced by a serene joy. “Mom,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the butterfly. “It’s like she’s here with us.”

Joel nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “She’s always with us, in every moment, in every memory. This is her way of reminding us that she’s never truly gone.”

The butterfly remained perched on Sarah’s shoulder for a few more moments before it gently took flight, circling the room in a graceful dance. It finally settled on a nearby windowsill, where it continued to flutter its wings, casting a soft glow in the dim light.

Sarah and Joel watched in awe, their smiles reflecting the profound connection they felt in that moment. The butterfly, with its vibrant colors and delicate grace, was a symbol of the love and presence that transcended time and space.

As the butterfly eventually fluttered away into the night, leaving a trail of shimmering light behind, Joel wrapped his arm around Sarah, pulling her into a warm embrace. “She’s always here, with us,” Joel said softly. “And we’ll carry her memory with us, every day.”

Sarah hugged her father tightly, her heart full of the love and comfort that the butterfly had symbolized. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’ll keep this locket close to remind me of her.”

+++++++++++++++

[tomriddleslove]

i still look for you.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theodore cannot wait to start the next chapter of his life, moving in with you. Alternatively: Memory is a fickle thing.

Warnings: Brief allusion to alcoholism if you squint

Songs: Never find u - Sombr

I bet on losing dogs - Mitski

I wait for you - Alex G

The date reads the 2nd of May, 2002. Theodore looks down at the calendar and for some reason, a horrible feeling of dread pools in his stomach. He can’t exactly tell why.

He shakes it off, yawning lightly as he sits up in bed. He runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light as he looks around his now bare room. His feet touch the bedroom floor, and he sits on the edge of his bed for a second, staring off before getting up.

There was no time for zoning out, he had things to be doing.

With a gentle sigh, he pushes himself off the bed, the warmth of the sheets still clinging to his skin. As he pads into the kitchen, his bare feet lightly brushing against the cool floor tiles, he catches sight of the empty firewhiskey bottle on the counter.

A furrow forms between his brows as he reaches for the bottle, his fingers brushing against the smooth glass surface. Memories of the previous night flicker in his mind, hazy and fragmented.

He must have indulged more than usual.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he meanders back to the bedroom, where cardboard boxes lie in disarray. He reaches into one of the unsealed boxes blindly and tugs on the first thing he finds, a grey knitted sweater and a pair of black slacks. He wanders out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he tosses the few stray things that lay here and there, things he had forgotten to pack the day before.

Theodore, albeit a little hungover, was thrilled. Today was the day he was due to move into his new apartment with you. You would be meeting him in the evening because you had work, however Theodore had a day off, so he would do the bulk of the moving process in the meantime. He’s just slipping his shoes on when the doorbell buzzes. He walks over to the intercom, buzzing the person in.

Theodore presses the button on the intercom, expecting to hear the voice of the moving truck driver but Instead, there's silence.

Frowning slightly, he presses the button again, but still, there's no response.

Yet another thing to solidify his choice to move out of this shitty apartment, as if the prospect of living with you wouldn’t be enough.

“Get- This- Stupid- Fucking- Thing- To- Work-” Theodore grunts, banging his fist into the intercom. Finally, the buzzing sound rings, and he can see the driver entering the flat through the small camera.

With a resigned sigh, Theodore hurriedly shrugs on his jacket. He jogs over to the door as a knock echoes through the apartment, cursing as he almost trips over a box. Kicking it to the side frustratedly, he opens the door.

"Sorry about the intercom," Theodore apologizes as he reaches the driver. "It's been acting up lately."

The driver nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile. "No worries. Let's get these boxes loaded up, shall we?"

They spent the next half an hour carrying the ridiculously heavy boxes down 4 flights of stairs because the elevator had stopped working. Theodore wipes the sweat from his brow as he sets down the last box with a thud, the weight of it nearly causing his arms to tremble. He takes a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He reaches into his pocket and hands the driver what Blaise had informed him to be a form of muggle currency, a flimsy piece of paper with “£50” written on it.

“Thank you for your help,” Theodore says, breathing slightly laboured. The driver was merely doing the job Theodore had paid him to do, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly sympathetic for the clearly older man who had broken out in a sweat by the time they had bought the first two boxes down. The driver frowns as he looks down at the note, then back up at Theodore.

Was it not enough? Had Theodore given him the equivalent of a single sickle?

His misinformed panic quickly subsides when the balding man grins, extending a hand out to Theodore.

“No worries mate. Bit of a drive, isn’t it? How are you getting there?” The man says, and Theodore pales for a second.

What exactly did muggles use again?

“Car,” Theodore blurts after a second, and the man nods, pocketing the £50 note into his shorts.

“Well, I reckon you’ll arrive before me. Should be close to 8 hours, had to tell the missus I wouldn't be home for the day. Had her questioning whether I was working or down at the pub!” He chortles.

Theodore chuckles nervously, feeling slightly out of his element with the man's casual banter. He nods along, trying to appear as though he understands every word, despite the thick accent throwing him off.

"Yeah, the drive should be fine," Theodore replies, forcing a smile. "Thanks again for your help. Really appreciate it."

With a final nod of farewell, Theodore watches as the man heads back to the truck and drives away, leaving him standing alone in front of his old apartment.

Casting one glance around the barren area, he apparates away, appearing in the corridor of his new house in no less than 4 seconds. He truly does pity muggles and their transport, for he couldn't even entertain the idea of having to spend 8 hours trapped in a car.

He walks around the empty house, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagines the countless things you’d do here. The idea of building a life with you, so grossly domestic, brought a grin to his face.

You had been a saviour to Theodore, a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day.

He can still recall the day he had first met you with frighteningly precise clarity, though to Theodore it was only natural that he did, for he was sure he only started living when he had met you. He was only ever bound to fall deeper in love with you from the very first time he had seen you looking up at him with that slightly lopsided grin that sent shivers down his spine and warmth flooding his chest. It was as if the world had suddenly become brighter, more vibrant, simply because you were in it.

Whether it was studying together in the library, sneaking out for midnight strolls around the castle, or simply sitting in comfortable silence, Theodore found himself falling deeper and deeper under your spell.

He snaps out of his daydreams, looking around as he checks his watch.

15:07

This would be the perfect time to go out and explore the town a bit, perhaps find a supermarket.

The driver was due to get here around the same time you would finish work, and Theodore was sure you’d be exhausted. He decided to make you some dinner, knowing how late shifts at the ministry drained you.

Navigating the winding streets, Theodore takes in the sights and sounds of the town, marvelling at the quaint shops and charming architecture. It's a far cry from the bustling streets of Glasgow, but Theodore finds himself drawn to the peaceful atmosphere of the small town.

After 2 hours of finding himself sidetracked by a variety of different shops, he finally finds a supermarket. He heads in and emerges later with his wallet considerably lighter and a handful of bags filled with an unnecessary selection of snacks, and produce.

It was only a further 3 hours later, after Theodore had procrastinated reading a book as he lay sprawled across the remarkably comfy bed that came in the refurbished apartment that he realised for the abundance of cabinets and chairs that the place came with, there would not be a single pot or pan in sight. How Theodore planned to cook tomato soup without a pan, or a chopping board, or a knife at the very least, was beyond him.

With a begrudging sigh, he accepted the financial loss of having to venture back into town to get the necessary culinary equipment. At least now by the time you’d be back from work, the soup would just about be ready, so you could enjoy it nice and fresh.

With the attention span of a 5-year-old, it was only natural for what should have been a 30-minute store run to turn into a 2-hour shopping spree, but Theodore couldn't help it when he saw a second-hand book store and a florist stand that sold green - yes green - tulips (which so happened to be your favourite flower). Entering the apartment once again having sworn to himself that he is not to spend for the next month, Theodore sets down the bags and rolls up his sleeves, washing his hands as he prepares to cook.

Theodore sets to work, chopping vegetables and simmering soup on the stove. The savoury aroma fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh herbs and spices. It's a labour of love, preparing a meal for you after a long day, but Theodore wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks to his admirable procrastination skills, Theodore had managed to pass an impressive 7 hours doing nothing and was only midway through dicing some garlic when a resounding knock echoed through the empty house.

Moving the sizzling pot off the stove, he makes his way over to the door, wiping his garlic-smelling hands on his trousers as he opens the door. The same man stands before him, a truck parked outside as he greets Theodore.

“Cor, smells lovely. Must have gotten here well before me if you're already cooking” The man chuckles, and Theodore nods, fumbling for an excuse.

“Relatively smooth journey.” He nods, haphazardly slipping his shoes on as he follows the man to the empty truck. No longer living on the top floor of a dingy apartment building, the process of moving the boxes was far easier, and no longer than 10 minutes later the driver is (to Theodore's relief), waving goodbye with the large wad of bills clutched in his hands. Theodore sighs as he shuts the door, setting the final box down on top of the coffee table. Boxes lay strewn around the living room, which was connected to the kitchen in an open-plan configuration. Quickly finishing off the last of the cooking so he could leave the soup to simmer, he makes his way over to one of the boxes, ripping at the tape.

He reaches for a picture frame tucked away in one of the smaller boxes. With a tender smile, he carefully removes the frame, revealing a picture of you and him taken during one of your adventures at Hogwarts.

You had just spent the day out in Hogsmeade, and after successfully smuggling 5 bottles of fire whiskey back into the castle, you both sat on the sofa in the common room, a blanket thrown over the two of you. You had a red scarf wrapped around your neck. You loved that scarf, wearing it absolutely everywhere despite Theodore’s protests that you were repping the rivalling house.

You were curled up into Theodore's side, a grin on your face. Mid-laugh, your cheeks and the tip of your nose red as you were looking beyond the camera. It was a simple candid shot taken by Pansy and one that you had found incredibly adorable and immediately framed.

Gently dusting off the frame, Theodore carries it over to one of the shelves in the living room, setting it carefully down.

He hears the sound of the door opening behind him. Turning around, Theodore's heart skips a beat as he sees you standing in the doorway, a tired smile on your face as you kick off your shoes and step inside.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft with exhaustion but filled with warmth.

Theodore's face lights up at the sight of you, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement. Dropping the box he's holding, he rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

"Welcome home," Theodore whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I've missed you."

You return his embrace eagerly, burying your face in his chest as you breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. It's a comforting embrace, and you can’t help but cling to him a little tighter.

You pull away, a small grin tugging at your lips as you look around your new home.

The space may be filled with boxes and scattered belongings, but it already feels like home with Theodore by your side.

"Wow," you murmur, your eyes wandering around the room. "It looks amazing, Theo. You've been busy."

Theodore beams with pride at your words, his heart swelling with happiness.

"I wanted everything to be perfect for when you got home," he says, his voice filled with affection. "And I thought we could celebrate our new place with some homemade tomato soup."

You can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Theodore always knows how to make you feel special, even after a long day at work.

"I love it," you say, crossing the room to wrap your arms around him once more. "And I love you."

You momentarily break away from the hug, reaching over for the ladle, You sneakily take a sip of soup, ignoring Theodore’s gasp of indignation as you groan.

“And I fucking love tomato soup,” You groan, and Theodore can’t help but laugh.

“Go and change. I’ll plate it for us.” Theodore says, moving over one of the boxes labelled ‘Crockery’.

You hum, wandering off to the bathroom. Your voice resounds off the bare walls as you speak.

“Start without me, love. I need to shower and I want to go to bed as soon as possible”

Theodore frowns, ignoring the slight disappointment but agreeing nonetheless. He indulges in a hearty bowl of soup, one set for you on the counter as he leans against the kitchen island.

About 20 or so minutes later, Theodore is washing his bowl, and his attention is drawn to the sound of the bathroom door opening. You emerge, still clad in your work clothes, a tired but content expression on your face. Theodore's eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes.

You had said you were going to shower, so why haven’t you changed? Perhaps you were simply so tired you had forgotten to bring some other clothes, or you didn’t realise. Theodore shrugs it off, far too enamoured by you to ponder on it for long.

You pad into the kitchen as a gentle acoustic melody fills the area, and you look over to see the record player propped up on a still-sealed box, alongside a stack of records. You can't resist teasing him about unpacking the vinyl player first.

"Really, Theo? Out of all the boxes, you had to unpack the record player first?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

Theodore rolls his eyes playfully, but there's a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you into his arms. "Hey, music sets the mood," he defends himself, swaying you gently in a makeshift dance.

You can't help but laugh at his response, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

You shake your head in mock exasperation, but there's a fondness in your gaze as you look up at him.

As the music plays softly in the background, Theodore and you begin to sway to the rhythm, your movements slow and synchronized. The dim light of the kitchen casts a warm glow over the scene, illuminating your faces as you gaze into each other's eyes.

Your hands find their place on Theodore's shoulders, while his hands rest gently on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Theodore's gaze is soft as he looks down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. A small giggle resounds through the kitchen area as he pulls back, hands holding yours as he spins you around.

A small yelp escapes your lips as he dips you, his laughter mingling with yours as you dance with one another. You slow down slightly, resting your head against Theodore's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you move together. The song slowly fades into the next track, and you pull back slightly, resting your chin on Theodore’s chest as you look up at him.

“It’s perfect. It’s everything we spoke about back when we were at Hogwarts” You murmur, and he smiles softly.

“It is” He whispers against your lips, as he leans down to kiss you.

This. This is what home felt like.

It was simple, but it was belonging, and it was belonging with you.

Theodore yawns, and a small grin tugs at your lips as you look at him.

“Go to bed. I’m gonna quickly eat and sort some things out then I’ll join you.” You reassure, pulling away.

He goes to protest but yawns, and realises that he truly was quite tired. With a sheepish smile, he nods, kissing your forehead as he disappears off to the bedroom.

Around half an hour later Theodore's eyes flicker open at the sound of you entering the room.

You settle under the covers, nestled close to each other, sharing the warmth.

"So, how was your day, love?" Theodore asks, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair.

"It was good," you reply with a soft smile. "Busy, as usual, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Theodore nods, his expression filled with understanding. "I'm glad to hear that. You always handle everything with such grace."

You chuckle softly, feeling a pang of bittersweet emotion tugging at your heart. "Well, you know me, always trying to keep it together."

There's a moment of silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Theodore feels a sense of longing, as though he is yearning for something he can't quite grasp.

"You know," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "We should go out to town tomorrow. I found a nice cafe you’d love.” Theodore mumbles, sleep overtaking him as he fights to keep his eyes open.

You remain silent, running a hand through Theodore's hair as his head rests on your chest.

“We’ll see.” You whisper, reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp.

Theodore frowns, slightly confused. He speaks through his half-asleep state.

“Do you have work tomorrow? It’s a Sunday, you never work on Sundays,” He mutters.

You pause, your heart skipping a beat at his words. A pang of sadness washes over you, but you push it aside.

“We’ll see tomorrow.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to Theodore’s forehead.

Theodore hums, curling into you closer as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You make it sound like you’re going to disappear.” He mumbles into your neck. A small smile tugs at your lips as you wrap your arm around him and let your eyes flicker closed.

“I love you, Theodore.” You whisper, before you both succumb to sleep.

Dawn breaks, the gentle glow of the morning sunlight casting a serene glow on the bedroom. As Theodore wakes up in the morning he reaches out, sleepily fumbling around for you. His hand reaches out but finds only empty space, the other side of the bed cold. Groggy and disoriented, he blinks away the remnants of sleep, trying to shake off the fog that clouds his mind.

With a heavy sigh, he sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he takes in the quietness of the room. It's too quiet, he realizes as if the very absence of sound weighs down on him.

Pushing himself out of bed, Theodore pads across the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He wanders through the empty house, the silence feeling oppressive now.

“[Name]?” He mumbles out, looking around.

No response.

He frowns. Today was a Sunday. You never worked on Sundays. Surely, if you were working, you would have told him.

His phone pings and he’s momentarily distracted, looking down at his home screen.

Blaise: We’re always here for you. It might not get easier but we’re all here to help. Sending you love.

Theodore frowns, utterly confused. It was such a morbid message from Blaise out of the blue.

He doesn’t have much time to unpack the meaning, however.

Entering the kitchen, Theodore's gaze falls upon the untouched bowl of soup on the counter. Confusion furrows his brow as he approaches it, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

"[Name]?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the empty room. There's no response, just the silence that seems to press in on him from all sides.

Becoming more awake now, Theodore's movements become more frantic as he searches the house, calling out your name with increasing urgency. But there's no sign of you, no trace of your presence anywhere.

Panic begins to rise within him, checking each room as your name falls from his lips in desperation.

Stumbling back into the living room, he walks to the corridor but pauses when a glimpse of a white card catches his eye, poking out from the box laying atop the coffee table. He feels inexplicably drawn to it, a nagging feeling telling him to pause his searches for you.

Frowning, he tugs it out of the box, and his eyes roam over the small, A5 sheet of card.

In Loving Memory of [Name] [Last Name]

14/04/1981 - 3/05/1998

oh.

right.

Theodore's heart lurches in his chest as he reads the words on the card, a cold shiver running down his spine.

He reads the dates again, his mind struggling to grasp everything.

Theodore sinks onto the nearest chair, his hands trembling as he clutches the card tightly. Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the truth, the weight of his grief crashing down on him with a crushing force.

It all makes sense now. The inexplicable moments of confusion, the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. He had been living in a dream, clinging to a reality that no longer existed.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. Grief made him acknowledge that you were gone, that you had been gone for four years, but love made him think you’d walk through the door any moment with a tired smile tugging at your lips. Love made him think he could cook for you and sit down with you at the end of the long day. Grief made him accept you would never be here again but love? Love made him look for you.

Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the reality of your absence, a hollow ache settling in the pit of his stomach. How could he have been so blind, so foolish to believe that you were still here with him?

He feels suffocated by the emptiness of the house, the silence echoing like a constant reminder of what he has lost.

His movements uncoordinated and shaky, he stumbles as he walks over to the kitchen. He haphazardly throws open cabinets as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey, his fingers fumbling as he struggles to twist off the cap. Taking a massive swig straight from the bottle, he welcomes the burning sensation that courses down his throat, momentarily dulling the pain that constricts his airways.

Theodore stumbles back to the bedroom, the bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. As he navigates through the maze of boxes, he knocks one over, its contents spilling out onto the floor. He curses as he knocks it over, and in a cruel twist of fate, a red scarf is sent tumbling out of the box.

His breath catches in his throat as he picks up the scarf, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric. Somehow, it still carries the faint scent of your perfume, a haunting reminder of your presence that lingers in the air.

“Fuck!” Theodore shouts, smashing the bottle of whiskey against the kitchen counter as he holds onto the scarf.

Curses and shouts of anguish tear from his throat, echoing off the walls of the empty house like a sick symphony . He smashes the contents of the box with reckless abandon, the sound of breaking glass filling the air.

But as suddenly as his outburst began, it comes to an abrupt halt; Theodore's chest heaves with exertion. Panting heavily, he stares blankly at the wreckage around him, the full weight of his actions sinking in.

For a moment, there's only silence, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths.

He wanted none of this. None of these stupid things, or this stupid house. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of you. Perhaps it was because everything he did, was for you. Whether you were in this life or the next.

He kicks the scattered mess around him, walking off to the bedroom.

Tears well up in Theodore's eyes as he collapses onto the bed, clutching the scarf to his chest with a desperate grip. His body racks with sobs as he holds onto the memory of you tightly, and he can only pray that he’ll wake up and you’ll be there.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. And with the way Theodore loved loves you, he was only ever bound to such a miserable demise.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @batmandabest @always-reading @multifandom-worlds

[simpingforheros]

Bring Me To Life

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Summary: Destroy the Batman and get his companion back? Jason almost didn't believe Slade until... Warnings: Usage of female pronouns, Nudity (NO smut), Swearing, Character Death, Angst, Resurrection, Infantization ( I didn't know how to better describe this), Unhealthy relationship dynamics, Kinda Dark/Obsessive! Jason, Mentions Electroshock therapy, Implied Brainwashing, Slade being a creep, Mentions of Drug Abuse, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Child Homelessness and unsafe situations, SPOILERS for Death in the Family (Comic 1988) and Arkham Knight.

Author's Note: Hiya Everyone, This is the first fanfic I've written in a while and the christianing fic for this account. I may start a casual little series with this, but I don't know yet. Also any comic and game inaccuracies are either because I forgot or I adjusted it to fit the story.

Also while this post is mostly safe for work, MINORS DNF AND PLEASE READ WARNINGS. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANYONE TO STEAL MY WORK OR REPOST IT ON OTHER SITES.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was supposed to be him...

Those dark nights he had spent alone on the streets as a child didn't seem so bad looking back on it. Jason understood struggle even when he had lived with his parents who spent grocery money on alcohol and drugs. Living on the streets didn't feel so much worse, especially since he had... "Jason, Mr. Accetta gave me some scraps from dinner rush today! There's even a whole pizza in here!"

Her. His one friend had since he was thrown into this harsh world. She was the only person he knew at the time to never stop smiling or finding a positive outlook on things. He couldn't even remember when they met, but he could hardly remember them being apart.

Whether he was stealing or fighting, she was there as a faithful lookout or a willing accomplice. She taught him how to take tires off of cars like her granddad taught her and he taught her how to throw a punch like his dad used to throw. An unstoppable duo who ran the alley as well as two 11-year-olds could.

The harsh winter nights they spent crowding together were his favorite memories from that time. Even with the bite of Gotham's winds at their toes, his partner would never falter to talk about anything and everything as he listened. She would talk about her dead grandparents a lot and all the stories she had with them before they passed away, but his mind couldn't recall them at all. He just remembers the constant dream that she told him every night.

"One day, Jay, I'm gonna have enough money and get an apartment in Old Gotham..." Jason's nose turns up as he listens to his friend as he bites on his food. "Why Old Gotham? Isn't it just falling apart?"

She giggles as she pulls the oversized coat closer to her shivering body. The jacket was from a relative but the fabric lost those memories as its fibers were now bones. She still had it even after she left the streets...

"Because it's the most beautiful place in the world...I will get an apartment someday and you and I will live there. We can even get like a cat or something."

The familiar burn on Jason's face blooms as he asks, "Why would you want me there?"

"Because it wouldn't be my dream home unless you're there with me."

He wouldn't find out until a few years later that her grandparents used to live in Old Gotham until her grandfather died and her grandmother had to move as she would unknowingly follow her husband not even a year later...

Those nights in the streets melted into nights spent in the warmth of Wayne manor. As the two thieves became kings after a faithful night with the Batmobile, Jason was brought into the world of crime fighting along with his closest friend. As they trained and donned their capes, She would show a new side of herself to Jason. The overly happy young girl from the streets became an anxious teenager as he became angerier.

"Jason..." Her voice woke him up in the darkest of nights. His body ached from the nightly fights from the previous day as he turned to see a familiar sight.

A now 14-year-old Y/N standing in the crack of the door. Her fidgeting figure indicated all he needed to know before he raised his blanket as she scurried to get in the bed. This was a ritual that started when they moved in. Both would grow anxious at night as they went from the open streets to a large, confining manor. Alfred almost had given up on trying to scold the teens as they were found sharing a bed more times than being separated.

As she curled into his side as much as she could without hurting him, he could practically hear her mind tinkering as her E/C eyes stared into his chest.

There wasn't the need to discuss what was on her mind. At least not right now. She was concerned about the growing tension between Bruce and Jason. He was becoming reckless and Bruce was having none of it with her often getting dragged into the middle of the fights.

He hated that he never tried more...

It shouldn't have surprised him when all the conflict had finally caused a break in the family. Especially when Jason began looking for his birth mother. Y/N tried to be supportive of him as he investigated his leads. Those leads eventually led to Jason reuniting with Bruce as he investigated a possible arms trade in Lebanon. The reconciliation and the prospect of finding his mother left him blind to any form of common sense, but what kind of common sense could a fifteen-year-old make in the life they lived?

He should have listened to her concerns when they finally found Sheila Haywood, his real mother. Y/N had a bad feeling from the start but he dismissed her worries. Jason had no clue that the night he was supposed to meet with Sheila was gonna end up being one of the worst nights of his life....

"Jason, maybe you should wait for Bruce to be here so he can come with you." She suggested softly.

His eyes roll as he adjusts his costume. "Because it's none of his business. I'm just meeting with my mom and talking out some stuff..."

He didn't tell her about the blackmailing he witnessed earlier that day between his mother and the Joker. But, he would find out later that she already knew about it through Bruce.

Her hand reaches for his shoulder and pulls him around to face her. "I'm serious. You shouldn't meet with a woman you barely know in some fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere!"

Jason can remember the hurt he felt when he heard her snap at him, Oh, how angry he got with her when all she wanted was to protect him. He remembers yelling at her the worst thing he thought he could say to her.

Why the fuck did he ever say that to her?

"I'm sorry your parents didn't want anything to fucking do with you, but I'm not gonna let your bitter ass ruin my shot to be with mine."

He remembers the hurt that filled her eyes and the string of regret pooling in his gut. With a fake smile on her face and tears pooling in her eyes, Y/N says softly,

"Okay...I'm sorry," The sharp sting in his neck as she pressed the vial of sedatives Bruce gave her into his veins. "I'm sorry to do this, Jason, but Bruce said you wouldn't go down that easily."

Jason couldn't remember what he said after the spark of betrayal hit him, but he hated himself that the last time he saw those eyes they were clouded with the tears he caused....

"Y/N! Please talk to me!" Jason begs into the coms as he rod on the back of the motorbike with Bruce.

He should have known. Her instincts are never wrong and he doubted her.

When Bruce found him unconscious and told him about how Joker was involved in all of this, Jason should have known that it was all a trap. His mother wasn't a poor blackmailed soul, she was a conniving bitch who profitted.

He also should have known that Y/N was gonna go meet with Sheila instead of him. Where the Joker was waiting for her.

"Y/N, please. Please be okay...." He begged to the coms as he can only think about what he said to her the last time they spoke.

"J...Jason...."

"Y/N!" Relief washed over him like a wave as he heard her voice. Her broken pained moaned of his voice made him sick as he tried to at least rationalized that at least she was alive. "Don't worry, honey. We know where you are and we're coming to help you."

He didn't know that she was laying battered and broken against the locked door as she stared at the bomb that was ticking away on the wall. Her labored breaths blocked out the ticking on the comms as she whispers out.

00:12

"Do you remember the apartment?..."

"What apartment? The one you talked about in the alley? Why are you-?"

She interupts him, he can hear the familiar curl of her smile in her pained voice as she whispered,

"I wanted it to have a window facing the east end...the stars always looked pretty over there..."

00:10

"Y/N, what are you-"

"I wanted one of those Tabby-looking cats like the ones we saw in the alleyway outside of Mr. Accetta's restaurant...Name it Frank after that old Italian fucker...I was hoping we could go back and actually buy dinner in that restaurant someday..."

00:08

"Are you okay? Why are you talking like this? We are almost there. I can see the building! We are almost here. I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU."

Jason's desperation was palpable as he heard his beloved talk like she was on her deathbed. His panic causes Bruce to drive faster as the Batcycle inches closer to the warehouse. "Jason"

00:04

"Jason, I love you...I have since I was 13..." She admits as her voice trembles. "I used to dream we would become the family we always wanted with each other...Thank you for being in my life and I'm sorry I let you down..."

00:03

"Y/N, I -"

00:02

"Wait!"

00:01

"Goodbye, Jason..."

.

.

.

It should have been him who died that night... It was supposed to be him. NOT HER.

Jason blamed himself for her death as soon as he helped pull her broken corpse out of the rubble. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't her. This wasn't his Batgirl. Not his best friend who would run around the manor with him or help him pickpocket pedo freaks on the street. This broken little girl that was in his adoptive father's arms wasn't his first love. She was a bright, kind light who protected her loved ones, not this broken shell who wore her skin...

But, it was her...

He blamed Bruce for it too. He was the one gave her the orders to keep Jason away from the warehouse. He had to have known that she was gonna go instead. Bruce should have known she was because she wanted to be wrong about Sheila so Jason could be happy...

He also blamed the Joker. He wanted that Clown dead... His opportunity presents itself after he tracks Joker down to an abandoned wing of Arkham trying to flee from blowing up a children's hospital.

Blinded by his rage and bloodlust, Jason went in alone and without any communication. Y/N would scold him in her grave as he fell for the trap, sealing him in a cycle of hell for a year.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What if I could?"

"Do what?"

"Bring her back. Would you be willing to work for Crane if I could bring back the little Batgirl?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knew it was bullshit.

Bringing back someone from the dead was impossible.

Jason would have been satisfied if his pseudo-partner/ prisoner, Deathstroke, just told him that he would be able to kill the Batman and wipe the hell hole that is Gotham off the face of the earth. He already dedicated a full year after his escape from Arkham to building his army.

His only regret during this time was not killing Joker himself. Even after all the torture and pain that clown did to him, he regretted not bashing the Joker's skull in after their last encounter as Slade helped him escape. It wouldn't have mattered to him at the time that Slade would have killed him because it wouldn't have been revenge for his own torture.

it would have been for Y/N. For the hell she faced that night. After a few months in Arkham, Jason almost accepted his torture as punishment for not dying that day for her because he experienced everything she felt. Every day he experienced everything she had to feel those short agonizing hours for an entire year. She must have been so scared and Jason couldn't save her.

The only thing that kept him from giving up was the memories he had of her and the burning hatred for those who caused her light to be snuffed out too soon.

He just wanted to feel that warmth again...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"If you can do that, then I'll burn the whole world to the ground for that fucking lunatic."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Please Jason. Let us help you!" Barbara Gordan begged from her cell as Jason snaps at her.

"THERE IS NO HELPING! I CAN FIX IT!"

Jason was manic. His men were being tugged around like dog toys by Batman and Slade had left him hours ago to attend some matter he didn't care to ask about. His time was running thin and he knows he needs to end this soon. It didn't help that those he didn't want involved are here as well like Barbara.

"Sir..." A militia soldier says as he nervously walks into the room. HIs men were already aware how stupid it was to come near him when he's in a crazed anger. Jason's head whipped at him like a feral man as he grits out.

"What is it?"

"Deathstroke is here...and he uh..."

Impatience reaches a boiling point as Jason raises his gun and shoots the militia solider in the head as Barbara shrieks. The red puddle of death fills the sterile room with lead as Deathstroke walts in. Jason turns his back towards him as places his helmet back into place.

"My, what a mess you made." Deathstroke mockingly scolds. The hidden smirk almost causes Jason to snap again.

"Where have you been? Batman is out there taking down my tanks faster than my men can repair them. You told m-!"

The Arkham Knight's monologue was intruppted as he turns to scold Slade by his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight before him. He swore that if he didn't hear Barbara's gasp and the whisper of fate's name, he would have woken up back in that dreaded wing of Arkham Asylum.

Slade chuckles as he rattles the chain in his hand as he says coyly, "What? Am I not allowed to go fetch your payment?"

Standing behind Deathstroke was a naked woman. Her tangled up (H/C) hair ran down her shoulders as her wide innocent eyes shined through the now white tendrils framing her face. Her body seemed more mature but all muscle mass she had was faded. Her face seemed aged but he recognized the curve of her nose and those lips he imagined smiling at him through his darkest moments.

"Y/N?" He helplessly calls out to her as he feels himself pulled towards her like a magnet.

If it wasn't for the stark white streak and gnarly, painful-looking scars on her body, Jason would have thought this was Scarecrow's fear toxin. It couldn't be possible, right? She was dead. He knew she was because he held her body. He felt how cold she was and watched how her lifeless eyes looked up to the ash ridden sky.

Those eyes now looked at him with no familiarity, but a childlike wonder as she naively smiles at him.

"How?" Was all the Arkham Knight could muster as he reaches to grab her. To pull her into his arms and never let her leave.

Deathstroke grabs the collar that was wrapped around her neck and yanks her back behind him as she chokes on her breath. He chuckles as he looks back into Jason's voiceless mask.

"The Lazarus Pit brought back her body." He explains as he hauntingly twirls the chain in his hand. "Of course, after you agreed to work with Crane, I brought her back immediately. Unfortunately, the poor thing suffered from Pit Madness."

A cruel smirk appears on Deathstrokes lips as he pushes the girl's hair back to reveal circular scars on her temples. Jason felt rage bubbling up in his throat as he recognized what those scars were.

Prolonged Electroshock Therapy

"You sick!" Before Jason could throw a punch, Slade places his gun on Y/N's forehead as he chuckles. The woman didn't even sense the danger as she continued to observe everyone with a curious eye. Jason immediately backs off as Slade continues.

"Of course. Her treatment did cause her to be cured of the madness but at the cost of her memories. She barely remembers how to take care of herself so you make it like that. Especially when you want to fuck her."

Jason was thankful for his mask as he would have killed him from his glare. To imply that she was just a potential fucktoy made him itch to bury this man in the deepest bowels of hell. As he quietly glares at him, Slade finally offers him the chain. The Arkham Knight accepts the chain as the assassin warns him,

"Now since you got your payment. You better keep your end of the deal..." His voice becomes threatening as he says.

"Because I can easily kill her just as I brought her back.'"

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AN: I was gonna write more, but I got exhausted so this is all I got. Let me know if it's a vibe or not.

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@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT CREDIT.

[sideprince]

Eileen Prince

I'm relentlessly curious about how a witch from Slytherin, a house that values cunning and ambition on paper, and bloodlines/nobility in its culture, ended up living in a muggle slum.

Unfortunately for me, she's a barely mentioned character written by an author who consistently fails to portray female characters with depth or dimension. The women in Harry Potter are portrayed as either maternal or villains, or, in Ginny Weasley's case, as redeemed by their masculine traits (because Rowling's Thatcher era feminism dictates that equality for women = emulating patriarchal ideas of manhood). About as much as you can expect from an author who's as unable to acknowledge the personhood of trans women as she is to write women as actual people. This leaves a lot of room for interpreting or delving into what Eileen Prince's life may have looked like, and how that would have affected her son's development.

There are three direct mentions of Eileen in the text :

“The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.”

HBP Ch. 25

“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a" “ — murderer,” spat Harry.

HBP ch. 30

“Harry looked around: he was on platform nine and three-quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him.”

DH Ch. 33

(Shoutout to Harry James Potter, who didn't recognize Eileen's fifth year photo despite her resemblance to Snape, the teacher whose classroom he got his used Potions book from. Shoutout also to Harry James Potter who didn't connect the dots between the Prince's handwriting and Snape's, a teacher who regularly wrote instructions on the board. "I needed to make the plot work, ok?" - JK Rowling, probably.)

Other relevant excerpts:

“Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ”

OoTP Ch. 26

“Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.”

HBP Ch. 16

Supplemental material re: Gobstones from JK Rowling:

"...it remains a minority sport within the wizarding world, and does not enjoy a very ‘cool’ reputation, something its devotees tend to resent. Gobstones is most popular among very young wizards and witches, but they generally ‘grow out’ of the game, becoming more interested in Quidditch as they grow older.  ... Gobstones enjoys limited popularity at Hogwarts, ranking low among recreational activities, way behind Quidditch and even Wizarding Chess." [There's an additional sentence on the Harry Potter wiki's Gobstones page: "...it is also known as 'the thinking wizard's Quidditch.'"]

A few conclusions can be drawn from what little information we're given about Eileen:

She's described as "cross and sullen" around the age of 15, and as "sallow-faced, sour-looking" when she's older.

She's captain of the Gobstones club around her fifth year, so she likely marched to the beat of her own drum - given that Gobstones isn't particularly popular - and owns it proudly enough to take, or even seek out, a leadership role.

The sport is described as "the thinking wizard's Quidditch" which would imply Eileen was more interested in intellectual challenges and was clever (and can be paralleled with a young Severus' comment about "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy" to James Potter when they first meet on the Hogwarts Express).

Her marriage and the birth of her son are both announced in the paper, which might mean the family she came from was of some importance or note, or perhaps something else... but we'll get to that.

If we assume that Severus' secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making was originally Eileen's (reasonable, though there is no textual evidence) then its publication date is likely around the time she was a sixth year, given that this particular text was specific to students beginning to prep for N.E.W.T. exams. Harry begins his sixth year in 1996 when the book is "nearly fifty years old," so we can assume Eileen was 16 years old sometime not long after 1946. Severus was born in 1960, which would mean Eileen was in her mid-late 20s at the time.

Her marriage was dysfunctional at best, abusive at worst. As per a Pottermore post that is still up on WizardingWorld.com: "...the desperately lonely and unhappy childhood [Severus] had with a harsh father who didn’t hold back when it came to the whip." Based on this, we can assume Tobias was abusive, and given Eileen's cowering as he shouted at her, she presumably feared him.

From these bits of information emerges the image of a woman who either had a surly personality, or at the very least was guarded, though perhaps just formal. There isn't really any difference in how her face is set when she's in an everyday setting like King's Cross, or when she's having her picture taken for the Gobstones Club. It's possible she was a stern, unsmiling person, but it's also possible - given that her wedding and child were announced in the paper - that she came from a family of some standing and was raised to conduct herself with hallmarks of British class, such as dignity and unaffectedness. After all, there are several wizarding families - such as the Potters - who are wealthy purebloods with social standing but are not part of the Sacred 28. Additionally, the Gobstones Club portrait would have been taken around the mid-1940s, when portraits were formal and their subjects did not often smile, and given that we see only a snippet of Eileen, we don't have enough information that she was unhappy or sour. It's also important to remember that we see her portrait and Snape's memory of her through Harry's perspective and, like his perception of Snape himself, this may convey Harry's biases.

We also know from the text that Snape had a house in a deserted part of Cokeworth, a fictional Midlands town that presumably had a collapsed milling industry, at the end of a street called Spinner's End. There's a great thread that goes into details about the kind of 2 up 2 down house it would have been, and we can assume that this is Snape's family home given that we know he and Lily grew up in Cokeworth. For all intents and purposes, the conclusion we can draw from this being the Snape family's home in the 60s is that they were working class and cripplingly poor. Most estates like this had been cleared by the 60s, and no longer exist today.

This begs the question: how did a witch from a possibly well-off family end up in an abusive marriage in an irrelevant slum?

Buckle up kids, we're leaving the world of textual references and veering into deep meta territory now. I won't label any of this as head canon because I'm not set on these interpretations, and am just drawing conclusions from the text, but some of it may be a bit loose even for meta.

If Eileen was 16 years old not long after 1946, then she would have finished school in the late 40s, possibly even 1950. While some people (including past me) posit the theory that Tobias may have been injured in WWII and his injuries debilitated him, forcing him to go on the dole and affecting his mental health, I'm increasingly skeptical of this theory. It would make more sense if Eileen had known him before he was drafted/enlisted and had committed to a relationship with him, which would then have changed when he came back from the war and was altered. If we assume Eileen's age based on the idea that it was her own copy of Advanced Potion Making Severus used, then she would still have been at school during WWII (which makes an interesting parallel with Severus' own experience of spending the bulk of the first wizarding war against Voldemort as a student at school).

I do think, however, that there's merit in the theory that Tobias suffered some kind of altering injury and that he wasn't necessarily abusive before Eileen committed herself to him. It makes little sense for a Slytherin graduate who was confident and self-posessed enough to be the face of an unpopular club to be drawn to a partner so abusive his shouts caused her to cower and who whipped his child freely. If, however, he was a charming, happy man when they met who suffered a life-altering injury, the trauma of which left him a shell of his former self, then someone like Eileen might stick around for the sake of the parts of his old self she can still see in him.

It's interesting that she didn't seem to use her magic to protect herself or her son, or even to dress her son in clothing that fit, but we know from the text that depression can cause a wizard's powers to wane:

“...it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen”

HBP Ch. 13 (Dumbledore talking about Merope Gaunt)

The fact that the Snapes retained the house in Spinner's End seems to indicate that they continued to live there even when the local industry dried up and the slum was cleared as workers were moved to other parts of the country where they were needed (presumably what happened given *gestures at British history*). The most likely explanation for this would be that Tobias wasn't able to work, and perhaps did suffer an injury, only it was at work, and not during the war. This would mean the family lived on the dole (ie. welfare) and also that he would have spent a lot more time at home. It would also explain his anger and frustration that led to abusive behavior (which isn't to say that disabled people are abusive by any means, but it would have been emasculating for a man who considered himself the breadwinner in the 60s, and chronic pain coupled with limited abilities would give anyone a short fuse).

Moreover, this living situation seems to indicate that there is no additional support coming from anywhere. Where is Eileen's family? Why were they not helping? There's no indication in the text that there is any connection with them at all. We can infer from Snape's memories that, as a child, he learned what he knew about the magical world from his mother. This implies that she talked to him about it a fair amount, and his conviction that he and Lily were going to Hogwarts well before they got their letters also implies that Eileen expected him to go there and was set on her son having a magical education, despite how little she seemed to use her own powers.

Severus knows a lot about the wizarding world as a child, including that prisoners are sent to Azkaban and that it's guarded by Dementors, Hogwarts' house structure and what to expect when he and Lily get there, and about the Statute of Secrecy and the laws around it. When Lily asks him if it makes a difference being Muggleborn, Severus hesitates before replying no, presumably because he's aware of pureblood bias being a part of wizarding culture.

Perhaps that's the reason Eileen's family doesn't seem to be in the picture. My own theory is that Eileen hadn't planned to commit herself to Tobias long-term, and Severus was an accidental outcome of an innocent tryst in which a young Eileen, an educated witch from a well to do pureblood family, was having fun slumming it with a working class muggle and ended up pregnant. While we don't know the wizarding world's attitude around pregnancy and abortion, we do know it's a conservative and classist society that parallels muggle British culture fairly closely, and that the late 50s/early 60s were a time when an out of wedlock baby would have been considered a disgrace.

Add to that the anti-muggle bias of a pureblood family and it sounds like Eileen was disowned her for her mistake (and don't @ me, but even though I know that not all Slytherins are purebloods, it does seem to be a persistent cultural value of the house reaching back to Salazar Slytherin himself, so Eileen's being sorted into it can reasonably be taken as an indication of her blood status). Perhaps the marriage and birth announcements in the Daily Prophet were put in by Eileen herself, if she was a woman from a family where this was customary. It may have been her way of letting her family know of the events, or even of asserting herself and even deliberately defying them, announcing to the whole wizarding world that a Prince married and had a child with a muggle. It makes sense that the girl who wasn't just in the Gobstones club, but became captain, would also say to herself, why shouldn't I have my marriage announced in the paper like everyone else in the family?

It's worth noting that mid-late 20s is pretty young to have a baby in the wizarding world, where the life expectancy and child bearing years are much longer than they are for a muggle. According to the Harry Potter wiki:

"Wizard life expectancy in Britain reached an average 137¾ years in the mid-1990s, according to the Ministry of Divine Health ... Wizards in general have a much longer life expectancy than Muggles, usually living two or three times as long as their non magical counterparts, some living even longer than that depending on circumstances. In addition, seeing as James Potter's parents had him "late in life,” witches likely have significantly longer childbearing years than Muggle women."

Although we see several characters in Severus' generation getting married and having kids not long after leaving school, there's a mention in the text that a lot of people were doing this during Voldemort's reign, as the fear he inspired made people more eager to get a move on with life since they thought they might die any day (I think Mrs. Weasley says this but I can't find the quote, @ me if you do). It's clear this wasn't the norm in the wizarding world. Eileen was a Slytherin, a house that values cunning, ambition, and strong wizarding heritage. Something must have gone very wrong in Eileen's life for her to end up having a child so young and living in a muggle slum.

And so it's possible Eileen Prince found herself pregnant and alone, having been disowned by her family to save face in light of her disgrace, and dependent on the only person she was still close to, the father of her child. It's the kind of storyline that Rowling would write, and it would parallel fairly closely the story of Voldemort's mother, thus adding another to the long list of similarities between Voldemort and Snape.

Lorrie Kim makes an interesting point when she talks about how Snape has a strong reaction to other people having a love life or romantic experiences (the context being Rowling's intention of his love for Lily being romantic and unrequited), but doesn't react particularly strongly to mothers sacrificing themselves for their children, whereas Voldemort does. Her insight, and I think it's a reasonable one, is that Severus accepts the idea of mothers making sacrifices for their children, whether it's Lily giving her life for Harry or Narcissa risking all she did to ask for his help in protecting Draco, because his own mother protected him from his father as much as she could.

There's a lot of room for interpretation on what Eileen's relationship with her son looked like, and what it says about her own state. She may have prioritized not angering Tobias to protect Severus, who as a child might have perceived her actions as a form of rejection. At the same time, she seems to have prepared him thoroughly for life in the magical world, perhaps in the hope that he would find his place in it and escape home. Perhaps she missed it and told him so much about it so she could live through her own memories.

The only time we see her argue with Tobias, in Severus' memory, she's cowering as he shouts. We know from JK Rowling that Tobias used corporal punishment liberally, which implies Eileen didn't stop him despite her magical abilities. We also see in the text, however, that while at school Severus stood up for himself against bullies and fought back, and that he was an exceptionally clever and powerful wizard. As an adult he was brave enough to face Dumbledore when he betrayed Voldemort, and later fought against Voldemort right under his nose (or lack thereof). So it stands to reason that at some point Severus began to stand up against Tobias too.

How much of that was Eileen's influence, or the result of Severus seeing her acceptance of her fate and rejecting it for himself, is hard to say. As for what happened to Tobias and Eileen that their house was Severus' by the mid-90s and they were nowhere in sight, I don't think there's enough information in the text to infer.

[yoonguurt]

Summary: A failed relationship and an ailing mother forces Y/N to move back to her hometown, despite not wanting to.  She knows in her heart that everything will be the same as the day she left. Nothing ever changes in a small town. Except when it does. A new neighbor, a new hardware store, and two new additions to the town bring the holiday magic into Y/N’s life. The question is, will the magic stay or will the ghost of Christmas past ruin everything?

Pairing: non idol!San × reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Trope: strangers to lovers

Word count: 15,207 (yikes)

Warnings: mentions of death of a parent, mentions of cheating (not San or reader), mentions of depression and antidepressants, reader's mother is in poor health. Smut warnings under the cut.

A/n: this is the longest fic I have ever written and I genuinely had fun writing it. I'm so proud of this. Thank you to @kwanisms for making the banner as always

@anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @millennial-fangirl @kpop-stories-21 @twisted-tales-of-all @skyechild @staytinyville

Smut warnings: Switch!San, switch!reader, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, marking, protected sex, they just soft for each other.

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You step off of the bus, leaves crunching under you feet as you look around, noticing that the town looks pretty much the same as the day you left. Some of the buildings are more run down than they used to be, the roads are a little less maintained, but it’s nothing major.

You sigh and readjust the bag on your shoulder, tightening your grip on the suitcase beside you. Your thoughts drift, reminding yourself to call the moving company to confirm the arrival date of the rest of your things. Your thoughts shift to Joshua and you hear bits of your final conversation, before blinking away the tears starting to form and take your first step.

You had sold your car, knowing you wouldn’t need it in such a small place, your mother can no longer drive so you can use her car if needed. You look at your watch, not having a cell phone since not only was it on Joshua’s plan, but you didn’t want an easy way for him to contact you.

You start walking along the sidewalk, keeping your head down and lost in your thoughts. Your childhood home isn’t that far from the main square and you still know the way like the back of your hand.

A few people stop you and make small talk, surprised that you’re back in town and seeming to be staying for a while. You try to be polite, though avoidant when they ask questions, only telling them that your mother needed you here so you came. Your patience is being tested, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. God, you really don’t want to be here.

After finally getting away from the nosey town people, thinking that no one in this town has anything better to do than worry about other people’s business, you smile as you pass the local diner. You know you’ll be the talk of the town for a while, but the memories of all the time spent in that dingy diner drift through your mind.

Your first date, your first job (well sort of), your last hangout before leaving town. You remind yourself that you really need to stop by and talk to Lou as soon as possible. Out of everyone here, you’ve missed him the most and you know he’ll be happy to see you.

You make it to your mother’s neighborhood, looking around to see what, if anything has changed. Everything looks mostly the same, your mother’s house is in desperate need of paint and good lawn care, though. You notice the house to the right of her mother’s has changed.

There is a swing set in the yard, a small inflatable pool and a tricycle scattered throughout. You guess that the older lady that lived there must have moved. Of course she would have, it has been 12 years since you left. That lady may not even be alive anymore, that thought bringing a ping of hurt to your heart. She was always such a wonderful lady. You shake the sad thought away before stepping up to the front door and pulling your key out and unlocking the door.

You call out to your mother, letting her know that you made it. You hear your mother’s voice sounding out from the kitchen. You kick your shoes off beside the door and walk down the short hall, making a right into the kitchen to see your mother standing at the island in the center of the room, a smile on her face. You greet your mother with a hug and accepts the mug of coffee she hands you.

You look around as the two of you talk about your trip, noticing that there are many repairs that need to be made. Cabinets need to be painted and finished, the counters need to be fixed, and the wallpaper is peeling. You briefly wonder what else needs to be fixed.

You think you noticed the railing along the stairs was tilted. You sigh again, knowing that there’s no way you can leave these things the way they are. You know these things are bothering you, but in her current state you also know that she can’t fix them herself.

Your mother’s questioning about Joshua brings you out of your thoughts, and you force a small smile. “ He’s fine, mom.” You know that your mother can tell that there is something you aren’t saying, but decides not to push the issue right now.

After finishing your coffee, you excuse yourself, telling your mother that you are going to unpack your things and you make your way back down the hallway, making another right to go up the stairs.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, taking a look around the upstairs of the house. Your childhood bedroom is to the left of the stairs There is a door to the right before you get to your room, your mother’s old sewing room. You remember sitting on the bean bag chair on the floor of the room reading while your mother sewed.

The next door on the left is the bathroom, you think about how many days you spent hours in there, trying to make sure you looked your best for school. Your bedroom door is the last door on the right, the room across the hall is an old storage room that you’re sure has many of your childhood toys. Your mother has always been a sentimental hoarder.

Before entering your room, you turn and take a long back down the hallway. There aren’t as many rooms down the right side of the hall. Your parent’s room is the only door on the left, the master bedroom with their own bathroom and there’s a small alcove with a bay window on the right.

Your eyes pause on the door at the end of the hall, your father’s study. You stare at the door for a moment before turning back to face your door. With one more sigh, you open your door, throwing one last look at the door at the end of the hall, and head into your room, closing the door softly behind you.

You let your eyes drift around the room. The desk that you used for homework is set up against the back wall and you quickly take your laptop from your bag, setting it on the desk and plugging the charger into the wall.

You had found a job as a remote legal assistant, mostly fielding emails to the correct parties, getting video calls of meetings that you needed to type the minutes for. You were very thankful that your former boss had put you in contact with someone that had the position available. Without being able to stop them, your thoughts drift to your old life.

You had left your hometown not long after graduating, knowing that the small town life wasn’t for you. You had quickly found a job as a receptionist for a law firm, and you were damn good at your job. And you loved your job. You regret that you didn’t visit more, really only making the two hour drive back home for the holidays. You had still talked to your mother every day, but you knew that she would have loved to see you more.

After being with the firm for a year, a new partner was welcomed into the work family. Joshua had immediately caught your attention. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was soft spoken and polite. A true gentleman. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was just amazing.

For two years, your life had been everything you had wanted. Until the death of your father. His death hit you hard. You essentially shut down for a while, you can admit to that. You know that Joshua tried to bring you out of your grief, but you hadn’t let him in.

Though you could realize that those things happened, that didn’t excuse Joshua’s actions. It didn’t excuse you walking into Joshua’s office on day to find him fucking his assistant. No, there was no excuse for that. You had come to tell him that you would need to come back home for a while, your mother wasn’t doing well and you needed to get her settled. Now, your visit has become a permanent residence.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts and focus your attention back on your room.

Your bookcase sits left of the door, mostly empty. Your face falls into frown. You didn’t read much when you were a teen, too busy with parties and friends. You had picked up on the hobby after you had moved. The thought that the bookcase would be full once the rest of your things arrive lifted your spirits a bit.

Reading had become one of your most treasured hobbies. When you had a bad day, you could lose yourself in a fictional world. The thought that you didn’t know if you could take away the worries and doubts you have currently makes your heart sink a little bit, but you swallow the sadness down, determined not to let yourself breakdown again. You had done her crying the night she left and you promised yourself that that was the last time you would cry over Joshua.

You look around your room again, smiling at how it looks exactly like you left it. Your queen size bed still has the zebra print bedspread you had gotten when you were 16 and you cringe a little. “The first thing I’m buying is a new bedspread and sheets.” Your voice is a whisper despite being the only one in the room.

Your slight grimace fades into a smile when you see the handmade quilt your aunt had given you as a Christmas present folded and placed at the foot of your bed. You take a step forward and rub your fingers along the fabric, her eyes watering a little at the memory of your aunt giving it to her. You really need to call her and see how she’s doing. You huff a small laugh, remembering that even in this day and age, both your mother and aunt still have wall phones, thinking that they really are sisters.

After taking a shower and changing into a tank top and sweats, you make your way back downstairs to check on your mother and help her make dinner. You pop your head into the kitchen, clearing your throat to let your mother aware of your presence. “Need any help?” Your mom smiles and nods. “I would love some.”

The two of you make small talk as you bumble around the kitchen, cutting vegetables and preparing everything your need. You turn to face your mother, only to notice that she is winding, but trying to hide it. “Mom, sit down. I can handle the rest of this.” She opens her mouth to argue, but you throw a stern glare at her and she sighs and sits at the table, a slight pout on her face. What an adorable woman.

The food is ready in no time, and you make a plate for each of you.

“Wanna eat in the living room? Maybe we can watch The Thornbirds?” Your mother quickly agrees, glad to be spending time with you and watching something you both love.

You eat quietly, paying attention to the movie like you haven’t seen it a million times. When you’ve finished your food, you set your plate on the coffee table, fully intending to wash it once the movie is over. It hits you just how much you have missed spending time with your mom like this. You pull your feet onto the couch and throw a blanket over yourself as you lay your head in your mother’s lap, simply enjoying how much better it makes you feel.

“Y/N. Wake up, sweet girl,” your mother’s voice wakes you up.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you guess that the comfort of snuggle up to your mother must have lulled you into slumber. You stand slowly, stretching with a grunt. Your mom stands as well, much more slowly than you had.

“Mom, is it your feet?”

She nods and tells you that it’s fine, but you make sure to help her up. You wrap your arm around hers, helping her up the stairs. “I can do this on my own, you know?” Her voice has a bit of her trademark attitude and you have to bite back a laugh. “I’m sure you can, but you’re not.” That makes her fake angry front break and she giggles.

Once you make it to your mother’s door, you let go of her arm. “I’m glad to have you home. I love you,” she ends with a kiss to your forehead and you tell her that you love her too before turning to return to your bedroom. You hope that your bed is as comfortable as it used to be as you climb in, getting comfortable. Sleep comes quickly, though your dreams are filled with arguments and tears.

You wake up later than you had planned the next day, though you don’t feel guilty about it. Your new job doesn’t start until next month so you don't necessarily have to be up early.

You hear your mother moving around downstairs and you make a stop by the bathroom to potty and brush your teeth before heading downstairs. You can’t help but stop at the top of the stairs, your eyes stopping on the door at the end of the hall. The thought of walking into the study crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it, knowing that you aren’t ready for that.

You peek in each room looking for your mother, eventually finding her on the back porch, a cup of coffee in her hand as she sits on the porch swing. She flashes you a smile and wishes you a good morning. “Though it’s almost afternoon. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” she laughs at her own little joke.

“Morning Ma,” you greet her. “I’m so glad you made coffee. I’m not used to that bed anymore so I tossed and turned all night.” She hums in acknowledgement and you turn, moving forward to the kitchen to get your coffee.

While in the kitchen, your attention is brought back to the state of disarray of your mother’s home. You make the decision that today you'll go into the main square and get yourself a new bedspread and some basic necessities. Tomorrow you can go to the hardware store and look into what you’ll need to fix the kitchen up.

You make your coffee, and return to the porch and talk to your mother about your plans for the day, asking if her mother needs anything.

“All I can think of is that my medicine should be ready at the pharmacy. Do you mind picking it up for me?”

You agree and the conversation turns to what happened to the older lady that lived next door. “Oh. Her son had to put her in a home after she fell. I heard she passed after about a year.” Although this was what you expected, knowing that this is what happened still hurts.

“There have been a few people in and out of the house since then. Right now, there’s a young man around your age and his son. I don’t know much about him, but he seems like a nice boy.” Maybe more changed around here than you thought.

You take your time enjoying your coffee and chatting with your mom, getting a shower afterwards and getting ready to run your errands. The hot water feels amazing on your skin and once again you take your time. You’re used to being in a rush when you get ready and it’s nice to just be.

Looking through your clothes, you choose a pair of black skinny jeans and a band tee. You complete the outfit with your black combat boots, the ones that have little metal hearts on the side. A lot of things have changed since you left town, but you still sure hasn’t.

When you decide that you’re ready go, you stop by the back porch to tell you mother that you’re heading out and telling her that you’ll see her later.

The late fall air feels crisp and you take a deep breath, simply enjoying it. The fresh air is definitely something you’ve missed about being home. The city is great in many ways, but the air quality certainly isn’t one of them. It’s also nice to step outside and not hear sirens and horns everywhere immediately.

There’s something peaceful about being able to feel the breeze and just walking in silence.

As you step off the front porch, you find yourself walking to your mother’s car out of habit. You had already decided to walk, though you have second thoughts when you remember that you’ll be carrying a bed set home.

You stand firm in your decision to walk, thinking that the walk could be the replacement for a gym trip that you totally would have gone on in the city. (That’s a lie. You hate the gym, but it sounds better in your head.)

As the slight breeze hits your back, you think about grabbing a jacket. If your back gets cold, you’re fucked, but you take the risk instead of trudging back inside. Plus, you remind yourself, the weather here is finicky and it could suddenly warm up and you could be sweating.

As you walk to the square, you feel as if you’re repeating the day before. Multiple people stop you, they obviously haven’t heard the gossip from the people that stopped you yesterday. Or they just want to see if they can get something else out of you, which is entirely possible.

As you make it to the center of town, the sidewalk traffic slows down and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You notice that the hardware store has barely changed, only the name is new. You glance through the window, the inside still looks exactly the same. There’s a little boy grinning and talking to anyone he see. The boy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His little afro bouncing a little as he runs around.

Smiling softly at the image in front of you, you turn your head back to the sidewalk as you press on. Just past the hardware store is the pharmacy. It looks as if it hasn’t changed a bit and you are certain that an older version of the pharmacist sits inside behind the counter. You make a mental note, reminding yourself to stop and get your mom’s medication on your way back home. The thought of carrying medication around the home goods store makes you uncomfortable, so you feel resolute in your choice.

You lower your head as you pass the diner, not ready to be stopped yet. You still need to stop in and see Lou, but you think that you’ll do that tomorrow. The home goods store is a couple buildings down from the diner. It still baffles you that this town has such a large store, though it wouldn’t be considered large by most people’s standards, and you’re kind of shocked it has lasted as long as it has.

The bell dings as you open the door and you cringe slightly, hoping no one notices that it’s you who walked through the door. You walk down the main aisle, looking at the signs on the edges of side aisles trying to find the bedding aisle. Honestly, you don’t have high hopes about the selection they’ll have, but you guess anything is better than the zebra print monstrosity that is on your bed currently. You finally find the bedding aisle and you are pleasantly surprised to see both sides of the aisle are full of options. You look over the choices in front of you, realizing that you were correct. Most of the options are different brands of the same plain sets. When you resign yourself to having to get a plain white set, you find something that perfectly suits your taste. It’s black in color and has a large sun with smaller stars and moons floating around randomly on the rest of the comforter. You discretely jump in happiness when you see that they have one queen sized set left and you quickly snatch it up and make your way to the register, remembering half way there to grab some new body wash and basic necessities. Luckily, the store is fairly empty and you don’t recognize the young girl at the counter, so you feel relief at someone probably not knowing you. You’re very glad to know that your assumption was correct, the girl barely pays attention to you and you’re able to quickly pay and leave.

As you carry the bedding, you groan internally, annoyed at yourself for not stopping at the pharmacy before you went to the home goods store. The bedding is slipping from your hand and the angle is awkward. This is not one of your best decisions.

'Mistakes have been made. '

Readjusting you grip on the bedding, you pick up you pace, doing your best to make it to the pharmacy as quickly as possible. As you turn towards the door of the pharmacy, you let out a groan when you realize that you going to have a time getting this open with your hands full.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to put the bedding down to open the door, you’re surprised when a hand and a soft “Let me,” comes from your right. You turn your head and you have to hold in your gasp gasp.

An absolutely beautiful man is smiling a bright smile, briefly reminding you of the boy you saw earlier through the window of the hardware store. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead and you have the thought that you want to run your hands through it.

His shoulders are broad, but his waist is tiny. He’s gorgeous.

He pulls the door open, gesturing with left hand in an “after you” motion. You smile, slightly shyly which is very unlike you, and thank him. He holds the door open for you before he steps inside him self. “You’re welcome,” he replies. “Just couldn’t stand to see a pretty lady struggling,” he adds, giving you a smile and a nod, turning while you continue straight toward the counter.

A friendly older man smiles as he asks you what he can help you with. You were right when you guessed it was the same man that worked here before you left. People tend to stick to the same thing forever in small towns.

You give him your mother’s name and tell him that you are her daughter and are here to pick up her medication. He gives you a nod and steps away to locate the medication. You quickly set the bedding down, giving your arm a stretch so it doesn’t get stiff.

The pharmacist comes back with the medication for your mother and gives you the total of the purchase. You pays pausing to ask him a few questions about the medication before you grab your things and head toward the door. You notice the man from earlier standing in front of the vitamins, looking a little confused.

You step forward, voice not too loud to scare the man. “You need any help there?” He startles a little and you chuckle a little and apologize, telling him that he just looked like he was confused. He laughs shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-uh, came to get my son’s vitamins, but they’re out of the ones I usually buy. I’m trying to find a suitable substitute.”

You give him a firm nod turning to look at the options. You asks him what kind he normally gets and he tells you the brand. You scan the shelf, unaware of the eyes on the side of your face, before making a small “aha” and setting your bedding down again and reaching out to grab a bottle.

“These are just as beneficial as the ones you normally get, but they’re cheaper. Plus, they’re gummies so he’ll probably like them more,” you explain as you hand him the bottle. He smiles widely at you and you can feel your breath catching again as he thanks you.

“No need for thanks. Just returning the favor.” He gives you another big smile and follows you to the door, opening it again so you can step outside. You thank him and tell him to have a good day as he turns back around to pay.

The rest of your trip home is without incident, much to your relief. You walk through your mother’s door and call out. “Mom! I’m back!” You take your things upstairs to drop your things off in your room. You go back downstairs to find your mother. She asks about you day and you decide to bring up her medication as you hand it to her.

“Momma, why didn’t you tell me things were so bad. Mr. Jones told me a bit about these medications. Antidepressants, medicine for chronic sinus issues and face pain, and pain medication for your feet.” You watch her face as she processes what you’ve said, not pushing her to answer you immediately. You want her to be able to take her time.

After a moment or two, she speaks. “I’ve been handling things the best I could. You had your own life and I didn’t want to worry you more than necessary.” Your eyes begin to water and you hug her, apologizing for not being around more.

“Oh dear, I’m not upset with you for growing up and going on your own path. But I sure am glad to have you home.” The two of you stand in each others arms for a bit longer.

You think it’s finally time to break the news to her mother that you and Joshua are no longer together and the reasoning behind your breakup.” Mom, Josh and I aren’t together anymore. I found him with another woman a week or so before I came back.”

She tilts her head and pulls you back into her arms, asking if you’re ok. You softly tell her mother that you’re ok, still hurt, but ok. You mother suggests that the two of you cook together and watch another movie and you smile and agree.

After eating and watching the movie, you had decided to watch Ma and Pa Kettle, an old favorite of yours, you help your mother to bed and change your bedding. You take a look at what feels like a brand new bed, beyond pleased to have the god awful zebra atrocity gone from sight.

You check your email before bed, noticing an email from Joshua. You delete it without even reading it, not even thinking twice about it. You order yourself a new phone, already tired of not having one and climb into bed.

You wake up earlier than you did the day before and go through the routine of brushing your teeth, showering, and having breakfast and coffee with you mom. You definitely picked up your coffee addiction from her.

“Just a reminder that I’m going to the hardware store today. Gotta get started on fixing this kitchen.” She nods telling you to take the car today, and you agree with a laugh, telling her that you had already planned on it. “Are you dead set on these white cabinets?” Your mom smiles softly.

“The kitchen is your project, my baby. You do whatever you want with it. The house will be yours eventually, might as well have it the way you like it.” You smile despite the painful thought that one day your mother won’t be here. “Besides, you did always talk about designing the perfect kitchen.”

You give her a wide smile, glad she remembers how much you always talked about designing the kitchen in your future home. You tells her that you will see her later as you grab the keys to the car and steps outside.

You hear laughter from the lawn of the house next door and turn to see a little boy running to the car in the driveway, and a man hunched down chasing him, wiggling his fingers like he’s going to tickle the boy. The sight warms your heart and you briefly think that they look familiar. You smile to yourself and makes your way to the car.

You park the car in the small lot in front of the hardware store, sitting for a moment before getting out and stepping to the door of the building. Pulling on the handle, you find that the door won’t open. You check the hours on the front of the glass, it says that the store should be open by now. You heave a sigh, something that has become quite common lately, and turn to head back to the car.

“Are you trying to get into the hardware store?” A voice comes from behind you. You turn to find the man from the pharmacy the day before, a set of keys in one hand and the hand of a small boy in the other. You give him a smile and nod, waving at the boy. You bend down a little.

“Well, hello there.” The boy smiles and waves back. “I’m so sorry. Normally, I’d have opened up by now, but a certain little boy didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” As he finishes his sentence, his eyes flicker down to the boy, who is still wearing his bright smile.

You laugh and tells him that you understand and there are still some days where you don’t want to get out of bed. The man laughs his beautiful laugh again and opens the door, making the same motion with his hand as he did the day before.

Once you get into the store, the man snaps and makes an oh sound. You jump a little and look at him with a confused look. “This is the second time we’ve met and I still haven’t introduced myself. I’m San and this is my store.” He’s wearing a small smirk as he speaks.

You give him your name back, trying not to let your tummy flutter when he says that it is a pretty name. You squat down to the boy, making sure you’re face to face. “And what is your name, cutie?”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m Mason Choi and I’m four.” He holds up four fingers as he speaks. “My address is--”

“Ok, buddy, you don’t have to tell her all of that,” San interrupts with a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. You stand back up to full height, asking San where you can find the paint, and he points you in the right direction before you both go your separate ways.

You browse the paint aisle, taking your time looking through the colors. You aren’t sure you’ll be able to pick one for certain, but you know she’ll be taking home some swatches. You spend a few minutes thinking about the overall theme you want for the kitchen, trying to think about what would go best with what you have in mind. you gets a memory of what she wanted to do as a child, softly smiling at where your thoughts have drifted.

“You must really like that color.”

A voice comes from you left, a laugh following. You turn to find San there, giving you a smirk. You laugh softly and tell him that you were just thinking about a childhood memory. “When I was little, I wanted to design my mom’s kitchen. When she asked me what I wanted to do with it, I had a solid plan. Bubblegum colored walls, with white paint dripping down and splats of bright colors randomly placed around. I wanted the walls to look like ice cream.”

He gives a big laugh and you feel your insides churn again, internally cursing yourself. “What even brought that to mind?”

You tell him that you’re here to pick out paint, but you needed to think of a theme first.. He nods his head as if telling her to continue. You tell him that you current pet project is to redo the kitchen and that it’s in desperate need of a remodel.

“Do you plan to paint first?” His question isn’t judging, merely asking as if he’s trying to help. You think for a moment before shaking your head. “I should probably replace the cabinets and counters first, a slight blush coming to the surface of your cheeks.

You should have thought of that. And why are you blushing? You don’t blush. What is going on?

“In that case, you’re probably going to want to look into what kind of style you want the cabinets you want. There’s many different styles. Same goes for the counters. So many different patterns for counter tops.”

He pauses for a moment, allowing you nod to let him know that you are paying attention. Honestly, you don’t think you could pull your attention away from him.

“Now, I don’t have pre built cabinets here, but I’m sure I could track down a catalog somewhere that you can look through.” You give him a shake of your head, telling him that he doesn’t have to go through that much trouble, you could just do a search online. He gives you a sideways smile, telling you that he’s going to do it anyway. The smile is so fucking adorable that it has you smiling with him.

“So, are you going to be doing this yourself or is your dad or boyfriend helping?” The mention of both your dad and a boyfriend makes your smile fall and your body stiffen a little.

“No, it’ll just be me.” He gives you a shallow nod, his smile falling slightly too. He quickly recovers, though, keeping his cheerful mood. “If you need any help, please just ask. I don’t mind helping at all.” You smile and tell him that you will definitely keep that in mind.

Mason runs up to San, telling him that someone has come into the store asking for him. San bends down and thanks his son with a kiss on the cheek and stands to take his hand. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.” You tell that you will and he gives you a wink as he heads to the front of the store.

You look at paint swatches for a while longer, lost in thought. Your stomach eventually begins to rumble and you make the decision to finally brave the diner. You make you way back to the door, throwing San and Mason a smile and a wave before leaving.

You walk to the diner, stopping to take a deep breath before making you way in front of the windows and to the door.

Pulling the door open, you’re hit with the smell of greasy burgers and fries and you sigh, suddenly overcome with a homey feeling. The diner holds many memories, both good and bad, and you figure it’s time to face them head on.

You slide into the booth in the back, it was always your favorite. You glances down, seeing the menu on the table, knowing that you don’t even have to look at it to know what you want.

A middle aged woman comes up to you and asks if you’re ready and you nod. You go with your favorite, a bacon cheese burger with extra pickles and a tea. Lou makes the best burgers. Before the waitress can leave, you ask her to tell Lou that it’s Y/N. The lady gives you a confused look before nodding and walking off to the kitchen.

You can hear the waitress yell Lou’s name before her voice lowers. You smirk slightly, counting down in you head. Only a second later, a tall man with a big belly comes barreling out of the kitchen area, throwing his apron on the counter.

You stand up from the booth, waiting beside it as the man makes his way to you. Lou greets you with a hug, telling you that he’s missed his best waitress. You laugh at his antics.

“Lou, I never actually worked for you.”

He brushes you off with a wave of his hand and asks how you’ve been. You tell him that you’ve been better, but you’ve also been worse. He gives you a sigh and a nod.

“You’ve always been so quiet about how you actually feel. Come on and tell Big Lou what’s going on.” You sit down, motioning for him to sit across from you. He holds his finger up in a hold on signal and walks back to the kitchen. You smile as he walks away, thinking back on your time knowing the gentle giant.

Lou has owned the diner for as long as you can remember, though you knows that it can’t be as long as it feels since the man is in his late 40s. He’s a man that looks gruff and unfriendly, but once you really get to know him, he’s a great person to have in your life.

Lou has always been your group of friends’ confidant in a sense, always listening, never talking unless asked. With you in particular, he always dragged what was wrong out of you. When you first boyfriend broke up with you, you went to the diner, obviously upset but refusing to talk about it. Lou told you that if you were going to sit and mope, could you at least take an order to a customer since he was short staffed.

You remember that you had looked at him like he was a crazy man and he just gave you a toothy grin. That had made you smile as well and you grabbed the plate and took it to the customer. That had started the tradition of you coming to the diner when you were sad and Lou giving you things to do to take your mind off of it. He always paid you out of the money out of the register, even though you told him that he didn’t have to. You always ended up telling him what was wrong and he always gave the best advice. It was an unusual friendship, but one you greatly treasured.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Lou sliding into the booth, your burger on a plate in one hand and a plate full of cheese fries in the other. “Lou, I didn’t order cheese fries,” your voice is teasing. He just tells you to hush and eat you food. You laugh a big laugh and start to dig in.

“Alright Peanut, spill the beans.”

You take a breath and repeat the story of your relationship with Joshua. You vent about your mother’s health and how you’re worried about her. You talk about the kitchen remodel. For the first time since your father’s death, you talk about it and how you handled it when it happened and how you’re handling it now. You mention your thoughts of going into his study, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

By the time you’ve finished spilling your guts to Lou, you’ve finished your burger and are starting to work on the fries. You flick your eyes up to Lou’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the spew of information you’ve given him. His eyebrows are furrowed, obviously deep in thought. You stare at him for a moment, waiting patiently. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He looks at you with a serious expression before opening his mouth.

“So, you looking for a job?”

The question makes you burst out laughing, the first whole hearted laugh you’ve had since finding out Joshua was cheating on you, probably since you lost your father. You laugh until your stomach hurts and you have tears gathering in her eyes. Lou reaches across the table to pat you on the hand.

“You’re a strong woman and you’re gonna get through all of this and come out stronger on the other side. Now, what is this boy’s name and where does he live. It’s for science.”

You give his hand a slight slap and tell him to get back to work. He stands and gives you another hug and you move to go pay for you food. Lou moves in front of the register, shaking his head and pointing to the door. You giggle and shake your head, knowing this is a fight you won’t win and leave. As you reach the door, you hear Lou call your name. You turn back to face him, an eyebrow raised.

“Go into the room, Peanut.”

Deciding to head back home, it’s been hours since you left that morning and it’s well after lunch time, you make you way back to the hardware store to grab your mother’s car, noticing San’s car is gone.

You wonder if he is only open a few hours a day, but quickly dismiss the thought, deciding that it’s none of your business and continue on your way back home.

Turning into the driveway, you hear laughing from next door again, thinking that you’re glad your new neighbors are so cheerful. You hear a small voice calling your name and you turn to see Mason smiling wide and frantically waving.

You says his name with as much enthusiasm as he had said yours and start waving just as frantically. San stands in the background smiling at the two of you just standing in the middle of your yards just waving like crazy people. He steps forward with a “howdy neighbor” and you laugh and say hello.

San gives you a wink, saying that it looks like you’ll will be seeing each other a lot and you laugh and agree. Mason cuts in and asks if he and San can go have their lunch now, and San agrees, picking him up and saying goodbye to you before heading inside. You watch as they walk through their door, thinking that this man and his flirtatious nature are going to be problem.

Not entirely an unwelcome problem, but a problem regardless.

You step through you own door, calling out to your mother. You hear her voice coming from the back porch and you slip your shoes off and walk toward the back of the house. Your mother asks how your day has been, and you tell her about your time at the hardware store and lunch with Lou. She gives you a smile, telling you that she’s glad that you met with Lou, and saying that he always asks about you.

“I met the new neighbor, he also owns the hardware store.”

Your mother huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I know, dear. It is a small town after all.” You roll her eyes with a laugh. You mention San telling you that he would see if he could find a catalog with cabinets for you to look at, and your mother hums and nods, asking if you have figured out what you want to do with the kitchen. You shake your head. “San brought that up too, but I need to think about it for a bit. I’m gonna go look at the kitchen and see if something comes to me.”

You walk into the kitchen, glancing around while in thought. You do your best to envision what you want the kitchen to look like. After standing around just looking at the cabinets, it hits you. You look around, picturing what you want. You wanted dark gray cabinets with silver handles.

As you look around, the thought of making a little nook comes to your mind. Cabinets and drawers on the bottom, a counter, the area is boxed in, like a little alcove. On the very top, you envision putting potted plants. Your vision is sort of a forest-y vibe.

Smiling to yourself, you turn around and makes you way back to your mother. Before you leave the room, you make yourself a cup of coffee.

When you get back to your mother, you tell her about your idea for the kitchen and she gives you a smile and tells you that she loves it. You notice your mother getting tired and you offer her your arm and tell her she should take a nap.

She immediately disagrees, but you insist and tell her that you will make dinner and wake her up when it’s ready. Huffing, your mother relents and grabs your arm and pulls herself up. You helps her to her room and tell her to have a good nap and leave her room.

You stand outside of the door, looking at the door to your father’s study. Lou’s words float through your mind and you take a hesitant step forward. You step until you have your hand on the knob, but you quickly let go and turn around and head to your room to grab your laptop before going back downstairs.

Feeling like it’s a bit early to start on dinner, also knowing that your mother needs a nice nap, you grab yourself another cup of coffee, deciding to sit on the front porch this time. You tell yourself that it definitely isn’t with the hopes of seeing San, you just want a change.

You grab one of the wicker bucket chairs on the front porch, sitting in it with your laptop on your lap and your coffee on the small table to your left.

Opening your email, you find two more emails from Joshua. Taking a deep breath, you open the first one. You know that this is the first step in healing and moving on. The email is exactly what you expected it to be. Josh says he’s sorry and that he does love you and he wishes you would email him back.

You close out of the email, still feeling hurt, but not as bad as you had expected. Before you can open the second email, a voice calls out to you making you look up to see San.

“You’re drinking coffee this late in the afternoon?” he asks. You let a little giggle follow. “It’s never too late for coffee.” You have a teasing glint in your eye as you respond. “I think that I have to respectfully disagree.”

The two of you talk for a while, before you remember your vision for the kitchen. You tell San that you have an idea and he tilts his head and motions for you to continue.

You tell him about how you wants everything to look and he nods as you talks. After you finish, he tells you that it sounds like a really neat idea and he will look around for that catalog. You thank him and ask where Mason is. He tells you that he’s down for a nap.

“I know it’s a bit late for a nap, but I never let him sleep too long or he’ll be up all night.” You laugh and tell that him you couldn’t even imagine what it’s like to deal with a toddler that’s wide awake at three am and San laughs with you. You bite you lip and ask if his mother is watching him while he’s down. San stiffens a little, shakes his head. “No. It’s just me and Mason.” You remember you mother mentioning that he was a single father so you aren’t sure why you even asked.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. That was none of my business.” San assures you that it’s fine and that he and Mason are doing well on their own.

“It looks like it. From what little I’ve seen, you seem like a great dad.” He blushes a little and thanks you. You giggle at his sudden shyness and tell him that it’s not a problem. He checks the time on his phone.

“I better wake the little guy up.” You nod and he gives you a smile and turns to head back to his yard. You stop his movement with a call of his name and he turns to face you.

“Would you two want to join my mom and I for dinner? Think of it as a belated welcome to the neighborhood celebration.” San gives you a large smile. “I’ll ask Mason, though I’m positive he will agree. It would seem that he has already taken a liking to you.”

You giggle and tell him that you’ve taken a liking to Mason too. “If you guys decided to come, just knock on the door. It should be ready in a couple of hours.” He nods back at you and you end the conversation by telling him that you’ll make sure there’s more than coffee to drink and you open the door and step inside, San’s beautiful laughter ringing out behind you. You gently wake your mother, telling her that you have invited San and his son for dinner.

By the time dinner is ready and you take a shower, there’s a knock at the door. Since you’re already right by the door, you open it to find San and Mason smiling at you. Your eyes wander over San. 'Damn he looks good.' He's dressed casually in some jeans and a black tee while Mason is wearing sweatpants and a dinosaur shirt.

You squat down to the child's level. “Wow,” you say looking at the dinosaur on his shirt. “I love your shirt!” Mason smiles up at his dad before looking back at you. “What's your favoritest dinosaur?” you ask.

“Raptor!” he enthusiastically answers, even going as far to try to make a raptor noise. You give him a laugh. “Well, my favorite dinosaur is a Spinosaurus, but I don’t even know what they sound like!” you said, sounding impressed. “You sound like you know more about dinosaurs that I do.” Mason nods.

“I’m a dinosaur expert!”

His enthusiasm warms your heart and you stand, inviting them to come inside.

You show them the way to the kitchen. “Ma, this is San,” you say, formally introducing them. San smiles, stepping forward to shake her hand. “It's nice to officially meet you,” he says as Mason steps forward to proudly introduce himself before you could.

“And I'm Mason!”

Your mother smiles at him. “That's a lovely name, Mason. It's nice to meet you.” Mason thanks her with a smile which she returns before offering San two plates and asks him what they would like to drink.

“Just water is fine.” He makes Mason’s plate and gets him set up at the table before making his own. “Mom go ahead and sit down,” you say as you make her plate and place it front of her before you make your own.

You take the seat next to your mother, San is sitting to your other side. You all chat idly, talking about nothing in particular. San brings up the kitchen remodels and you perk up and start pointing and showing San where you wants the little alcove to go, not noticing your mother watching on fondly.

San listens before offering once again to help you, telling you that he can even draw up your idea for you to see before you starts on it. You give him a nod as your mother asks if he’s an artist and he laughs while shaking his head.

“No ma’am. Before having Mason I was in school studying to be an architect.” Your mother tells him that that is a good field. “If Y/N won’t accept your offer to help, I certainly will. If I left everything to her, this kitchen would be torn apart for months.”

Your cheeks burn, again with the blushing, telling you mother to hush with a slight slap to her shoulder. You all finish dinner, San offering to help clean up but you tell him absolutely not and that he should get Mason home since he’s falling asleep on your mother’s shoulder.

“You have a good point there,” he says while looking fondly at his son.

“I'll walk you out,” you announce before walking them to the door, San holding Mason. “Have a good night,” you say softly as San crossed the threshold. "You, too,” he says just as quietly.

“And thank you for dinner.”

“I'll have that drawing for your kitchen done soon,” he adds with a smile. You thank him and watch as they walk next door.

A few days later, you wake to your mother knocking on you door. You tell her to come in, rolling on to your side to face the door. Your mother smiles before coming to sit on the edge of your bed, running a hand through your hair. You hum in content, asking her mother what’s up.

“The rest of your things are here. The van is waiting outside. You also got a package this morning. I sat it on the table by the couch,” she says fondly as she smiles down at you.

She leaves and you quickly get dressed and brush your teeth, not wanting to keep the moving van waiting any longer. You step out of the door, greeting the man waiting by the van. He greets you back, opening the back of the van revealing a few boxes. You thank him and you start to help him unload the van.

“You need any help?”

You turn to see San standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leans on Mason’s swing set. “Yes please!”

Once all of the boxes are out of the van, you pay the driver his tip and the man leaves. San lifts a box and asks you where to take it. You momentarily get lost in admiring the way his arms flex as he grips the box before shaking you head and giving him directions to your bedroom. You take a box and follow him.

“You can just set it on the floor at the end of the bed,” you instruct and he does as you ask before you both move to get more boxes.

Once all of the boxes have been put in you room, you offer him some water and he accepts. As you makes her way to the kitchen, he tells you that he will be right back. You watch as he walks out the front door, not being able to stop yourself for look at his ass as he walks away and continue into the kitchen to get his glass of water ready.

San returns soon with a baby monitor and a piece of paper in his hands. “Mason is asleep and I should still be in range to hear him if he wakes up.” He lifts the monitor as he speaks. He hands you the piece of paper and you take it, looking a little confused.

Looking at it, it’s the design of the kitchen. You're happy that it looks exactly like what you pictured. You smile at him. “San it’s perfect! You’re really talented!” The tips of his ears turn slightly red, causing you to giggle softly.

You suddenly remember the package you mother told you about and perk up, telling San that you’ll be right back as you go to get it. You bring it back into the kitchen, setting it on the table and telling San he can sit if he wants. He joins you at the table, making sure to set his glass on a coaster.

You grab a knife and open the package carefully. Once you gets it open, you pull out her new phone. You sigh in relief, going as far as to kiss the box. San laughs from across from you.

“I haven’t had a phone for a while and I’m so glad to have one again.” He asks if you broke your or something, and you go quiet for a moment. “No, I didn’t break it. I left it with my ex boyfriend when I left him.”

“I'm so sorry,” San immediately apologizes. “I didn't mean to pry.”

You brush his apology off, telling him that it’s ok and that it’s been a little rough, but you’ll be ok.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” he asks and you nod.

“Joshua and I were together for two years when my dad died. I didn’t handle his death well and closed myself off,” you start to explain, San listening patiently. “And then when my mother’s health got worse, I went to his office to tell him that I would be coming back home for a little while to help get her situated,” you continue, hesitating as you reach the catalyst for your leaving.

“I found him and his assistant... together,” you continue, not noticing the way San's expression shifted. “Apparently, Josh couldn’t handle me being so down and unavailable so he found someone who was,” the last part comes out a little bitterly but you are beyond caring.

You had been fiddling with your phone the entire time you talk, trying to get it up and running. After you finish talking, you look up to see San’s jaw clenched and a serious look on his face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that shit. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that.” You tell him that it’s ok and thank him, ending in a small cheer when you get your phone ready to go.

You sit in silence for a moment before you look up at San.

“Could I ask you something?” San looks up at you and nods.

“Where's Mason’s mom?”

You notice how San stiffens a little but he relaxes. “So, I moved from Korea to study abroad. I told you already, but I was majoring in architecture and I was very excited to start my new life here,” he starts to explain.

“I met Anora in one of my classes and we really hit it off and started dating. After a year and a half, we found out she was pregnant.” You could hear it in his voice, the way he spoke about his son with such adoration.

“I was thrilled, but Anora was far from happy. Even though she really didn’t want to have Mason, but she stayed.” You can hear the sadness in his voice. “She decided after four years that being a mother wasn’t the life she wanted and she left right before his fourth birthday, almost a year ago.”

You felt your heart break for them. San sighs and continues. “I just felt like we needed a new start so I bought the store and the house and here we are,” he finishes his story to your stunned silence.

You stay silent for a moment before apologizing. “So, how is Mason handling all of this?” Your voice is soft and a little hesitant. San makes a face before answering. “He’s handling it well. Even when Anora was around, it was still pretty much the two of us. I stayed with her, hoping I could get her to fully accept Mason, but that was useless.”

You apologize again and San tells you that it’s ok. “Honestly, I feel like we're better off.” You nod in agreement. “I think can agree with that. I said it before, but you’re doing an amazing job at being a dad. Mason is a very lucky kid.” San smiles, looking down at his hands resting on the table. “Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciates that.”

“You're welcome,” you reply and without thinking, you reach across the table to give his hand a squeeze. There’s a beat of silence before you take your hand back and San clears his throat and nods his head toward your phone.

“So, do I get to be the first person to get your new number?” You laugh and nod, taking his phone to type your number into his phone. After you exchange numbers, San pockets his device and looks up.

“I should probably get back to Mason, even though I haven’t heard a peep from the baby monitor.” You walk him to the door, thanking him for helping with the boxes.

“Really,” he starts. “It's no trouble. We're neighbors after all. And isn't that are neighbors for?” he adds with a wink.

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Over the next month or so, San helps you get what's needed for the remodel, at a discount even though yourefused, and on weekends thetwo of get to work in the kitchen while Mason plays around with your mother. Mason's presence in your lives seems to brighten her mother's days and you have become very fond of the boy yourself.

San is a complicated story. You’re also very fond of him, perhaps too fond you think sometimes, and he seems to be equally fond of you. When you aren't talking in person, you’re texting. You’ve spent every weekend for a month working on the kitchen, often times working close together.

San teaches you the basics, even though you already know them but he doesn't need to know that. He's even taught you about how to get the grooves you want in the wood on the side of the arch way of the alcove. The fact that he stood behind you, chest to you back, to show you flustered you a bit. (But we don’t really need to talk about that. Nope. No need to talk about how you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back. Not at all.)

By the time the kitchen is finished, it's the middle December with Christmas just around the corner. You stand in the entrance of the kitchen with San, looking around at the space the two of you have created. You’re absolutely in love with it.

“San I love it. Thank you so much!” You wrap your arms around his neck in a hug, surprising him. He just stands there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you in return, giving you a squeeze. He slightly buries his face in your neck. “There’s no need to thank me. I really enjoyed doing this with you.” His breath on you neck makes a shiver run down your spine, but you try your best not to let it show.

You separate, slowly, and look at each other for a moment before a squeal interrupts your moment. Mason comes running into the kitchen, crashing into you and hugging your legs. You laugh as you stumble a bit and bend down to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

You don’t see the way San's eyes shine as he watches you with his son, happy you’ve clicked so well. Mason directs his attention to San “Daddy did you ask her yet?” . San shakes his head, a slight blush on his cheeks as you quirks an eyebrow up. “So the Christmas festival is next Saturday. Would you like to come with us?” You eagerly nod your head, gaining a smile from San and a giddy squeal from his son.

Your week is filled with emails for work. Joshua still sends you emails, but you rarely open them, more often than not, completely ignoring their existence. Not because you’re still hurt, you’ve moved on, but because you genuinely do not care to know what he has to say.

Though, a particular subject line draws your attention.

An email sent the day before. “See you soon” and you quickly click the email, reading it in a slight panic. Joshua goes on about he misses you and he just wants you to talk to him and that he’ll be coming to see you that upcoming weekend, the same weekend as a date you'd set up with San.

Your first thought is to go to the diner to talk to Lou.

You quickly put your shoes on, opting to drive to get there faster. You pull in to the diner parking, rushing to get inside.

“Lou!” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be, but you don’t pay any mind to it. You notice how they diners enjoying their food look at you, but at this moment you really don’t care. Lou comes out of the kitchen, looking a little annoyed at someone yelling in the diner. His face changes as soon as he sees you and the panicked look on your face. He quickly discards his apron, yelling into the kitchen that he'll be back soon and ushers you to your booth in the back.

He asks you what's wrong, trying to keep the worry in his voice unnoticeable. “I got an email from Joshua,” you rush to explain. “It said that he was coming here this weekend. Before you even ask, I’m not worried I’m going to go back to him. I’m over that part of my life and I have moved on from him, it's just...” You pause and Lou takes the opportunity to finish for you.

“You really like San and don’t want Joshua to ruin anything before it can really start.” You nod, knowing that coming to Lou was the right choice. “I’m going to the festival with San and Mason on Saturday.” You know that you’re wearing a massive smile, but you have no embarrassment about it. Lou smiles back and you.

“Have you told him about Joshua yet?” His question throw you off a little, even though you should have known he’d ask. “I’ve told him that Joshua is my ex and how things ended between.” Lou nods for a moment.

“And the email?”

You shake your head. “I saw the email and came straight to you.” He smiles widely and you can tell that your confession has made him happy. “Peanut, you’re a smart woman. You know what you need to do.” You nod, knowing that he’s right. He usually is, it’s why you come to him. You thank him with a hug and leave, deciding to walk to the hardware store to talk to San.

The bell dings as you walk in, and Mason yells your name and runs up to you. You smile down at him, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek before asking where his dad is. He wraps one arm around your neck and points with the other, telling you that San is on the paint aisle.

You thank him with another kiss on the cheek as you set him down. You make your way to San, feeling a little nervous as you watch him look through paint swatches. “San.” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but you aren’t sure you succeed.

He turns to face you, his face breaking out in a wide smile. “I was looking at swatches, trying to decide what color would go best with the kitchen.” You can feel yourself smile, despite the anxiety flowing through your body.

“We need to talk,” you start, internally cursing yourself as you see a flash of panic cross San's face. “It's not like that!” you continue quickly. “But it is important.” San nods, searching your face, no doubt noticing how serious you look. “Okay,” he nods slowly as he leads you to his office while he calls out to Mason to tell him to go into the break room and play so he knows where he is.

“You can sit there if you want.” He points to the chair in front of his desk as he moves behind the desk, grabbing the chair there and bringing it to sit beside you, facing you. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breathe before speaking, trying to calm your nerves. “I was looking at my email today and when I noticed an email from Joshua.” You can see his jaw tense, but he says nothing, letting you continue. “He’s coming here this weekend.” Your voice drops in volume, almost sounding small.

San is quiet for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, matching the feel of your small voice. “Do you still love him? Are you planning to leave and go back with him?”

You feel sad that the thought even crosses his mind. You obviously haven’t been as clear showing your feelings as you thought you were. “No. I really like you, San and I don’t plan to leave. There was a time in my life when I wanted to escape this town, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You can see him visibly relax as he breathes put a sigh of relief and telling you that he feels the same and that you can deal with Joshua’s visit together if you wants or he can let you handle it. You don’t say anything, only thanking him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you should head back home.

The closer it gets to Christmas, the stronger the urge to go into your father’s study gets. You talk to San about it as you text and he tells you that it's ok to still need time, but it's also ok to want to go into your father’s favorite place. He once again offers his help, telling you can be there for moral support if you needs and though you don’t tell him, you think that San is a great man and thank him.

Saturday comes quick and even though you’re anxious about Joshua’s arrival, you’re also excited about spending the evening with San and Mason. By dusk, Joshua still hasn't arrived and you hope that maybe he has changed his mind. You gets ready for the festival, deciding to wear jeans and a sweater.

A knock on the door has you almost sprinting down the stairs your thoughts swirling. You feel like a teenager waiting for her prom date. Opening the door to find San and Mason both giving you big smiles, you smile back and give them both hugs, unintentionally hugging San a little harder. “You ready?” San’s voice is light and cheerful and it makes your heart flutter. You give a nod and call out to your mother, letting her know that you’re leaving.

The festival is simple, a few decorations and booths with games and food trucks. Of course Lou has a stand with all of his best dishes and hot cocoa and coffee. The three of you stop by and you give Lou a hug, thanking him again in a whisper. He squeezes you in return, his way of telling you that you don’t need to thank him.

You grab a cup of coffee as San grabs both him and Mason a cup of cocoa each. As you reach into your wallet, preparing to pay, you notice San moving quickly to hand Lou money. Lou scoffs and tells him that there’s no way he’s letting them pay. You both try to argue, but Lou shuts you both down with his trademark eyebrow raise.

After getting your drinks, you walk around the festival a bit, stopping to play games when Mason finds one he wants to try out. By try out, he means that San has to play and try to win the toy Mason wants.

You hear your phone going off and you’re quick to grab it in case your mother needs you. You do find a text from you mom.

Mama: Honey, Joshua just came by looking for you. I didn't tell him where you were but just be on the lookout for him

Your breath catches, drawing San’s attention and you show him the message instead of speaking, not wanting to clue Mason in that there is a problem. All San does is grab your hand and gives it a tight squeeze before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a kiss on the top of your head.

You walk around a bit more, stopping to get Mason a corn dog when you hear your name being called. You stiffen. You knew that voice and would recognize it anywhere.

You're brought back to reality by San giving your shoulder a squeeze, silently letting you know that he’s there if you need him. The two of you turn around while Mason is preoccupied with his food and find Joshua standing and glaring at San.

San looks unfazed, other than the tightness in his jaw. Joshua steps forward, eye San before turning to look at you.

"Y/N, can we talk?” You notice how his eyes flicker over to San once more. "In private?” he adds.

You lean further into San's side, taking a deep breath and filling your nostrils with the scent of San’s cologne, which calms you a little.

“Whatever it is, you can say it say right here.”

Joshua narrows his eyes, heaving out a sigh before speaking.

“Fine,” he says softly. “You left me no choice. Since you refuse to answer my messages, I came here to see you.” You say nothing, letting him get it all out.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ll say it a million times if that’s what you want. I miss you so much. You’re all I can think about. Please let me make it up to you. I know I can do it if you’ll just let me.”

You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything. “No.” He looks taken aback and you take the opportunity to continue. “I don’t love you. I don’t hate you either. I don’t really feel anything for you. I’m happy where I am. I’m happy having San by my side.” San acknowledges you statement with a long kiss to you temple.

Joshua goes to take a step forward, only to be cut off by Lou. “I think the lady has said what she needs to say. It’s time for you to leave.” Joshua looks at you one more time, searching your face for any change of your mind before he begrudgingly leaves.

After the confrontation with Joshua, San decides that it's time for you to leave and he gathers Mason, who throws a tiny tantrum before listening to his father and taking his hand. You walk in silence for a moment, hands intertwined until San breaks the silence. “You ok?” You smile and squeezes his hand, looking into his eyes. “I’m great.”

When you get back to your house, you’ve accepted it as your home now and you’re proud to call it that, you ask San if he can help you with one more thing and he immediately agrees. You all enter the house, Mason immediately calling out to your mother.

“Nana! Where are you?” Both you and San freeze, eyes wide. This is the first time Mason has called your mother that. Your mother steps out of the kitchen, equally surprised, but she quickly schools her expression and opens her arms catching Mason in her arms as he jumps to her. You look at San, tying to gauge his reaction, only to find a soft smile on his face and he watches your mother with his son. You squeeze his hand and tilt you head toward the staircase and he follows you up the stairs.

You walk to the end of the hall, standing in front of the door of you father’s study. San kisses your temple before speaking. “Take your time, love. There’s no rush.” With one last deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door and you step inside while San waits in the opening of the door.

The room looks the same as it always has. Books are tucked neatly on the bookcase, your father’s large desk in the center of the room. You walks over to the desk, running your fingers over the top of the desk slowly.

There’s a thin layer of dust and it’s the first time you have every seen dust on the desk. Your father always kept his study perfectly clean. You look around at all of the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of your parents on their wedding day. A picture of your dad with his parents.

You notice a single frame on the desk and you carefully pick it up. It's a picture from the day you were born, your father holding you with a bright smile and tears in his eyes. Your own eyes start to teat up and you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, San moving to prop his chin on her shoulder.

“It’s ok to cry if that’s what you need to do. I’m so proud of you for coming in here. That took a lot of strength. My strong girl.” Your stomach flips at him calling you his and you turn to kiss his check, San turning to face you at the same time and your lips meet The kiss is sweet and gentle, just barely there.

San turns to to face you completely, his hand coming up to cup you check before giving you another slow kiss as your arms wrap around him. The kiss only last a moment, Mason’s footsteps coming up the stairs making you pull apart.

He stops at the door of the study, quickly asking San if he can stay the night with Nana and San looks at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “If it’s ok with your Nana, I don’t mind.” The sound of San calling your mother Mason’s nana makes your heart skip a beat.

You follow Mason down the stairs, listening as he asks if he can stay the night. Your mother doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course you can, my little monster.” Mason laughs and hugs her legs with a squeal. She turns to you and San, immediately noticing your intertwined hands. She smiles at the two you and gives you a slight nod of her head.

San tugs on your hand gently, looking at you with both lust and care as he leads you out of the door and across the lawn to his front door. He quickly unlocks it, letting you go in first. As soon as he steps through the door, his lips are on yours and his arms are around you.

You fist his shirt, pulling him as close as you can get him. It feels like the two of you are kissing forever, like the only oxygen you need is each other’s breath. San’s hands slide down to your hips, pulling your further against him, moaning slightly when you bump into his already hardening cock.

He pulls away, eyes flickering between yours. “Do you want to go to my room?” You aren’t sure you’ve ever nodding so fast as you take his hand and follow him.

You're able to take a brief look around San’s room before his lips are back on yours. His kisses are soft, gentle as his hands slowly find your waist. He tugs you closer to him, it's obvious he can't seem to get you close enough. His hands slide down, firmly kneading your ass.

You moan against his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He takes the chance he's been given, immediately deepening the kiss. His wet muscle dances with yours, slow and passionate. He steps forward, softly pushing you backwards until the backs of you legs hit his mattress, pushing you further back to lie flat.

He separates from you long enough for you to scoot until you're fully on his bed, him immediately climbing on top of you and connecting your lips again. One hand rests on your hip as his other cups your face. He pulls back, just far enough to speak against your lips.

“You're so pretty.” His voice is a whisper, but you still manage to hear him, and you give him a smile and peck his nose. “So are you.” He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours as his hands fall to the hem of your sweater.

“Can I?” You murder a soft ‘yes’ and he doesn't hesitate to lift it over your head. He stares at you in silence and you feel like you should be self conscious, but you aren't. You just let him admire you.

“Gorgeous.”

You aren't sure he meant for you to hear his words, so you don't say anything in return, just let out a whine, prompting him to snap out of his daze. He brings his hands up to cup your breasts over your bra, his touch firm but still soft. He looks up to your face, quirking an eyebrow up and you nod and sit up, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp what's between him and your bare skin.

He flings the fabric over his shoulder, not even bothering to see where it lands. His hands come back to your chest, gripping you once more. San gives your nipples attention, pinching them in between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to arch your back with a soft moan. The sound of your pleasure makes him let out a moan himself, obviously enjoying that you're enjoying his actions.

Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your perked buds, his tongue immediately making its presence known with a flick. His hand continues to massage your other breast.

After a moment, he switches sides. “San. Please. Need you.” Your voice is in a quiet whine, as much as you enjoy what he's doing, your core throbs with need. He pulls back, releasing your nipple with a pop. His eyes are blown out with last, but his gaze is still soft and caring.

He slides his hands down your body, finding the button of your pants and flicking it open. He backs off the bed, immediately falling to his knees as he grabs your pants by the hem, slowly pulling them down.

The tension in the air is thick and you can tell that he's enjoying the teasing nature in which he undresses you. Your pants find the floor like your sweater and bra. His lips are on your ankle before you realize what is happening, slowly kissing up your leg.

He places a barely there kiss on your clothed core before kissing down your other leg, only to stick the tip of his tongue to your skin and lick his way back up to your hip. The unexpected action causes you to shiver with want, and you look down at San only to find him staring back at you with a smirk.

He grabs at your panties, continuing his slow pace in pulling them down. Part of you wishes he would hurry, but the greater part is enjoying the build up. Once your panties are off, he once again takes a moment to just look at you.

Slowly, he brings a finger to your core, sliding it from your hole up to your clit. You let out a soft moan, his groan coming not long after. “Look at that, baby. You're soaking. I've barely done anything, love. Is this all for me?” His words shoot a jolt through your body, causing your core to throb even harder.

“All for you, San. All yours.” Your words seem to spur him into action as he leans forward, his tongue making the same movement his finger had. Your moan is louder this time, his own moan right against your pussy has you bucking up into his face.

His hands find your thighs, wrapping around them to speak you open for him. He brings the tip of his tongue to circle your throbbing bud while your hand finds its way into his hair. He hums against you, his way of telling you that he approves of what you're doing and you give a slight tug. You can see his hips buck against the mattress, prompting you to give one more tug.

He dives into you, sliding his tongue up and down your pussy a few times before coming back to your clip for a brief moment before repeating. Your moans echo throughout the room as brings his finger to your entrance, sliding on in slowly. Your hips buck on their own as he pulls back out, a second finger joining as he slides back in.

His mouth is working hard against you and his fingers search for a moment before they find what he's looking for. A loud moan rips from your throat as he pushes against the spongy part inside of you. “Right there, baby?” You only manage a nod and he goes back to eating your can't, doubling his efforts as his fingers speed up. Your mind is swirling as your orgasm builds. No one has ever been able to work you up this quickly.

You're babbling now, vaguely aware of what you're saying. “Feels s'good. Please. Please.” He pulls back just enough to mumble against your core. “Come on, angel. Let go. Cum for me.” The vibrations against you coupled with his already fucked out voice causes the dam inside you to burst as you coat his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, fingers slowing down as your high fades. You look down to find him staring at you in awe. You mumble for him to climb back onto the bed and he immediately grants your wish.

Your hands move with purpose as you pull him to you, grabbing his shirt and ripping it from his body. Your breath catches as you look at the ridges and planes of his chest. He's well built, looking like a man cut from marble. “Fuck.” The words come out breathy and as you look back to his face, you can see a slight blush.

You place a soft kiss on his lips as you push him gently to lie on his back. He offers no resistance, letting you move him as you please. You spread his legs enough for you to fit in between his thighs as you bend down to kiss down his throat. He lets out a soft whine when your lips find his chest and you take the opportunity to give him a slight bite and his hips buck upwards. You can feel his hardened length against you and your core gushes with a fresh wave of wetness.

Your hands find his jeans, making quick work of getting them off of him, pulling his underdogs down with them. His cock hits his stomach and for a moment you're in awe. He's above average, but not huge. Long and thick, but you can't help but think that's it's the prettiest dick you've ever seen. His voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Baby. Please do something. I'm dying here.” You give him a slight chuckle, cupping his election with a gentle squeeze. His moan is load and oh so beautiful.

You scoot yourself down until your face meets his cock, your tongue peeking out to give his tip a kitten lick. This time he whines, obviously not able to take the slow treatment he had given you. You lick from his balls to his tip slowly, circling your tongue around the mushroom head of his cock.

Without missing a beat, your mouth engulfs his length, sliding down as far as you can take. Your hand wraps around what your mouth can't fit and you slowly start to bob your head. Just as yours had done, his hand finds your hair, giving a slight pull and you moan around him.

His hips buck again, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat and you hold back a gag. You let him slowly buck into your mouth as words tumble from his mouth. “Oh god. Fuck. So warm. Feels so good.” You pull off of his length as his thrusts get faster and he whines at the loss of contact.

You sit back up on your heels, watching the way his chest rises and falls heavily. You make eye contact as you speak, wanting to see his every reaction to your words.

“Condom?” He scrambles to his knees, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and pull out a foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, moving to place the rubber around himself. You stop him before he can, taking it from him and sliding it slowly down his length yourself. His groan comes from the back of his throat.

Once the condom is snug around his cock, you push him back down, climbing on top of him. You slide his cock up and down your pussy, getting him slick with your juices. On the slide back down, you push his tip into you.

Your moans come simultaneously, making a beautiful song of pleasure. His hands find your hips as you rotate them, letting your walls adjust. “Wait. Baby, give me a minute.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he pants. After a moment, he gives your hips a squeeze, letting you know that you can move.

Lifting your hips, you rise and fall back down slowly, enjoying the way he feels inside of you. You keep your pace slow, wanting to savor every moment of pleasure. The more you move the more San whines. His hands are clawing at your hips, his nails leaving little marks on your skin. He's babbling again and you clench around him.

“So fucking good. Fit me perfectly. Like you were made for me.” You lean forward, placing your lips on his as your pace increases slightly. At this angle, the tip of his cock nudges the place you need. It isn't long before your hurling towards your second orgasm, San's name repeatedly falling from your lips. With one thrust from San, your falling over the edge with a moan.

San makes quick work of flipping you over, his length never leaving your core. His pace is faster than you had expected, but his strokes hit deep. You've had no time to recover from your orgasm, but the sensitivity you're feeling only improves the way you feel. San is letting out of string of grunts as his balls hit against your ass. Your nails are digging into his back as you hold on to him.

“You're so perfect. So glad I get to have you like this. Wanted this for a while. Dreamt about it.” It's like he can't stop talking and you can't say that it bothers you. His hips start to stutter as the tension builds in your belly.

“San. I'm gonna come again. Cum with me. Please, baby. Please.”

Your words seems to have the desired effect as he delivers one last hard thrust, your name leaving his mouth in a groan as he fills the condom. Your high hits you at the perfect time, syncing with his. He falls on your body for a moment, panting heavily as you both come down.

He slowly pulls out of you with a wince, looking down to see your cunt still slightly pulsing. He gives a sweet kiss to your clit, giggling and apologizing as you whine and try to back away from him. You watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean you up. He takes great care to get you well cleaned. “You want to take a shower?” You nod and make grabby hands at him and he lets a loud laugh and connects your hands to pull you up gently.

The shower is filled with soft touches and even softer kisses as you clean yourselves. Once the water is turned off and you've dried yourselves off, San offers you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, which you eagerly accept.

You crawl into bed, finding yourself in his arms immediately. It's quiet, but comfortable. “So. You're mine now, right?” The fact that he even has to asks makes you giggle a little. Tilting your head up to face him, you place a kiss to his jaw.

“Yeah. I'm yours.”

Christmas the next morning is spent in your mother’s house, the four of you enjoying dinner and opening presents. And finally in your life, everything feels right.

[ONE YEAR LATER]

A year flies by, bringing new challenges and experiences and you're beyond happy. You watch as Mason plays on the floor by the tree with your mother, who's helping him unwrap his presents.

“Mommy, look!”

Your heart soars at the boy calling you mom. You can feel San smiling as he stands behind you, arms around your waist. As you talk to Mason about his new toy, you don't notice the look your mother gives your boyfriend. Behind you, he smiles, slowly reaching into his pocket, trying not to draw your attention. Your mother smiles wide as she watches San pull the ring box out of his pocket slightly.

[cegiel-athelia]

In This Lifetime

(a Love and Deepspace fanfic featuring Zayne)

Genre: Fluff mostly. Hints of intimacy.

I reckon that based on his head cannon, Zayne would be hesitant to get MC pregnant in light of her heart condition, especially since he is her doctor. So I wanted to write about it — about the conversation that they would have had.

I haven’t written a fanfic in years. Who knows whether I may start again. But this is all I have, for now.

I did my best to stay true to the storyline and memories.

I hope that this will be a pleasant read.

====================================

Lying in bed, you gazed at the man peacefully sleeping next to you on the right side of the bed — his preferred side, the glow of the moonlight that seeped through the curtains gently bounced off his dark hair. Zayne’s fingers were interlaced with yours and he held it close to him as he slept, his frame rising and falling quietly as he breathed. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his face. He was beautiful in both body and soul.

Tonight was one of the few nights you both were able to spend a full night together. Such were the demands of his job. You did not want to so much as move lest you wake him. His sleep was mostly deep in short stints, yet light since his body was attuned to be ready on call at any given moment.

You reminisced about the time when you first met him — he was so little then, as you were too — and how he ‘fixed’ your melting popsicle with his evol so that you could be happy again, and you were. You recalled him speaking of this once when you were dating, although you acted as if you could not remember the event only so that you could hear it from his point of view. The manner in which he spoke of it made your heart blossom with love for him. You wanted so much to return the love he gave, which has been consistently genuine and magnanimous. It was only natural that you would fall so deeply in love with him.

It has been three years since you married him and everyday with him was a blessing. Earlier during this night, he was passionate — he usually was, but more so tonight and it was probably because you.

See, Zayne was innately caring as a person, but it was also an occupational hazard. You knew he wanted to live a full life with you as you too wanted it with him. Before tonight, he was always cautious to protect you during intimacy. His concern stemmed mostly from your heart condition, and the rest of it was because you had not yet expressed that you were prepared to be with child — until tonight.

Your mind wandered back to the conversation you had and you remembered feeling bashful as you called out his name between his heated kisses to draw his attention. When his eyes, glazed with desire met yours, your cheeks flared causing you to involuntarily look away. You were secretly glad that the darkness of the bedroom hid your reddening cheeks from his view. Still, he was not impatient with you and waited for you to continue.

You steeled your nerves as you uttered, “Zayne.. I..” You paused to glance at him, but his gaze was too intense for you to maintain eye contact. Looking downwards, your fingers gently gripped his shoulder for support as you continued between pauses, “I.. wanna start a family with you.”

His silence unnerved you and you looked to him again, searching for an indication in his expression, but he was hard to read.

Uncertainty and doubt started to cloud your mind. Maybe you had been wrong about him wanting a family seeing as he was lonely in his childhood.

Almost failing to mask the disappointment in your voice, you murmured, “Only if you want—“

“I want it.” He said before you could finish your sentence. Taking your hand in his, he pressed it to his heart, and your evol autonomously resonated with it, revealing his quickening heartbeat. “All I have ever wanted was to share a life with you and you have made that wish finally come true. For that, I am eternally grateful.” He pressed his lips onto your forehead in a long gentle kiss before meeting your eyes again.

“I researched.” This time it was him who looked away, voice trailing off. He had effectively confessed that he was of the same mind — that he wanted you to bear his child.

You smiled as you concocted several lines that would possibly tease him, but you said nothing so that he could continue.

“Whilst yours is a unique condition, there is no known study to evidence that pregnancy would adversely affect a heart condition as long as you remain disciplined in taking your medication in consultation with both the obstetrician and your primary care physician.” It was dark but you could tell he was smirking when he referred to himself.

“Yes, Dr. Zayne. I trust that you would’ve conducted research on how best to impregnate your wife.” You smirked while drawing your lips closer to his, ensuring that he felt the heat of your exhalation on his skin. With a lilt, you breathed, “I leave myself, and my body, in your good and incredibly strong hands.”

The conversation ended and a sensual dance of bodies took center stage. It was a night you would remember.

A smile found its way onto your lips as you lovingly gazed at your husband in recollection of the night’s events. You unconsciously stroke his hand that was holding yours with your thumb, which caused the man to stir and sleepy eyes met yours.

Leaning over to brush his fringe from his forehead, you whispered, “I’ll love you in every lifetime.”