#i miss my mom but i miss someone she never was.....

[hoonven]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

2.1K ⸺ a moment of clarity brings you back to your fiancé, flour-dusted and waiting, and somehow, amid the remnants of your champagne problems, you find hope stirring in the winter air

‎PAIRING! fiancé!park sunghoon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS! mentions of emotionally absent parents, brief mention of food, the reader struggles with overcoming childhood fears, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything

Park Sunghoon was like snow, a silent beauty in the unforgiving frigid season of winter. He was the joy of building snowmen, the thrill of snowball fights, and the wonder of making snow angels. He was the delicate touch of snowflakes melting on your skin, the serene hush of snowfall blanketing the world. He was the sweetness of gingerbread cookies and the warmth of hot cocoa brimming with marshmallows. He was the comfort of a flickering fireplace, the softness of a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around you, the subtle perfume of winter spices from a burning candle.

Park Sunghoon was like snow—pure, ethereal, and timeless. He shone like the star atop a Christmas tree, his presence brought the excitement of a gift waiting to be unwrapped. He was the nostalgia of holiday movies you’ve seen a hundred times, yet never grew tired of.

Park Sunghoon was winter’s magic, a special spirit that blessed the earth in all its glory.

So why did you feel the biting cold?

It was exactly a year ago on Christmas Eve, and his proposal was perfect. The snow-covered gazebo twinkled with string lights, the crisp air carried the scent of pine, and a soft melody of carolers drifted from the town square. His hand, trembling but steady, had pulled a blue velvet box from his coat pocket. He smiled, warm and sure, as if he already knew your answer.

“Will you marry me?” he’d asked. The four simple words spoken in the kind of voice that could thaw an endless winter.

Your heart swelled, your hands shook, and you whispered a quiet “yes.” But later that night, as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the world outside froze over, doubt crept in like frost spreading across a windowpane.

Your mother’s voice rang in your ears, in weary resignation. You remembered how she used to sit by the window in the afternoons, staring out at a world she never felt part of anymore. “I gave up everything,” she had said once. “For my kids. For my husband. And look where it got me.”

The memory tightened around your chest like a vice. Sunghoon wasn’t like your father—he wasn’t distant, distracted, or cold. He was attentive, affectionate, and endlessly patient. But still, what if? What if marrying him meant losing yourself, too? What if everything started out great and then slowly got worse just like it did for your parents?

“Talk to me,” he said one evening, his voice soft but firm as he pulled you from the kitchen where you’d been stirring a pot of soup you didn't intend to eat. The engagement ring on your finger catches the light, a reminder of the promise you made but aren’t sure you can keep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re lying.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles. “You’ve been somewhere else since last Christmas Eve.”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard. You had almost forgotten how good he was at psychologizing you in the midst of your internal battle. But you lie again—because it's what comes most naturally to you when someone asks if you're okay.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed.”

“It’s not nothing. I can see it on your face. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

His persistence feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, but you’re not ready to let the warmth in. You pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if shielding your heart from his. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. What if I end up like my mom? What if I lose myself in this, Sunghoon?”

The words hang in the air like smoke, and for a moment, his expression cracks—hurt flickering across his features like a candle about to go out. But then he steps closer, his voice steady, gentle. “You’re not your mom. And I’m not your dad. Your mom had dreams, ambitions—things she was passionate about just like you. But the difference is you found someone who loves that about you. I would never ask you to give any of that up.”

“But what if I do anyway?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “What if I forget who I am because I love you too much?”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he said simply. “Every day, if I have to.”

His words chipped away at the icy wall you had built around yourself, but fear is a stubborn thing, clinging even as warmth seeps in.

You suppose that's why you're sitting on a couch, staring at the framed watercolor painting on the wall—something abstract, meant to be calming, but to you, it’s just a swirl of indistinct shapes. Your hands fidget with the hem of your knit sweater as the snow-laden world outside the window reflects your mood: quiet, heavy, and cold.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name pulls you back. Your therapist, Dr. Hart, leans forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. Her voice is soft, patient. “What’s on your mind?”

You blink, feeling the heat of her steady gaze. “Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing down at your hands. “Nothing, really. Just lost in thought.”

Dr. Hart tilts her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing’s rarely ever nothing. Take your time.”

For a moment, the room feels too small, too quiet, but you exhale and decide to speak. “Sunghoon,” you admit softly.

“Your fiancé?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest as the word settles between you. Fiancé. It’s supposed to feel joyful, exciting, but lately, it’s felt complicated.

“I love him,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really do. He’s kind, supportive, and everything I could ever ask for in a man. But ever since he proposed, I’ve been… scared?”

Dr. Hart doesn’t interrupt, her expression open and encouraging.

“I keep thinking about my parents,” you continue. “My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She stopped working, stayed home to raise me and my siblings, and over time, she just… lost herself. She used to love winning lawsuits for her clients, but eventually, all she did was clean and cook and wait for him to come home. She became so bitter, and my dad barely noticed. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to lose myself like she did.”

“And you’re afraid marrying Sunghoon will put you on the same path,” Dr. Hart says, her voice gentle.

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know Sunghoon isn’t my dad. He’s nothing like him. But what if I am like my mom? What if, without meaning to, I give up who I am because I love him too much?”

Dr. Hart lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you’ve built a wall around yourself, trying to protect your identity and your independence. And that’s not a bad thing—those parts of you are important. But Y/N, have you ever asked yourself this: is Sunghoon asking you to give those parts up?”

You blink, her question catching you off guard, and you're reminded of your conversation with him a few days ago when he pulled you out of the kitchen. “No,” you admit quietly. “He’s always encouraging me to do what I love. And reminding me to take breaks when I get too wrapped up in work.”

Dr. Hart nods thoughtfully. “It seems to me that the fear you’re holding onto doesn’t come from Sunghoon. It comes from your past—from what you saw in your parents’ relationship. You’ve taken that fear and made it your own, but it doesn’t have to be. You are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father. Their story is not yours.”

Her words land like a stone sinking into water, rippling through your thoughts.

“But what if I still mess it up?” you ask, your voice small. “What if I get it wrong?”

Dr. Hart smiles gently. “Every relationship takes work, compromise, and communication. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on your fears, tells me you care deeply about doing this right. Sunghoon sounds like someone who sees you for who you are and loves you as you are. Maybe the question isn’t about whether you’ll lose yourself but whether you’ll allow yourself to trust you—and him.”

The knot in your chest loosens, her words settling like fresh snow over the chaos in your mind.

“Trust him,” you echo softly, more to yourself than to her.

Dr. Hart nods. “And trust yourself. You are not defined by your parents’ choices. You have the power to create the future you desire.”

For the first time in a year, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter. You leave the session feeling like the frost in your heart is starting to melt, warmed by the realization that maybe, just maybe, you can be brave enough to trust in the love you’ve found—and the person you’ve grown to be.

The smell hits you first—something warm and sweet, mingling with the faintest hint of something burning. You push open the front door, stepping into the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you and Sunghoon had decorated last week. Lights twinkle softly, casting shadows that dance on the walls, but it’s the sound of soft muttering coming from the kitchen that makes you smile.

When you round the corner, you stop in your tracks.

Sunghoon is standing by the counter, dusted in flour from his hair to his slippers, poking at a tray of slightly misshapen cookies. He’s wearing the most outrageously festive apron you’ve ever seen—bright red with cartoon reindeer and candy canes, a pair of oven mittens that look like Santa’s hands resting on the counter. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he lifts one cookie with a spatula, only for it to crumble in half.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head.

You press a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sound escapes anyway, and his head snaps up.

“You’re home,” he says, his eyes lighting up despite the flour smudged on his cheek. “Uh, surprise?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, stepping closer.

He shrugs sheepishly, glancing at the mess on the counter. “I thought I’d try making your favorite holiday cookies. You know, the ones your mom always made? I figured it might cheer you up.” He winces as he looks at the tray. “But, uh, they didn’t turn out as planned. I think I overdid the ginger or… probably everything.”

Your chest tightens, but not with anxiety this time. It’s the kind of warmth that spreads slowly, filling the cracks you’ve been carrying.

You see it then, as clear as the frost on the windowpane: you are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father.

Your mother gave up everything, but you won’t. You’ve built a life filled with love, with purpose, with someone who sees you for who you are and encourages you to be more. Sunghoon doesn’t take from you—he gives.

The thought warms you like a fire on a cold winter night.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He frowns, stepping toward you. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at therapy?”

You shake your head, and before he can say anything else, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, surprised, then melts into the hug, his arms slipping around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “And I'm sorry for being so distant, for letting my fears get in the way. You’ve been so patient with me, and I should’ve trusted you more. Trusted myself more. I should’ve trusted us more.”

“I love you, Sunghoon, and I want to marry you.” You say, the words spilling out like a confession. “I just needed time to remember that I’m not her. And you’re not him.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to remind you that I’m here, no matter what.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His gaze is steady, warm, as he cups your cheek with his flour-dusted hand. “We’re gonna be more than okay. You’re not her, Y/N. You’re you—stubborn in all the best ways.” His lips quirk into a small smile. “And you’re stuck with me, reindeer apron and all.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and free. “You look ridiculous by the way,” you say, brushing a smudge of flour from his cheek.

“Ridiculously handsome,” he counters with a grin.

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss him, a silent promise in the way your lips meet. Outside, snow falls softly, blanketing the world in a quiet peace. And in his arms, you finally feel warm.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[siskissbee]

It's really funny finally getting into siscon/fauxcest with my sister-girlfriend because it really feels like the missing puzzle piece and like we were always meant to be sisters.

We look extremely similar and are very frequently mistaken for being sisters while out together. I have at least once been mistaken for her and on two separate occasions, old friends of my mom's who haven't seen me since I was a kid, pre-transition, have met her and wholeheartedly believed she was me. I also took a cute photo of her recently sitting next to one of my blood-siblings doing the same pose and it's kinda shocking to me that she almost looks more related to my siblings than I do.

I also have basically been living with her and her family for the last two years as part of their family. My gf moved back in with her parents and younger sibling during covid, before we were together, and since we don't have our own place yet I've basically soft-moved in and her family just treats me as one of their own. My gf and I have basically the exact same humor and so I basically hit it off perfectly with her family day-one and just fell into their dynamic and conversations as if I had always been there.

My girlfriend and I are basically just a single unit at this point, outside of work we are attached at the hip at practically all times and our families and friends have kinda just accepted this as the way we work. We almost never do anything apart. It's like we share the same brain cell and constantly have the same thoughts and reactions and emotions at the same time. We constantly will go to make the exact same joke or reference at the same time, even in conversations just the two of us, or someone will ask us a question and we will have the exact same reply delivered with the same timing and cadence. It's honestly kinda freaky lol.

It really feels like we're already as close and identical as two people could be without being blood-related so it feels just so natural and perfect and right to call her my sister. I just wish there were some way to actually make us truly blood sisters and we could've grown up together.

Has anybody else had a similar experience?

[sol-iscus]

Ambessa.......that's another one that felt personal. Probably because my own mom is kinda like Ambessa in her own right (that rigidity and inability to see past the ultimate endgame). But I really wanted her and Mel to.........not necessarily reconcile, but come to an understanding of each other. They kinda started that a bit in season 1 when Mel confronted her, but then it just fizzled out.

Also,you mean to tell me that Ambessa never actually went looking for Mel herself at any point during her disappearance? She couldn't send someone to find her if she couldn't do it herself? The same Ambessa that said she would set the world ablaze to protect her family? Her son got killed. I would hope she would be a bit more concerned about her last and only child being missing without an explanation or trace.

Then Mel comes back and Ambessa doesn't seem particularly phased by that either. If my kid rolled up mid-battle, after being missing for how long, with powers that I know she didn't have before, I would have the world of questions to ask. Especially if I knew she was more or less an active target for kidnapping because of my own fuckery.

Then the way she went out.........I'm shaking,I'm so mad. It felt like such a cop-out. If she was a casualty of the war she started, it would be ironic but poetic. Or if she and Mel had an actual one vs one fight, it could be very master vs student teas. But the fact that she was essentially lobotomized by LeBlanc before her death.......😬. Don't love the real life implications of that either.

(Something,something, mothers and daughters as wretched mirrors of each other.)

I wholeheartedly agree. I’m also extremely dissatisfied with the way Mel’s arc was handled and everything that you described between Mel and Ambessa, so ima complain about it again.

They gave her a man who was hardly ever there for her. His first reaction to see Mel again was not relief that she was still alive and (relatively) okay. No, it was anger and accusations thrown at her under the assumption she could have saved Viktor when nobody knew Jinx was going to blow up the council. Comforting Mel was a second thought in Jayce’s mind, never first.

Her friend Elora is dead, and seemed to be her only friend as well.

Her mom is now dead, and being killed by her daughter was an absolutely foul way for Ambessa to go out.

When is Mel allowed to have a full breakdown and cry after all she went through? Not just shed a few tears, but fully unleash everything she has felt. Jayce had Mel’s lap to lay on whenever he needed her, but who does Mel have at the end of the day? Absolutely nobody. Nothing but painful memories.

A strong, gorgeous black woman cleaning up everyone else’s mess, being moral support, and helping lead Piltover. She deserved more than a few minutes of shedding tears, she deserved to rage.

[dunedragon]

Good news, I felt in the mood to explore Vampire social dynamics and vocalizations in writing so I had written this out this morning.

Fair warning, it's entirely unedited.

The first new sound Haruka had learned from her son was a low warble.

They were two preteen twins, and human or not they were almost impossible to control. No matter how many times she scolded them, they always seem to find a way to get into trouble.

‘What have I said about rough housing inside?’ she would huff, gesturing over a broken vase. ‘Take it outside!’

'Sorry…' Lan muttered.

‘wrooble wrooble wrooble.’ Hub warbled.

Yes, Mom, is what she’d come to learn it meant.

When Hub finally came home after missing for months, he was different. He was alert, movements sudden and yet his stance perfectly still. His now red eyes watched the world, wide and silent, as if seeing someplace entirely new for the first time.

For Haruka, it was almost like seeing someone new for the first time.

That is not my son, she first thought, yet over time she began to see traces of who he used to be beneath the inhuman exterior. Despite no longer being able to eat his favorite food, he still pestered his brother first thing in the morning. His footsteps were impossibly silent down the hall, but he still poked his head into her bedroom after a bad dream. He could no longer touch the sunlight, but he still watched the old birdhouse in the backyard like he always did.

The second noise she learned was a strange rattling sound. It found its way before laughter, or whenever Lan playfully shoved his brother. He made it when she pat his head, or when he was curling up in bed for the night.

It was also a precursor to bursts of energy and broken vases. She learned to always keep watch if she heard it down the hall.

The third noise was the easiest to understand, or so she thought. The first time Hub had hissed was when there was a knock at the door from the mailman. His fingers had dug into the fabric of the chair as he exposed his fangs at the door, and it nearly scared her half to death. He apologized profusely, he always did, but the hissing never stopped.

He hissed at Lan, he hissed at her, he hissed at his own father when he found the time to be home. Whether she accidentally startled him in the hall, or a light was turned on too quickly, it was always the same.

‘Hisss—! Sorry.’ He’d mumble, covering his mouth.

Of all the changes, this new aggression gave her the most heartache. Did he not feel safe around them? Or had he changed too much, no longer her son, and she was simply housing a monster wearing his skin? Did he hate them for what happened?

She could never forget the way his pupils narrowed. For a split second he seemed like something completely different.

A predator.

She held these fears as she walked home from the convenience store late one night. She had forgotten to buy butter and took Hub with her so he could stretch his legs without worrying about the sun. He walked silently by her side, almost like a shadow glued to her leg as she appreciated the quiet, calm neighborhood they lived in.

An older gentleman walked towards them, on the way to the store with an empty reusable bag in hand. Haruka didn’t give him a second thought. She didn’t even look his way till Hub suddenly gripped her leg with terrifying force.

‘Hiiissss!’

There came no apology.

The older man stepped back, red eyes catching the street light as he bared his own fangs. He let out a terrifying snarl that shot through her like ice in her veins. It was the sound of something built to kill her, that wanted to kill her. Something that some part of her always knew to fear underneath the bed or in the closet.

Hub’s hisses seemed like a kitten in comparison.

‘Hiiisssssssss!’ Hub hissed again, more forcefully.

Haruka couldn’t move. It was as if her blood at turned to ice. She was paralyzed. A small voice deep inside told her it was too late. She couldn’t escape. She would die here.

Hub let out a low, threatening rumble like she had never heard before. The older gentleman bared his fangs before letting out a snort.

“You really think you can take me? Besides, she’s too much for you. How about this, we split her.”

Hub hissed again. It was then that she learned the true meaning behind it all.

Mine.

It was defensive. It was protection. It wasn’t aggression at all. For an agonizing moment, all three stood like ice sculptures lit up in the dark by the overhead street light, a moment carved into time.

Then Hub huffed and spoke in a low growl. “You smell lonely.”

The man bared his fangs once again, but took a step back, then another. Without another word, he turned away, and walked into the shadows, seemingly swallowed by the night till she could no longer see him.

Haruka fell to her knees and sobbed.

Hub carefully wrapped his arms around her, in that slow, cautious way he had ever since he returned from Scilabs.

“Sorry…” He whispered.

She threw her arms back around him and held him close till she could hear him let out a familiar rattle.

“I’m sorry too.” She cried.

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; no yapping today

part one. part two.

you never knew how relaxing it was to lay in the sun, the steady movements of the boat gently rocking you side to side. it was almost as if you hadn't set fire to everything you and john b grew up believing.

john b knew his mom took off when he was a kid, what he didn't know was that she was pregnant when she left. you thought that your dad died and your mom lived in your hometown her entire life.

both of you agreed that, for now at least, this branch of the family tree would be kept from the others until you've had enough time to fully wrap your heads around everything without the added input from everyone else.

"ladies and losers." john b claps, grabbing the attention of everyone on board "with the newest addition to our dysfunctional family," he gestures in your direction earning applause from the group, with the addition of a cheer from jj "the no pouge-on-pouge macking rule is still in full effect, just in case anyone has forgotten."

you don't miss the glare sent in jj's direction, the blond in question, however, was too busy making a face at you to even notice that he was the target of that rule.

it takes everything in you not to laugh, you understand why the rule may have been implemented in the past. young kids making up rules to protect their friendship. but you surely were all old enough and mature enough to handle real adult relationships.

"does our newest recruit partake?" pope asked throwing a can of beer to jj and kiara before looking at you once more.

"are you forgetting she was flat drunk when she went all cat woman on topper?" kiara joked, cracking open her can and raising it to you "to passing your initiation."

"and to beating the shit out of a kook!"

"here here!"

you sit up to bow as the others raise their cans to you, unable to stop the soft laugh that escapes as you sit up again "thank you, thank you. i'd like to thank my agent, my manager,"

john b jokingly shoves your shoulder to shut you up "a little humility wouldn't kill you, you know."

"humility is for losers" you taunt, making your way over to the cooler to see for yourself what was inside "besides, you owe me so humility is redundant."

before you can continue excusing your incoming speech, you're jolted forward by a sudden bump in the boat. you lose your footing, grabbing the closest thing to you and dragging it into the water with you.

person. the closest person to you and dragging them into the water with you.

you were a pretty decent swimmer, decent enough to not drown at least, but when you hit the water, any swimming ability was replaced with dread. truth be told you shouldn't be surprised, not even twenty four hours ago someone did in fact try to drown you so it was only natural you began to panic.

your brain was begging your body to do something, to override your fear with instinct, but no matter what you did all you could do was kick and flail.

you cling to the familiar frame dragging you to the surface, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala clung to a tree. you hid your face in the crook of jj's neck to shield your tears from the group, even if there was a chance you could explain it away as water in your eyes.

"you're okay, baby" jj coos, his hand cradling the back of your head "you're safe, i got you."

"the fuck was that!?" kiara shouts, helping the boys drag you and jj back onto the boat.

pope peers out over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that could be in the water "guys, i think we hit a boat?" he calls out over his shoulder.

almost as if in sync, jj and john b exchanged a knowing look. they knew what it meant, from what you learned so far they've been attached at the hip for years so it wasn't a shock that they had some weird telepathy.

without a word from either of them, they dive off the side of the boat and into the water, undoubtedly to scout out whatever pope had spotted. neither kiara or pope showed much of a reaction, probably because they were used to their antics.

you, on the other hand, sat by the edge of the boat and peered into the murky water below. you were holding your breath, waiting for any sort of sign of life from either of the boys.

time passes agonisingly slowly, but soon enough you spot the unmistakable head of brown hair rising to the surface.

"jackpot, baby!" jj hollers, throwing his arms into the air in celebration "one poor bastard made aggie mad, that's a seriously primo boat."

kiara shrugs "what do those kooks expect, they're harming the environment with their flashy boats, it's karma."

"easy there, greenpeace." john b huffs, pulling himself up and into the boat "mother natures most recent victim could have all sorts of profitable shit inside."

"exibit a," jj announces proudly, producing a silver canister from his pocket "would our newest pledge like to do the honours?"

"i would love to incriminate myself by stealing private property!" you exclaim, sarcasm dripping off of every syllable. nonetheless, you take it from him and shake its contents onto the floor of the boat.

the metallic clang makes everyone wince, the group sighing in disappointment of seeing what was inside.

"wow, greaat, almost died over a lousy compass." jj groans, plopping himself down into a seat.

"it isn't a lousy compass," you mutter, scrambling to retrieve your fathers' compass from your backpack and comparing the two side by side.

they were identical.

"cause that isnt freaky.." pope mumbled, peering over your shoulder.

when you look to john b, he's already looking at you, knowing exactly who this compass used to belong to.

"it's a set," your voice sounds like you have just joined the dots of a brain wracking mystery.

"two compasses, one for each kid."

before anyone can question what exactly john b meant by that, a sharp noise zips past your ear, grazing the top of your arm and scaring the shit out of you.

the five of you look towards the source of the noise, another boat is coming towards the hms pouge, and the two men on board looked far from pleased as they aimed their guns right at the five of you.

"shit, shit!" john b ducks into the drivers seat and hits the gas, jolting all of you backwards as you sped through the marsh "get down!"

you all do as instructed, laying face down on the boats floor, rocking with every sharp, zig-zagged movement john b made. each of you flinch every time a metallic ding rings out against the boat's exterior, you hear kiara humming a tune to keep her mind occupied.

your eyes scan the boat for anything that could help, an idea coming to you the second you spot an old fishing net.

"y/n, what are you doing!? get down!"

you ignore popes shouts, moving quickly to gather up the net and toss it off the back of the boat. as you had hoped, the aggressors' boat gets caught up in the net, allowing john b to get you all out of there without harm.

"you moronic genius!" john b half praises, half scolds, the moment the boat stops at the chateau's dock. grabbing your shoulders and giving you a shake "what is with you and almost dying?"

"a thank you wouldn't hurt," you retort, the throbbing sting in your upper arm still as prominent as when it first happened "this poor girl couldn't handle it."

you pat the side of the hms as you climb off, your fellow pouges following behind as you all tiredly drag your feet towards the house.

"looks gnarly," jj remarked, appearing beside you and focusing his gaze on the small wound on your arm "here, lemme help out."

you are very much aware that it's nothing more than a surface wound, barely a graze, yet you allowed jj to lead you over to the hammock and sit you down.

when he headed inside to grab what he needed, you sank into the comfort of the hammock and closed your eyes. the slight breeze, the gentle rocking of the hammock, the warm sun burning down on you. it does a good job of helping you decompress from the insanity that ensued since your arrival.

the hammock shifts under you when jj returns, the extra weight tilting the fabric to bring you closer to him. he doesn't want to speak, to disturb you in your peaceful bubble. he knows he's staring but he can't look away.

"you just got here and you already look like you've been put through the wringer." jj jokes, though there's a clear sense of seriousness underneath.

and he isn't wrong, the bluish bruises staining your throat from toppers hand, and now the blood smeared all over your arm which made it look much worse than it was.

"two near-death experiences will do that,"

"two near-death experiences so far.."

you know he's telling the truth, but you can't help but laugh as he helps you sit up. a comfortable silence falls between you as he wipes around the graze with a cloth, before gently placing a bandaid over the wound.

the close proximity doesn't seem to phase either of you, at least not enough to get anyone to move. without a word, he reclines back into the hammock, an arm out in a silent invitation.

you reason with yourself that it was harmless, john b's 'macking' rule echoing in your ears as you considered your options. realistically speaking, both you and jj knew this was far from harmless but more like the edge of a slippery slope you could both snowball down.

but you were tired, and it was jj, and the others weren't even around to see it.

no harm, no foul, right?

taglist!

@rainingcecilias @gigistalked @loverofmarsss

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving has always been… a little difficult with your family, but whose isn’t? You tried warning Curtis about how terrible they could be, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Year after year, they ask you if you’re bringing a special someone, giving fake sympathetic smiles when you say ‘no’ yet again. So they stopped asking, until you showed up with this beefcake on your arm this year. And of course you cousin gets up to instantly tear you apart in front of him, like she always does because how dare someone have something better than her. Jealous priss. But you’re not gonna let her get away with it. Not this time. And as soon as you stand up to her, Curtis is so proud to be with someone so strong, giving you this look, an admiring smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, from his spot next to you at the table.

Oh Essie, this prompt tapped into some extended family stuff for me. It's been many years since I've had to do the whole big family holiday thing, and I'll be honest, I don't miss it.

I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Let Us Eat Quickly

Pairing: Curtis Everett x demisexual demiromantic female reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: friendly but toxic family, probably a little aphobia, amatonormativity out the wazoo, explicit language All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: Big thanks to @stellar-solar-flare who helped me gut check this and @darsynia who poured through so much Thanksgiving poetry to help me settle on a title. It comes from Home for Thanksgiving by Linda Pastan

You stood at the door, Curtis beside you with his hand on your back. “It’s not too late to turn around,” you mumbled to him.

He just chuckled good-naturedly. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one, meeting your family for the first time. Relax, I know how families can be. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you think,” you said under your breath, then pasted on a smile as the door opened to reveal your aunt.

She immediately threw her arms around you. “Oh my god! It’s been so long!” She pulled back and then looked at Curtis, her eyes widening. “Holy smokes, he really does exist! When your mom told me you were bringing someone, I couldn’t believe it. Figured it had to be a figment of her imagination. But look at him! He’s real!”

You took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. This is Curtis. Curtis, this is my Aunt Jan.”

Curtis reached out to shake her hand, a completely bewildered expression on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jan pulled him into a hug instead. “So nice to meet you, honey! You don’t know just how much of a miracle you are!” Once she let him go, she ushered you both inside. She called into the house, letting everyone know you were there. “And she’s brought her real-life boyfriend!”

“What the fuck?” Curtis mumbled.

You squeezed his hand. “That’s just how she is,” you whispered.

You moved through the house, greeting various aunts, uncles, and cousins, weathering the over-the-top shock from all of them. You could tell Curtis was getting irritated, so you tried rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand in soothing circles. You finally reached the den and found who you’d been searching for. 

Your dad leapt up from the couch excitedly to wrap you in a big hug. “Hi honey,” he said. Then, low enough for only the two of you to hear, “You should have turned around when you had the chance.”

“Yeah, well, this idiot,” you affectionately gestured to Curtis, “really wanted to meet my family.”

Your dad shook his head with a chuckle, “Rookie mistake,” he said, then pulled Curtis into an equally big hug. It’d never not make you so warm inside, just how much your dad loved Curtis. 

Once he’d been let go, Curtis just sort of gaped at the two of you sheepishly. “I’m not sure I knew what I was walking into,” he muttered. 

“Rookie mistake,” your dad said, again, before sitting back down. “Your mom is in the kitchen.”

You made your way there, finding her cooking away with Jan and the rest of her sisters. Just like your dad, she was thrilled to see Curtis. It made your heart swell.

A few of your aunts continued to make “good-natured” comments on what a surprise and relief it was that you’d finally brought someone. You nodded through it, barely listening, before tugging Curtis behind you to go find your grandma. 

He stopped you as soon as you were in the hallway. “Babe, do they not know you’re demi?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, no! Can you imagine? It’d take forever to explain it, and then when I was done, I’d just get a lot of ‘Isn’t that how everyone is?’ while still giving me all of this bullshit. It’d be a waste of breath.” Curtis did not look happy about that, so you grabbed his hand. “Hey, all of the people I actually care about know. That’s enough for me. These are just people I have to see once a year because of an accident of birth. They don’t get to know all of me.” He seemed to relax a little at that and you smiled. “All right, let’s go find Grandma. Get ready. She’s gonna say all sorts of shit that’s gonna make you really uncomfortable.”

Sure enough, the first thing your grandma said to Curtis was, “I’ve been praying a nice young man would come into her life. She’s been so lonely for so long.” You turned your head away as you rolled your eyes, hard. But luckily you looked back in time to see the shocked look on his face when she said she sure did hope she didn’t die before she got to see you get married. You tried so hard not to laugh, that you sent yourself into a coughing fit.

Extracting yourself with a chipper, “Ok, grandma! We’ll see you at dinner!” you took Curtis into the backyard to kill time before food.

Sitting on the decorative retaining wall, Curtis threaded his fingers through yours. “I can see why your sister doesn’t come to these things.”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed. “She has to deal with all that and go hungry. These people have no idea how to cook for a vegetarian. They put chicken broth in the mashed potatoes!”

He just stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re too nice to them.”

You took a step closer, fully in his space, and shrugged. “They just– They can’t conceive of a life experience outside of their own. They all got married in their early twenties and had kids right away. The traditional way works for them, so why wouldn’t it work for everyone else? They don’t really know what to do with someone with different priorities, different feelings, and attractions. It’s how it’s always been. I’m used to it. I mostly just think it’s funny now.”

He wrapped you in his arms so that you could feel his warmth in the crisp fall weather. “I hate that you’ve had to get used to this.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “You make things better,” you said softly. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

You stayed like that for several moments before your phone buzzed with a text from your dad, letting you know that dinner was ready. 

You both settled down at the far end of the table, about to start filling your plates when your heavily pregnant cousin Kat took the seat across from you. “Oh, sunovabitch,” you muttered under your breath, causing Curtis to look concerned. 

Before you could reassure him, Kat got both of your attention. “Oh my gosh, it’s been such a long time! I’m so glad you could come!” Then she turned to the man next to you. “And you must be Curtis! You’re all anyone can talk about. I’m Kat, her favorite cousin.” Before Curtis could respond, she continued. “So tell me, ‘cause I’m dying to know, how exactly did she get you here?”

Curtis looked at you, confused, then raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

“Well, she’s just never brought anyone before. Not ever. And then when she finally does, it’s someone who looks like you?? My theory is she hired you off of Craig’s List. That or blackmail.” And then she laughed, in that very specific way that was just friendly enough that she could claim she was only joking. You knew it well. She’d been doing it for over thirty years.

You felt Curtis stiffen next to you, One look at him told you he was itching to respond, his mouth beginning to open, but you knew Kat. You knew she was just getting started and whatever response would just feed into whatever she wanted. So you covered his hand with yours in what you hoped was a soothing manner to hopefully stop him.

You caught Kat’s eye and she smirked, but then it faltered when you matched it with one of your own. “Actually, Kat,” you said, so casually, “I also have something I’ve been wondering. Is it the pregnancy hormones that have made you so unpleasant or have you always been this way? Since I genuinely can’t remember the last time you weren’t pregnant, I thought I’d ask.”

She gaped at you for a moment, as you looked at her calmly, patiently waiting for an answer. You didn’t need to look at Curtis to know that he was trying to hide a grin. Across from you, Kat finally found her words, “How dare–”

“I’m sorry,” you cut her off, “was that invasive? Rude? I should probably mind my own damn business, huh?”

“I–” she started again, but you weren’t done yet.

“Someday, I hope you’ll figure out that there are so many ways to be happy, not just one prescribed path. And hopefully, you’ll find whatever you’re looking for on the path you’ve chosen.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then, quietly, her eyes a little wide, she said, “I have. I’m happy.” There was a note in her voice, you thought, that sounded a little like she was trying to convince herself as much as you.

“Good,” you nodded, decisively, “I’m glad. I’m happy too. I was happy before Curtis and I’m happy now.” Without waiting for a response, you turned fully to Curtis beside you. He was beaming at you, pride just oozing out of him, his eyes sparkling. You smiled too, the biggest since you’d gotten there. “Do you want some stuffing?” you asked him, completely shutting down the previous conversation. “Aunt Jan’s stuffing is really good.”

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

[sensitivegoblin]

I either need to vent or be taken n used sexually

[batcavescolony]

Why do people keep saying they want Agatha to adopt Billy or that Billy is a motherless child or that Agatha is Billy's new mom.... Y'all he says Rebecca is his mom, canonically in the show. Agatha isn't his mom.

[perilegs]

i miss horses

[clonerightsagenda]

Appreciate that Lucy avoids any overt romance plots by failing to pick up on any of it. Yes she moons over Lockwood for 5 books. No she does not process the implications of a ghost disguising itself as her to lead him to his death. She missed Holly having a crush on her and also missed Holly telling her about it. The skull keeps going *PS5 voice* 'leave your friends we don't need them' and her reaction is 👍 read 7:35pm while Lockwood gets one look at him and mentally speedruns the 'she likes bones' bit of Harrow the Ninth. Queen of dodging YA n-drangles by simply not perceiving them. Any number of additional characters could be hitting on her but how would we know? She doesn't.

[britneyshakespeare]

the fact that all grown up ran for five seasons is unaccountable

[noburden]

um shes also my beloved mutual

WHY AM I JUST NOW SEEING THIS

[kutyaharapas]

i dont think my brain can conceptualize love. or at least from the information i gather

[niallandtommo]

.

[makkie-is-screaming]

I should fucking kill myself