#i’m sick of my family cooking for four people instead of all five of us. there are five of us in the house and i already

[flippedorbit]

i think dropping out is in my best interest at this point

[emmedoesntdomath]

Pulitzer, to start with

you know, I feel like this was one of those moments where you side-eyed me and was like, “really, emme? really? you’ve got nothing? nothing at all?” until I admitted that I did, in fact, have headcanons for him. honestly, if that passive-aggressive-ness ain’t friendship, I don’t know what is. #friendshipislowkeybullyingandimhereforit #loveyousparkedblaze

so joseph pulitzer was obviously a real person. he was originally from hungary, and moved to the united states at age 17 as a recruit for the american civil war (“I was fighting in a WAR”). his family was wealthy, and his education consisted of mostly private tutors. when he immigrated, eventually ending up in st. louis, he brought none of that wealth, and didn’t speak even the smallest bit of english. he worked odd jobs, waited tables, and in his free time, studied. legend has it that while he was studying, he began making commentary about a nearby game of chess under his breath in german. unfortunately, the players spoke german. more fortunately, they took note of his intelligence, and offered him a job at a somewhat-prominent german daily newspaper. he accepted. 

four years later, joseph pulitzer had become a force to be reckoned with. he had successfully made a name for himself in the journalistic world, and bought his first newspaper in st. louis at 25. five years after that, he ventured to new york in search of a doctor for his health later than year, and ended up negotiating a deal for the new york world, which wasn’t doing well at the time. he was thirty. over the next decade, the world’s circulation grew to exceedingly great heights until it was the largest circulating paper in all of the united states. 

of course, these are just the highlights of his journalist career. I won’t go into detail about his political one. 

(…yeah. this man wasn’t someone you messed with. I have no idea why the newsies thought taking on him was a good idea, let alone how they won.)

and now for the fun stufffffffffff

he was the father of seven, yet katherine is the only kid mentioned in newsies??? and only the stage production??? my best guess about this is because she died at two, and so there’s not really much you could “get wrong” or offend people with (also, it reminds me of the using of philip and theodosia in hamilton, but that’s entirely besides the point). either way, what I’m saying the purpose of this was, regardless of the truth, is that THIS katherine also got sick young, but instead of passing away, she slowly got better through a very touch-and-go childhood. therefore, he’s ridiculously protective of her because that’s his daughter, dammit, and he’s not going to lose her now. 

something that I always noticed in livesies was how…american he was??? like, he brought up american football. I don’t know what’s more american than that. 

he just reminded me of every midwestern dad I’ve ever met, and I think that was somewhat intentional, so I’m rolling with it. I’m guessing the real joseph pulitzer was like this, too, so we can pretend it’s based in historical evidence. 

he goes out of his way to not act like an immigrant. this is pretty common, considering stereotypes, prejudice, and racism, but pulitzer was jewish, and very obviously so. this made his life that much more difficult, and it probably would have been easier to pretend that english was his first language and that he was as patriotic as they come. so he didn’t flaunt that he was an immigrant as well as a veteran, politician, and businessman. 

he would have never let his daughter become a journalist. or associate with someone like jack at all. just saying. 

I love how cutthroat they made him in the musical. realistically, he didn’t fight the newsies THAT much, but it’s really funny to me that this great business mogul was waging petty wars against literal children. 

he feels like he could be a surburban dad, flipping burgers and wearing a kiss the cook apron while his seven children run around in the backyard with a dog. I have no idea why. (someone draw that fanart for me PLEASE)

also, he named katherine after his wife, kate.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 543

My phone went off at dinner with my parents, it was a small ding that I thought came from my mother’s phone because the only person who messages me is Were-Ah and we don’t use iMessage to bother each other.

I checked my phone after dinner, to see it was the pharmacy saying they had fulfilled a prescription script that was now ready for pick up.

I am not currency sick, and I already had picked up my medicines for the trip in April.

There was only one prescription script this message could have been referring to. So, I put my phone back into my purse, grabbed my leftovers and bid my parents goodbye without mentioning anything about the alert.

Because the reality is, I still don’t know how to talk to my parents about this. Which may be a problem in April when I’m stuck in close quarters with them for four days and five nights. However, that is a future me problem.

The current problem was the growing anxiety as I made my way down to the pharmacy. 

Because six months ago, when I started journaling, I discovered I have attention issues. Some of the things I do or experience are not what most people experience. Most people don’t suddenly daydream in the middle of their day, or have a story plot that suddenly takes over their brain. The urge that felt like buzzing under my skin when I am struck with the need to write for three days straight is also not normal… nor is telling someone I am going to cook and then an hour or two (or three) later not having to cook.

The past six months of me reining in my life was me using every goddamn trick in the book to just get myself going. This meant going back to basics like I was in highschool, and making lists upon lists of things I need to get done in my day or week. This meant physical trackers instead of digital, because apparently I remember a lot more than writing it out. It meant building routines rather than habits, because it’s easier to remember when it’s a routine.

And while all of that made me a more functional adult, it didn’t remove some of the issues I was having. I’ve been very fortunate that I’m apparently an effective worker when my brain decides to behave itself, and constantly give off the impression to my co-workers that I have my shit together. The reality however is, I don’t. I seem responsive to my emails because my emails are their own distraction. 

A distraction I am now well aware about enough to remind myself constantly to not answer right away.

And that was the thing, a lot of my fellow administrators would find what I do to be extra work, because I reorganize every task and booking request I get into OneNote. Instead of just flagging my emails like everyone else. I don’t do that because I find it very overwhelming. And because I’ve always worked the way I am now living my life, with a lot of lists.

But like my lists at home, it’s still not a perfect solution, and there won’t ever be a perfect solution. There are things however, I can do to help, and one of those things is to get treatment.

So I sought treatment. I’ve been very fortunate to have a great family doctor who listens to me, I realize not everyone has that opportunity. This is why, even though I was hesitant when asked, do I want treatment, I said yes. Because the worst that can happen is that I decide this isn’t for me, but at least I tried. There are a lot of people out there who won’t get this chance, either because they lack healthcare, don’t have a good relationship with their doctor or where they live has stricter requirements than my location. Or all of the above.

It doesn’t make the anxiety I had earlier around starting something new any less though. Ah… I hate brain gremlins.

[tennessoui]

this is probably too many prompts lol but uhhh obikin: #6 meeting at a coffee shop au; #24 literally bumping into each other au; #40 exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (i'm a sucker for breaking up and getting back together again lol); #42 star-crossed lovers au; #48 meeting again at a high school reunion au

hi!! you probably forgot you sent this at all and I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. I'm pretty sure someone else already asked for 24, 40, and 42, so I wrote #6 instead! warnings for this one: bittersweet in that both anakin and obi-wan are sad, also the author is sad, also this takes place in the midwest in america (this is the first fic that is obviously set in america!!! wow!!)

6. Meeting At A Coffee Shop Diner AU (1.9k)

“Have a seat anywhere you want,” the hostess tells Obi-Wan without looking up from her phone.

Obi-Wan blinks and then looks around the deserted seating area. “Thank you, uh.” She’s not wearing a name tag.

“Angel’ll bring you the menu and take care of you, thanks for coming in,” she says, glancing up at him and then away.

Well then. Obi-Wan reminds himself that customer service isn’t everyone’s strong suit, that she might have had a rough day, that he’s here for the quick food on his way through town, that his ego isn’t fragile enough that he needs to be led to a table with a smile.

The restaurant is almost completely deserted. There’s two truckers eating their weight in bacon and eggs at the counter, and a family of four seated around a table, resolutely picking at their food instead of talking to each other. And then there’s Obi-Wan.

He chooses a booth by the window, one that overlooks the absolute nothingness of midwestern American scenery. If he cranes his neck, he can probably see corn.

God, Obi-Wan’s sick of seeing corn, and he’s only been in this part of the country for a few hours. He needs to go right through most of it to get where he’s headed. He’s not sure how he won’t die of boredom.

The thought sends a pang through his chest. It’s too soon to think of death even in an offhand way. He taps his fingers on the cover of his leather journal, before a line of dark brown under one of them catches his eye. He studies his hand critically.

It’s been two days since the funeral. Surely he wouldn’t still have grave dirt under his nails. Surely things like that wash away eventually.

“Hey,” a voice says from in front of him. A man is turned around and kneeling up in the booth in front of Obi-Wan’s, leaning over the garishly red vinyl of the empty seat with a menu clutched in one hand. His hair is short and dark blond, an undercut with a long fringe settling over his forehead. He has a nice sort of smile, one that looks genuine but doesn’t touch his eyes. Obi-Wan notices how long the man’s neck is and how predominant his collarbones appear in the loose white shirt he’s wearing, before he forces himself to focus only on his face. “I’m Angel,” the guy says, passing over the menu. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Obi-Wan accepts it gingerly. It looks like something that’s perpetually sticky. “Water is fine,” he says politely. “Thank you.”

“Will do,” Angel salutes him and ambles away. Obi-Wan watches him go before shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of thought, and opening the menu.

It’s standard food fare, of course. Breakfast options served all day if anyone were to come in and request them. Lunch and dinner options are also served all day, probably for the same reason: a diner like this can’t afford to turn anyone away, even if they want a hamburger at nine in the morning.

A glass of water clinks down onto the table next to him, making him look up at Angel, who’s looking at him curiously.

“You ready to order?” he asks, even though Obi-Wan is still very much looking at the menu and it’s also only been a few minutes at most since Angel gave it to him in the first place.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Obi-Wan asks politely. “I’ve never been here before. What’s good?”

“The water,” Angel says and then laughs like he’s said something funny. Obi-Wan finds his own mouth curling up at the sound. Sometimes people’s laughter is contagious, like a yawn.

And then Angel says, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “North of Boston.”

Angel whistles, like Obi-Wan has said something impressive. “Boston, huh? What are you doing all the way out here?”

The pit in his stomach intensifies. He does his best not to look at his nails and the grave dirt that might still be under them. “Driving,” he finally says. “And are you...from around here?”

Angel’s eyes grow distant for a second, and when he focuses again on Obi-Wan, they’re cold. “Born and raised,” he tells him flatly. “Never got out.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to do with the sort of bitterness in Angel’s tone. It complements his own well enough.

“If you like eggs, I’ll put you in for the house special omelette,” Angel declares suddenly, all business again. “It’s four eggs, tomatoes, peppers, cheese. The usual.”

“What makes it special?” Obi-Wan asks, closing his menu and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“For you?” Angel drawls, “I’ll watch the cook to make sure he doesn’t get any egg shells in it,” and then he winks, holding out his hand.

Naturally, Obi-Wan shakes it. Naturally, Obi-Wan realizes a second after feeling Angel’s warm, calloused rough palm against his own that the man had meant to take the menu from Obi-Wan.

He can’t remember the last time he’s blushed this red, but he is absolutely regretting everything about this road trip. God, he’d pay money just to be able to leave now.

He should get in his car and drive back to Boston. It had been a stupid idea to come out here anyway, a result of stir-craziness and a desire to outrun the death of his father.

And now look what he’s doing. Shaking hands with his handsome waiter, as if he isn’t thirty-nine and perfectly aware of social norms.

Thankfully, miraculously, Angel laughs and this time it sounds real. “It’s okay,” he tells him, reaching out to pick up the menu.

Luckily for everyone involved, Obi-Wan finds it very easy to laugh at himself. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Angel, I’m Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll go put the order in,” Angel says, “Obi-Wan.”

He’s back within five minutes, sliding into the seat across from Obi-Wan. So much for no eggshells in his omelette, but he can’t bring himself to be disappointed. There’s something magnetically fascinating about Angel. He’d like to know more.

“So you’re driving?” Angel asks, picking up a thread of conversation from several minutes ago. “Where are you going?”

“I was thinking of Alaska,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve--I’ve always wanted to go.”

“You’re driving from Boston to Alaska?” Angel whistles, raising his eyebrows in shock. “I think the gas money alone would cost me two months of work.”

Obi-Wan shrugs. It’s not like he makes much himself as a teacher in Massachusetts. “My father was a lifelong gambler,” he discloses without really knowing why he’s telling this to a stranger. “He came into a bit of luck near the end. A bit of a fortune as well. And when he...died, I inherited it and his house.”

Angel touches his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “When did he pass?”

Obi-Wan huffs out what might be a chuckle. “A week ago, actually. It’s summer break in Massachusetts--I’m a teacher--and I suddenly had nothing to stay for, for a bit. It was either leave for Alaska or find some other way to cope.”

He runs a hand--his free hand, the one Angel isn’t touching--over his beard as he gives the man a rueful smile. “Dad always wanted me to see more of the world.”

“My mom was the same way,” Angel leans forward to tell him, as if it’s a secret. Obi-Wan feels like it is a secret, that there’s something delicate and fragile in the air. Something that matches whatever emotion is filling up Angel’s eyes. “Always telling me to leave, go get famous, go get happy, come back and tell her about it.”

“You didn’t?” Obi-Wan asks, his chest tightening at the thought that the man before him could be unhappy.

“I couldn’t,” Angel sneers, looking out the window and propping his chin on his hand. Some things must be too close to the heart to tell someone to their face. “Mom got sick. I wanted to get out, I was so close. Graduated high school, packed my stuff. I was going to go to California. To Los Angeles, really make it big.” He rolls his eyes and scoffs, as if there’s something inherently funny about the dreams he must have cherished for so long.

“Then mom collapsed going down the stairs. Just passed out in the middle of the day. Doctors told us she was sick. Then life became all about treatment plans and monitoring symptoms and getting the money for the medicines and I never left. Got a job here when I was eighteen years old, right before I graduated high school. It’s all I’ve ever known, I guess.”

“And your mother?” Obi-Wan asks, mouth dry and heart all tangled up in itself for this stranger man, for Angel with the hard, sad eyes.

“Died a year and a half ago or so,” Angel says flatly like he’s repeated the words so often in his head that the truth digs no barbs into his flesh. Obi-Wan knows that voice is a lie. How often has he looked in the mirror this past week and told himself, ‘Qui-Gon Jinn is dead’? He can’t imagine a year and a half would make the pain go away.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says seriously, reaching across the table to touch Angel’s hand this time.

Angel shrugs but doesn’t pull away. “Is what it is, I guess,” he says. “I’ve made my peace with it. And the fact that I’ll never leave this godforsaken town.”

“You could,” Obi-Wan points out hesitantly. “You could leave tomorrow.”

For a second, a wild and previously undiscovered part of Obi-Wan wonders what it would be like, if Angel did leave tomorrow--with him. If they got into the same car and headed to Alaska together and Obi-Wan wasn’t alone at the wheel and Angel wasn’t alone in this town. If Obi-Wan could look over at the man in the passenger seat, asleep against the doorway as they crossed into Canada.

Obi-Wan wonders. Obi-Wan aches.

“I could,” Angel says, laughing once. “I guess I could. I guess I just can’t think of a good enough reason to.”

There’s a call of his name from the kitchen, and Angel stands and stretches, checking the time on his watch. “That’ll be your omelette, sir, which is perfect timing considering I’m off shift as of five minutes ago.”

“Thank you then,” Obi-Wan replies, ignoring the pang in his gut at the knowledge he won’t be able to keep talking to him. “It was nice meeting you, Angel.”

Angel’s face grows dark for a second as his jaw clenches. “That’s not my name,” he finally says, scratching at his neck with one hand. “That’s just what they called me when I started working here. Angel, like Los Angeles. Cause I told everyone for weeks this was a temporary thing, you know? I’d be going to California soon as mom got better. Guess they knew better than I did.”

Obi-Wan has never wanted to kidnap a grown man away from a place more, so he hides his hands under the table instead. “Would you tell me your name then?” he asks, wondering if he’s overstepping but needing to know too much to censor himself.

“It’s Anakin,” his waiter says, sticking his hand out, no menu to grab.

Obi-Wan takes it gently, turns it over, and cradles it between both of his hands. “Then it’s nice to meet you, Anakin.”

Maybe, he thinks as he picks at his omelette and watches Anakin shoulder his way through the front doors of the diner before disappearing down the street, maybe he can stay a day in this nowhere town. Just an extra day.

Yes, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. He’ll try the pancakes next.

[ravensbug]

what was kuvira and y/n’s wedding like?

Wedding

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Kuvira x reader

Request: Yes

Prompt: No

Word Count: 5,477

A/N: Anon you are fueling the fluff train. Keep the ideas coming. Did I combine the cat au with this one, absolutely. It makes it so much better. You’re in for a treat my friend.

Summary: You’re finally getting married. After everything that’s happened to Kuvira she still can’t believe it. But here she is planning the wedding, with Su no less. She wants it to be perfect. The day of the wedding is stressful for you both. It feels like anything could go wrong but it doesn’t. You two are finally together.

No one would have expected Kuvira to be the one planning the wedding. Everyone knew you had the mind for these things. After all, you were a designer. But when Kuvira told you she wanted to do this you let her. You also knew that Su wanted to help, so you stayed out of her way.

Kuvira didn’t keep you out of the loop though. She knew you were curious, but you always had to ask her to show you. She felt like you would always tell her to pick something else. But you didn’t. You liked what she chose, it fit both of you so well. You had to admit you did underestimate Kuvira’s ability to plan the wedding. Su must have helped a lot, but you wouldn’t sell Kuvira short.

You were in charge of the invites. You knew that you were going to invite most of your family, which Kuvira was fine with. You had a few friends you wanted to invite that made her nervous, but you made sure she had no need to worry.  The only people Kuvira invited were the Beifongs. It did surprise you, especially since Jr. was on the list. You knew she had worked things out with him, but you still disliked him.

When you had finished all the invites there were around fifty. You felt kind of bad for how big your family was. You weren’t sure how they would handle Kuvira, or how she would handle them. You had hope that it would be fine, but you could never know.

You were so glad to be done for the day. Planning a wedding was way more stressful than your family made it out to be. You didn’t have all of them to help, so that was probably why. But you knew they would have overwhelmed you.

You heard the door open and leaned over to see it was Kuvira. Almost immediately after Jinx hopped off of the couch to greet her. You smile when you can hear her saying something to the cat before she picks Jinx up.

“I hope she’s not the only one who missed me,” Kuvira smiled. She walked over to you and leaned over to give you a kiss.

“Of course not. Any time without you is too long.” You got up from the desk so you could finally relax.

“I brought some things home for dinner,” Kuvira told you as you gathered all the invitations together.

“What did you get tonight?” you asked curiously. You left the invitations on the table, or else they would get lost.

“I got some crab to make crab puffs. I can make some soup to go with it too,” she told you.

“Where in spirit name did you get crab this time of year?” You came into the kitchen.

“Oh, you know, a certain village that has the best crab fishers in the world.” She was referring to your home town. She wasn’t wrong though. 

“You spoil me,” you teased. “Do you even know how to make crab puffs? I’ve never seen you try.”

“Actually, I don’t. I was hoping you’d be willing to help me make dinner tonight?” she asked. It was so sincere and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course I would.” You give her a quick kiss before helping her get everything ready.

It had been a few years since you had made crab puffs. The last time was before you left home to join Kuvira to unite the Earth Kingdom. Your family never fully understood why you left and you never had the proper opportunity to tell them why. It’s not that you didn’t love them, but they were always so overwhelming to you. Even without siblings, you had all these cousins running around and dragging you everywhere.

You knew now with your own space you’ve grown into your own person. You’re more outgoing and there are no more days where you mentally and physically exhausted unless you’re sick. Kuvira would be lying if she said she didn’t notice how different you were from when you two first met. She wouldn’t change it for the world though.

You both moved in sync with each other, grabbing what you needed from either the cabinets or each other. You got the saucepan and poured some oil in it. You turn on the burner and place the pan down to let the oil heat up. You move to the counter and you gather the crab meat, cream cheese, and whatever spices you decide to add it. You made the decision to add some Cayenne Pepper powder, which is what your family liked to use instead of garlic. It sounds weird to anyone outside your family, but you all loved it. You wondered if it would be a surprise to Kuvira.

While you were making the crab mixture Kuvira was busy cutting up some vegetables and leftover meat for whatever soup she was making. You’d had so many over the five years you had been living together that you learned to expect something different every night.

“Which one are you making this time?” You didn’t need to turn to ask her.

“Just a simple Miso soup,” she answered. You knew that Miso soup was never simple in her eyes. With all the extravagant meals the chef cooked at the Beifong estate you completely understood why she liked it. It was simple, but also unique to each person who made it. It was never made the same way twice so she never got tired of it.

Once you finished mixing the crab meat you grabbed the wonton wrappers to place the crab meat in. You were glad that Kuvira had grabbed all the correct ingredients. You managed to make twelve of the crab puffs and put them in the oil to cook four at a time. When they were done you plated them and set the plate on the table. You looked over to Kuvira, who was already filling two bowls with soup.

You grabbed a bottle of sake and poured half a glass for both of you. Another thing you learned, Kuvira didn’t have a high alcohol tolerance despite the fact that Su would serve wine to those who could drink it for dinner. It surprised you when you learned she was a lightweight, but that just made things more fun.

She handed you your bowl of soup and a spoon so you can sit down and start eating. She joins you shortly after so you’re together. Most of the time you two eat in silence, you don’t need to talk now. There would be plenty of that after dinner.

“I hope you like them,” you smile when you see Kuvira reach for one of the crab puffs. You decide to leave out the information about the Cayenne pepper, for now. You waited to see her reaction, if she did have one, but she didn’t.

“You added Cayenne pepper didn’t you?” You were honestly shocked.

“How did you know?” you asked.

“I’ve learned my spices from the chef at the estate and I happened to bump into someone who told me it was a good spice to add,” Kuvira told you with a smirk.

“So you’ve met someone in my family then,” you confirmed.

“I guess I did. I suppose you won’t tell me who though.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Even if you did describe them I still probably wouldn’t know. I have way too many cousins to keep them all straight.” You got her to laugh a little.

“It’s true!” you pouted.

“I never said I didn’t believe you,” she laughed more.

You two finished your dinner shortly after. Both of you had finished the crab puffs and you each had more than one bowl of soup. Kuvira stored the remaining soup for another day, whenever you two weren’t together to eat.  She noticed you had left a piece of crab out and knew exactly who it was for.

Jinx was laying down somewhere else in the apartment, but when she heard her food bowl get filled she came trotting into the kitchen. Kuvira placed the piece of crab on top of the food, knowing Jinx would dig it out anyway.

You two cleaned the rest of the kitchen up while Jinx ate. It was nice, even though you never liked cleaning up after a meal. Right now it keeps your mind off of all the wedding thoughts.

When you two finish you both retire to the bedroom, tired after all the day's events. Kuvira more so than you. She’s been walking all day while talking with Su. She beats you sitting and writing invites for the most exhausting task.

You pick up the book from your nightstand and open it to where you had left off. In your absentmindedness, you had begun twirling the metal bookmark in the air. A habit you had to keep yourself distracted from even thinking about what happened during the day. Also something Kuvira has learned over the years. You only realize you’re doing it when you see her grab it from the air and place it back in the book. She knows you weren’t really paying attention to the story anyway.

“What’s bothering you?” her voice is full of concern. She could make an endless list of things that she thought could be wrong and not voice a single one of them. 

“My family I guess. Not in a bad way, but I’m worried about what they’ll think of you. They can get to be a lot pretty quickly,” you explained.

“I survived Opal and the twins. I’m sure your family isn’t nearly as bad as them,” Kuvira tried to make you feel better. It works a little, considering all the stories she’s told you of the three of them and the chaos they caused her.

“I just don’t want them to overwhelm you like they do with me,” you worded your frustration differently.

“I’ll be fine. Plus I can always find excuses to go back to you if they do become too much,” she reassured you.

“Y/N I love you. You know that right?” she asked in a more serious tone.

“Of course I do. We wouldn’t be getting married if you didn’t,” you joked.

“Well, then you should know that the way your family is won’t affect anything between us.” She placed her hand on your cheek to turn your head towards her.

“I know…” you sighed. Words were being frustrating at now of all times.

“It’s ok to be worried. You don’t think I am?” She asked.

“I have to deal with Su pestering me over every decision I make, not that it's abnormal for her to do,” Kuvira sighed.

“I can’t even imagine what she’s like right now,” you try not to laugh.

“Spirits, she is so detail orientated. Every little thing has to match. She keeps trying to change the flowers I chose but I won’t let her,” she complains.

“Oh, why’s that?” you ask. You had a feeling it was a more personal reason than just her own preference.

“She says they don’t match as well as some others will, but I chose your favorite. I don’t want to change that.” She looks away and you can see the blush on her face. You finally place the book back on your nightstand and roll back over to snuggle into Kuvira.

“I love you, Vira,” you smile. You feel her wrap her arms around you to keep you close. The bed dips a bit at the bottom, telling you that Jinx has hopped up on the bed. It was a nice ending to a stressful day even though there would be more stress to come.

*******************

It was the day of the wedding and you couldn’t be more nervous. Kuvira had gone to the Beifong estate, per Su’s request, to get ready. You were getting ready in your apartment, with the assistance of your mother and Bolin of all people. He refuses to not help because you’re his ‘best friend and that’s what friends do!’ Bolin was also good at keeping you calm.

“Bolin the shawl is fine!” you told him as he corrected it for the fourth time. Your mom was a little skeptical about Bolin when he came to help, but you assured her he was fine. He was fine, but right now he was being a little excessive.

“Now it is! Y/N you have to look your best today! I’ll accept nothing less,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Bolin,” you smiled. “You can go join the rest of the gang if you want to. There isn’t really anything else to do.”

“Well, then I’ll see you at the wedding. Don’t be late!” he joked as he left your apartment. That left you and your mom alone and for once it was nice. You hadn’t really spent time with individual members of your family, because everyone was always home. It was different, but you needed it still.

“How’s my little cherry blossom doing?” She stood in front of you. She was a few inches shorter than you, but refused to stop calling you that. It always made you blush, but you never asked her to stop. The nickname was a part of your unique connection with her compared to the rest of your family. She was the only one who could call you that.

“I’m great mom,” you smiled. There was underlying nervousness and excitement, but you did your best to keep that at bay.

“I know it’s late to ask you this, but does she make you happy?” she asked you with genuine concern. It had been a long time since she had last seen Kuvira. The last time was before you left to join her. Of course your mom was concerned. You knew she was worried about the person Kuvira had become during those three years.

“Mom, of course she does. It may not have always been perfect between the two of us, but we’ve come a long way since then.” She didn’t truly understand how, but she wasn’t going to try and change your mind. You were stubborn to a fault once you decided on something, much like your father.

You and your mother left your house with enough time to get to the wedding venue. You made sure to say goodbye to Jinx before you left just so she knew you loved her. Su, being Su, had chosen one of the open spaces of the Beifong estate. She asked you specifically about this to make sure it didn’t make you uncomfortable.

Your father was waiting for you both outside of the seating area. He was wearing a suit and you were surprised. He never wears fancy clothes unless your mother forces him to.

“Did mom make you wear the suit?” you asked as your father hugged you.

“Only the jacket and bowtie,” he smiled.

“Are you ready?” Your father asked after your mother had left to go sit down.

“Are you ready dad?” you asked. He wasn’t a man of many emotions, but the ones he had were strong. You could see the tears he was trying to fight and gave him a smile.

“Yes, and I couldn’t be more proud.” he smiled.

You two walked down the aisle and the music started to play. Nothing fancy, probably Kuvira’s doing, but it was still nice. The people seated began to quiet down and turned towards you and your father. Kuvira was talking to Opal about something before she heard the music and looked over to you. The adoration on her face was unmatched, even by your father. You both had waited and suffered through too much for this to feel real.

When you finally joined her your heart was racing. Yes, you both had practiced this before, but it was for real this time. You didn’t want to mess up now. You couldn’t mess up now.

“Please join hands,” the minister asks you both. You hold your hands out and Kuvira takes them. You can feel her usual steadiness is gone, replaced with the nervousness that you both feel.

"I ask you each now, to repeat the marriage vows." The minister looks at you both.

“I, Kuvira take you, Y/N for my wedded wife, To love and cherish, For better or worse, for richer or poorer, In sickness and in health. From this day forward.” Kuvira did her best to keep her emotions in check. You saw through the usual stoic expression she gave.

“I, Y/N take you, Kuvira for my wedded wife, To love and cherish, For better or worse, for richer or poorer, In sickness and in health. From this day forward.” You of course didn’t even try to hold back the smile that appeared on your face.

The minister grabs the rings from where they were placed after Naga brought them in. Kuvira thought it was completely unnecessary to have the Polar bear-dog bring the rings, but both you and Korra asked her every day for almost a week.

“May the Spirits bless these rings which you give to each other as your sign of Love, Devotion, and everlasting peace.” The minister held the rings up before handing both of you each other's rings.

“As you place this ring on your partner's finger I ask that you repeat these words.”

“This ring is my sacred gift to you, A symbol of my Love, A sign that from this day forward and always, My Love will surround you, With this ring, I thee wed,” he spoke the words. You both repeated him as you put the rings on each other’s fingers.

“For as much as Kuvira and Y/N have consented together in matrimony and have witnessed the same before the spirits and those present, and have pledged their faithfulness, each to the other, and have declared their love by giving and receiving rings and by joining hands, I now, by the authority committed unto me as a minister and a priest, declare that Kuvira and Y/N are wifes according to the ordinance of the spirits. Those whom the spirits have joined together, let no one put asunder.” The minister went through his required lines. You were beginning to become impatient, just wanting this to be official.

“May the peace and the unconditional love of the spirits surround you and remain with you,” he smiled.

“You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

You practically jumped on Kuvira. There were things about this kiss that felt the same, the feeling of her smiling as you kissed, the warmth it gave you. But there was the one big difference: this meant you two were married now. You never want to forget this moment.

Did you two kiss until you ran out of breath? Definitely. Neither of you minded and you didn’t pay attention to the raised eyebrows and smirks of others.

“Allow me to present Mrs. and Mrs. Beifong.” You both turned to everyone. You see your family all smiling at you, for once not being overwhelming. You see Su, Baatar, and the other Beifong kids smiling. Jr. looks a little upset, but that was a fact you knew.

You notice an older couple, around Su and Baatar’s age, sitting farther in the back. You don’t recognize their faces and you wonder who they are. You think back on the invitations and how you weren’t the one to send them out. You only wrote them, well almost all of them. An idea in the back of your mind made it’s home there, waiting for a better opportunity for you to ask Kuvira who exactly those two were.

The reception was much more familiar to your home life than the wedding was. The kids were chaotic as usual and there were the teens assigned to hunt them down. You missed this a little more than you cared to admit.

Catching up with family members was nice, most of them kept the conversations short so you wouldn’t get bored. You’d probably talked to half the people there by the time you decided to take a seat for a while. Even after years of not dealing with them, your family was still draining.

“Taking a break?” Kuvira had walked over to you after talking with your father about something. They got along surprisingly well and you were glad.

“Yeah. Already overwhelmed again,” you sighed.

“If you weren’t so keen on catching up with everyone as fast as possible, maybe you wouldn’t be so tired.” Kuvira raised an eyebrow. She sipped some of the wine in the glass she held when she saw you give her a mildly offended look.

“Yes, I know you’re far more social than I am,” she rolled her eyes. “But you really don’t have to do it so fast.”

“Habits I guess,” you shrugged. She grabbed your hand that was resting on the table and gently squeezed. It was the silent ‘I love you’ that she’s been giving you in the past few years. You give her a smile in return and she walks off to go talk with someone else. You watch as she walks over to the twins, who both give her a playful punch on the arm. The only two who could ever keep up with her in your opinion.

After she walked off you caught a glance of the older couple once again. They were sitting down and talking to each other. They looked happy, not as happy as everyone else, but simply content with where they were. You finished the glass of wine you had in your hand to help with whatever nerves you had. You were going to talk to them, learn who they were.

You were stopped by only a few family members while walking over to the couple. You kept those conversations short as well, but you took Kuvira’s advice and slowed yourself down. To your surprise, it actually helped you. You would have to thank her later for that.

You finally made it to the couple and they took notice of you right away. You felt a little awkward so you introduced yourself.

“I’m Y/N. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” You held out your hand. The man took it and gave you a firm handshake. His wife, you assumed, just nodded at you.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ruong and this is my wife Keeva.” Ruong introduced himself and his wife.

“It seems like you two go well together,” Keeva pointed out. You could see she wasn’t looking at you, but over your shoulder. You guessed she was looking at Kuvira based on her statement.

“There have been a few ups and downs, but she’s amazing. A lot has happened since we got together. I don’t know how we would have handled it if we weren’t together,” you smiled. Keeva clearly liked you more than Ruong did. You could tell there was some disdain in his look.

“I don’t mean to be invasive with this question, but because I don’t recognize you, you have to be here for Kuvira don’t you?” you asked. Keeva gave you a small nod.

“We are…” Keeva answered. You could tell she wanted to say more. You weren’t sure why she didn’t. You struck a more casual conversation with them to ease whatever tension that had created. You knew they were Kuvira’s parents, they didn’t need to say it.

Kuvira had seen you leave your chair after she was done talking and messing around, a little, with the twins. She looked around for you amongst your family and when she did see you, in the obvious white dress, the feeling of dread crept up on her. She knew where you had gone and wasn’t ready for you to have done that yet.

She grabbed another glass of wine and downed it quickly, numbing her nerves so she could get the inevitable over and done with. She weaved through the crowds to where she knew her parents were sitting. When she saw you standing there with them, laughing and having a good time she was shocked.

She came up next to you and only startled you a bit. You smiled at her and she gave a faint smile back.

“Vira, I was just having a nice conversation with your parents,” you told her. She froze still because you knew. She didn’t blame you and your curiosity, but she wanted this whole interaction to be on her own terms.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” she asked you. You understood now that talking to them on your own wasn’t what Kuvira wanted to happen. You heard the strain and hesitation in her voice.

“Of course.” You stood up and followed her. About halfway through her taking you somewhere to talk you took her hand. A reassuring gesture that you knew she needed right now. When you two got somewhere more quiet she stopped and turned to you. The look of uncertainty on her face was something you haven’t seen since she surrendered at Republic City.

“Hey, what’s wrong.” You placed your hand on her cheek.

“You mean other than the obvious?” She snapped at you.

“Vira, I didn’t know how you wanted me to meet them and I didn’t even know they were coming. I got a little curious.” It was sort of an apology and an explanation at the same time.

“I know, I just wanted to be there. My father can be a bit...harsh at times,” she sighed.

“Yeah, I think I got that. He doesn’t like jokes very much. Your mom seems to find me very funny,” you give her a small smile. She can’t help but laugh at that fact. Of course that’s how you interact with them.

“I wanted to be there with you when you met them.” You figured that when she dragged you off.

“I’m sorry.” You gave her a kiss, trying to make up for the panic you had caused her.

“No, it’s ok. I’m glad you met them. I honestly couldn’t have stopped you from doing that anyway,” she smiles.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” you smirk.

“We should go back, I’m sure the music will start playing soon if my mother has anything to say about it.” You rolled your eyes at the thought and heard Kuvira let out a chuckle. You two had never really danced together that often. You were too embarrassed by your dancing skills, or lack thereof. You had some practice, but you felt like a clutz compared to Kuvira. She would always compliment you, which just made you blush and then mess up. 

When you two got back there was already music playing. There were a few people dancing, either couples or adults and kids. You looked over to Kuvira who smiled. She knew that this wasn’t the time to dance yet.

You had a plan for the dancing. You wanted at least a song or two to dance with her, one with your father of course, and then your song. Kuvira had no idea about your song, or that you were going to be singing in general. It was your big surprise for her.

She stayed close to you throughout the first song. You knew she was going to ask you to dance for the next song, you could see it on her face. That tiny smirk whenever she would look over at you.

The song ended and changed to a slower one. A favorite of yours and your father. He walked over to you and took your hand. You were thankful that your father wasn’t a skillful dancer like Kuvira, because he would have embarrassed you with it.

The dance was slower than the last. There was a feeling of peace surrounding you, that whatever stress accumulated throughout the day practically vanished altogether.

You looked over to Kuvira and saw her father walking over to her. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face and she was slightly confused by it. You indirectly watched their interaction, how her father didn’t look confident at all. Reminded you a lot of her trying to dance with you for the first time.

Your father looked at you with a raised eyebrow since he saw that Kuvira had actually accepted her father’s request to dance. You only smiled and shrugged. You didn’t have time to explain it to him and you knew he would ask them questions if you couldn’t answer them.

When you caught a glimpse of them together it was the first time you had seen Kuvira smile with her father. Granted she might have before, but you don’t really know. You would say this night couldn’t get any better, but there was one thing that could and you just had to wait a bit.

The song came to an end and you gave your father a tight hug and you both went to sit down for a bit. You watched Kuvira and her father have a short conversation before she came to sit next to you. You couldn’t tell what emotion she was feeling because there was too much to read on her face.

“Hey, you ok?” You grabbed her hand gently. You must have brought her out of her own thoughts because you felt her hand tense in response.

“What? Oh, yes I’m fine.” she still seemed out of it.

“You sure?” You didn’t want to press for details, but you weren’t going to just leave this be.

“For once I am.” You saw the content smile, that she’s rarely shown to anyone, appear on her face. You guessed her father had said something and you thanked the spirits that it wasn’t something bad.

“Good, there’s one more thing happening tonight that I think you’ll like,” you gave her a sly grin.

“Oh, and what’s that?” she raised an eyebrow.

“You can wait to find out.” You kissed her on the cheek before getting up. You heard her try and say something, but she was fumbling with her words.

You walked over to the band, already feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You had only told Su about what you wanted to do, knowing Kuvira wasn’t good with picking music. You looked over to Su and the smile she gave you made you more confident about what you were going to do.

The band knew what you wanted to do. They had music for this. The singer simply handed you the microphone and gave you a thumbs up. The band started with a soft, but upbeat sound. Setting you up for when you would come in. You took a deep break and turned around to start singing.

Some day, when I'm awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight

Everyone had stopped talking when you started singing. It made your heart beat even faster knowing that, but you focused on Kuvira. This was your song for her. You wanted to know how she felt about it.

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight

You motioned for people to start dancing. It would help with your nerves and it was meant to be danced to as well.

With each word your tenderness grows

Tearin' my fear apart

And that laugh, wrinkles your nose

Touches my foolish heart

Your parents were the first to start dancing. Thankfully that encouraged others to join in. You even saw Kuvira’s parents join in. You were mildly surprised by that.

Lovely, never, never change

Keep that breathless charm

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you

Just the way you look tonight

You watched Kuvira get up and walk over to you. You were smiling while singing and she gave you that content smile that she had before. She held out her hand and you gladly took it. You knew you weren’t great at dancing, but right now you were focusing on singing. Kuvira didn’t mind either of those things.

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose

It touches my foolish heart

Lovely, don't you ever change

Keep that breathless charm

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you

Just the way you look tonight

You took the microphone away from your face and leaned into Kuvira, singing the last part just for her.

Mm, mm, mm, mm,

Just the way you look tonight

Everyone was clapping for you because of how beautiful the song was. You were too busy kissing Kuvira to be embarrassed about that. Now you could really say tonight couldn’t get any better.

[ibijau]

11 with chengxuan please? i hc that jc has a really nice singing voice

Singing together/catching them singing softly to themselves as they cook/do the dishes.

a prequel of this modern AU where Yanli and Wei Wuxian are missing after an accident that left Jin Zixuan disabled

warning for internalised ableism, and also just general ableism mentions

When Jin Ling is five, Zixuan starts working again.

It is not his choice, though he easily convinces himself that it is. His mother is right after all, he can’t go on forever staying at home doing nothing. Sure he’s taking care of Jin Ling, and still dealing with the aftermath of that day, but he can’t do just that, not when he’s clearly well enough to try doing more. His mother doesn’t want him to become a recluse, and she doesn’t want him to get completely out of touch with his father’s company… and she’s right of course.

It’s easier for everyone when she’s right.

Zixuan’s father is a little less enthusiastic about easing his son back into the family business. As he bluntly explains, there’s just not much that Zixuan can do. Going back to his old job isn’t an option. The accounting department, which Zixuan used to be in charge of, has now been given to Meng Yao who is doing very well there, helping the company make a steady profit. Not only that, but Jin Guangshan explains to his son that Meng Yao has uncovered an embezzlement plot that Zixuan apparently accidentally allowed to fester. Wen Ning has been arrested for stealing money in favour of his sister’s charity, and Jin Guangshan explains he had to use all of his influence to protect Zixuan from being dragged into this.

After something like this, it’s obvious Zixuan can no longer be trusted to lead a team. It’s also better if he doesn’t handle anything to do with finances anymore, because their company just cannot bear with another scandal.

Instead, Zixuan is offered a quick formation in web design, and incorporated into the IT team, just another worker among others. It’s work he can do from home, and he’s never met most of his colleagues. None of them seem to realise that he is the son of their employer, and apparently assume the surname Jin is just a coincidence. During a phone reunion, Zixuan hears someone talk about Jin Guangshan’s son who died some years ago, and doesn’t bother to correct it.

His mother can push all she wants, it’s clear Zixuan isn’t going to inherit the company. 

It bothers him less than he should. On the rare days when he still hopes that Yanli will return to him, Zixuan tells himself that they can drop everything and start a new life somewhere quiet. Just him, his wife, his son… and his brother-in-law, if Jiang Cheng feels like it. After those last few years, Zixuan can’t quite imagine living without him, and he knows Jin Ling wouldn’t want to either. Jiang Cheng has been there for all his life after all, and theirs is not the worst of lives.

Which isn’t to say that it’s always easy.

Some days are too much for Zixuan.

Today is such a day. His pain is flaring up like crazy, making it agony to sit for long. Jin Ling is in a bad mood, and determined to make it felt. And three urgent projects have been dropped on Zixuan’s hands, to be finished before the end of the week.

What Zixuan wants is to drop his son with Jiang Cheng, take all the painkillers he’s allowed, and sleep for about three or four days until he’s better. It’s not an option, of course. He can’t let down everyone, those projects are important, his mother will be furious if she hears that he’s using his health as an excuse to be lazy, his father will take it as more proof that he can’t be trusted with anything. He has to pull through, pain or not.

People with worse health than him can do their job, he can’t use disability as an excuse.

So Zixuan pushes himself, sitting in front of his laptop until the pain gets so intense he’s starting to see dark spots at the corner of his eyes. He has to do this, has to…

“I think you’ve been stupid long enough,” he hears Jiang Cheng says, surprisingly close to him.

Zixuan startles and looks up, grimacing as the movement pulls on too tight muscles. Jiang Cheng is glaring down at him, apparently more upset than usual.

“You can’t work like that,” Jiang Cheng snaps, dropping a glass of water and a pill next to the laptop. “Take that and go rest.”

“I have to…”

“You have to fucking take care of yourself. You look like you’re about to have a seizure or something. Take that painkiller and sleep before you make yourself worse.”

Zixuan blinks numbly. The medication he takes mostly helps prevent seizures, but it cannot fully eliminate them. He’s been having them more often since he started working again, and has told himself it’s only a coincidence.

“I’m fine,” Zixuan weakly protests. “I’m almost done with this, and then I’ll…”

“Don’t make me pick you up,” Jiang Cheng warns. “I’ll do it. I’ll fucking carry you to bed in my arms, I swear.”

“I’m really…”

“I’ll text Luo Qingyang and tell her you’re sick,” Jiang Cheng cuts him. “She’ll understand, and she’ll deal with this. So take the damn pill and go rest, Zixuan.”

It feels unfair that Luo Qingyang from HR should have to take care of Zixuan’s messes, just because he can’t pull through on single bad day… but the pain really is awful, and it might have been more than one single bad day. Su Minshan from research has been absolutely awful all month about the launch of a new website to showcase their innovations, and since he has Meng Yao’s full support, it’s been hard to deal with him. And there’s that charity dinner coming up, for which he’s also helping develop the webpage even though his father pointedly asked him not to come because even just using a cane would be bad for PR and he can’t make it through the evening without it. And also…

Zixuan sighs. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.

So he gives in, just this time. He takes the pill, and lets Jiang Cheng help him to bed where he promptly passes out.

When he wakes up again, hours must have passed. Night has fallen outside, and there’s no light in this part of the house, though Zixuan can vaguely hear something happening far away, in the kitchen. Although it is very tempting to stay in bed, Zixuan makes himself get up and, leaning hard on his cane, makes his way to the kitchen to check if Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling have had dinner yet.

Before he reaches the door, he’s startled to hear a singing voice.

The voice in question is good enough that he wonders for a moment if it’s not from a video, but the fact there’s no music is odd. Besides, Zixuan recognises that song as being from a cartoon that Jin Ling loves, but he’s never heard that particular version before.

The mystery unfolds when Zixuan steps in the doorway and finds Jiang Cheng singing with abandon as he cuts vegetables that Jin Ling is very carefully washing for him. The little boy seems very happy to be helping, his previous bad mood completely gone. It’s not such a surprise of course. Jin Ling adores his uncle, and Jiang Cheng has mastered the art of finding the line between too rough and too soft when it comes to dealing with his nephew. It always warms Zixuan’s heart to see those two together, but tonight it is almost too much for him.

There’s just something about the sincerity with which Jiang Cheng sings those stupid lyrics, his smile when Jin Ling joins him for the chorus, the happiness they radiate when Jiang Cheng picks up his nephew so Jin Ling can drop the vegetable into the pan… It is everything Jin Zixuan always hoped his family would be, even if it isn’t happening with the person he’d thought he’d live with.

And that’s what hit him hard tonight.

He’s had that thought before, watching Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling. The right amount of domesticity, only with the wrong person.

But Jiang Cheng spots him in the doorway and grins, blushing at being caught singing yet still happy, and Jin Zixuan realises that after five years of living together, he can’t say Jiang Cheng is the wrong person, not anymore.

It probably makes him an awful person. His wife might still be alive somewhere, and here he is, thinking that way about her brother.

He should be ashamed of himself.

He is, but not as much as he ought to be.

So Zixuan drops on a chair at the kitchen table, and smiles to himself as Jin Ling excitedly explains what they’re making, as Jiang Cheng resumes cooking and singing.

When they reach the chorus again, Zixuan too joins in.

[outerbankspreferences]

Mistakes Topper Thornton (Alternate Ending)

Word Count: 4178

A/N: So someone asked me to do a part two, so I did a different ending instead. Send me some request, because I’m going to spend the day tomorrow writing!!

MASTERLIST

It was three day’s before Topper was getting married. It was going to be the biggest wedding on the island. Finally, the Thornton and Cameron family coming together. This wasn’t for business, or blending families, this was simply the will of love between two people. Topper and Sarah had been together, broke up and then got back together when they came home from college. Topper went to university out west, studying pre-law while Sarah stayed home and got her nursing degree. It was about five years they weren’t together. Topper moved back home to finish his degree and started to work for law firm on the island. To say that Cynthia and Ward were ecstatic was an understatement, they had already started making business plans around their kids’ marriage. Cynthia invested in Rose’s real-estate, and Rose helped her find a new office for her clinics. Cynthia also helped Sarah get a job at the hospital.

Nothing was being left behind. When Topper and Sarah announced their engagement to everyone the planning went crazy. The engagement party was held at the country club and no expense was spared. It was obvious Rafe wasn’t getting married any time soon, and Wheezie was still too young. Sarah loved planning all the events and getting the photo’s done. She was happy to being doing all of this with Topper by her side. At one point in time, Topper was over baring for Sarah, almost too invested in pleasing her. When they were in high school the relationship didn’t work because they were on two different pages, they had two different needs. When Sarah left for college, she had a couple boyfriends but nothing really lasting, when she moved back to island, she ran into Topper at the Heyward’s grocery store and he asked her out for coffee to catch up. The rest being history.

Topper on the other hand had a serious relationship that he left out west. Y/N was everything to Topper at one point in his life. He had grown from his relationship in high school. Learning from his mistake he always tried to not be clingy towards her. She was a history major, planning on becoming a teacher. Y/N loved kids, she always dreamt of having plenty of her own. Topper and Y/N were together for almost four and half years. Y/N thought she was going to marry Topper, never imagining her life with anyone else. They had made plans together. Moving back to the Carolina’s when they both finished schools. Topper working at law firm for a while before starting his own practice, Y/N working at the high school he went too, or maybe the elementary school. They both wanted kids, Y/N wanted more then him, but they could compromise. They wanted to buy a nice house by the water, teach the kids how to surf, have a garden, maybe a dog. Everything was planned, until it wasn’t.

Y/N’s mom got sick her last year of university. Her mom had been sick a lot when she was a child, always spending time at other family’s houses growing up. She was an only child and her dad left when she was a little girl. When Y/N got the news that her mother was sick and needed her help, she didn’t question transferring to a university closer to home. In all honesty she thought about dropping out, being with her mom full time. The doctor told Y/N that this was her last fight. They thought she might’ve had 5 good years left, if they were lucky. When she told Topper this, he held her while she cried. He didn’t know a lot about her childhood, just assumed she like to keep that private, but that night she told him everything. Maybe she should have waited to bring up leaving, but she had to get everything off her chest that night. “Top, she only has a couple years left. I need to spend those with her. I need to be there for her.” Y/N tells him through tears and sniffles. “Wait, what do you mean? You’re not leaving, are you? Y/N/N, we have plans.” Topper was upset that she could so easily replace him. Not thinking twice about it. “You can come with me; we can do this together. I’m not sure if I can do this without you. Please Top, come with me. I need you.” She looked into his eyes and got the answer she wasn’t looking for. She saw anger and hurt. This wasn’t the Topper she fell in love. The one that was so kind and thoughtful.

That was where things ended. He wasn’t changing his life, not the life they wanted for her. It was selfish of him, but they had plans. So, they went their separate ways. Topper always kept an eye on the obituaries from her hometown. A couple years after being with Sarah he finally saw it. Y/N’s mom had died and left everything to her. He sent a card and donation, wondering if she ever got. He even paid all the funeral expenses. In some way he was trying to make up for the hurt he caused her. That next day he proposed to Sarah. When they were sending invitations to everyone, Sarah asked if his list was ready. They had the same friends so they only people extra he wanted to invite were some colleagues and old university buddies. He kept one invitation for himself though. Not telling Sarah why he wanted and extra one. He wanted to send one to Y/N, but he wanted to send more then just an invitation, he wrote her letter, wanting to get things off his chest before claiming his love to another women in front of a church. He knew it was wrong to send it, but he didn’t care. He figured you’d moved anyways after your mom died. You always said you hated your hometown. He sat down at his desk grabbing a pen and just started to write.

Dear Y/N,

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I can’t being to imagine what you must be thinking right now. I could take a swing at it though. Maybe your think what the hell is he writing me letter for. He broke my heart; he tore it into a million piece when I needed him the most. I don’t know why I did that to you. I think maybe because I got so scared you were going to leave and move on without me. I had pictured our life a certain way for so long that I didn’t want it to go any other way. I fucked up Y/N. I fucked you over when you left. I read about your mother online. I should have been there with you to get through everything. I should have been there with you, to hold you when you cried for her, to help make the big decisions. I donated to the charity you picked out. The school meal program, the was sweet. You can see that I’m getting married, to Sarah of all people. She’s a nurse now, working at the hospital with my mom. Things have gotten better with my mom. Things aren’t so bad between us. She loves planning this wedding, her and Sarah are like kids in candy store with the details. I finished law school; I’m working at firm here on the island. It’s nice to be home, I’ve enjoyed surfing on the east coast again. Sometimes I look around and I wonder if things would have been different if you stayed and we did this together. I wonder if you would have liked it here or maybe you wouldn’t because you hate storms, and we get a lot of hurricanes. I want to apologize Y/N. I want to say I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did. I’ll never forgot the look on your face that night. It keeps me awake at night. What I did to you Y/N, it was wrong, and I wouldn’t blame you for ripping this letter up and not giving me second thought. But if you don’t if you read this know that I’m inviting you to the wedding. I want you there, and not in some vengeful way, but as someone who I still want to have there. I understand if you don’t want to come but I hope you find it somewhere in your heart to change your mind.

Yours truly, Topper

It was sunny that day. Y/N had run to the post office on her break at work. She had finished her degree a year late, opting to take a year off when her mother first got sick. She got three good years with mom. They did everything on her bucket list. They went to Italy, then went rock climbing. Her mom took a cooking class, but most importantly she watched her daughter get married. When Y/N moved back home, she had no time for men. She wasn’t over Topper and wanted to put her full focus on her mom. After a while things got better and her heart started to hurt less. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, but when a new teacher started at her school her boss asked her to help him out. Evan was great. He was funny, kind and smart. He listened to everything she had to say. He heard from other teachers what was going with her mom and he became her support person. He proposed after only eight months of being together, but the two of them were so happy. It was different happy then Topper. He didn’t make her feel the same way, but she had to come to terms with the fact the no one was going to make her feel that way. It wasn’t fair to Evan to expect him to be someone he’s not. When he proposed it was the best day of her life. You guys did rush the wedding, but only because Y/N wanted her mom to be there. That was the last thing on her bucket list. To see her little girl, get married. Evan and Y/N didn’t take a honeymoon because a few weeks after the wedding her mom had finally passed. Y/N was devasted, she was hoping by some miraculous discovery they would cure her. It was a poor girl dream that didn’t come true. Y/N had planned the funeral with the help of Evan. When Evan went to pay for the funeral, the pastor told him it was already paid for by an angel donor. When he talked to her about, she assumed it was someone in the town that knew her mother.

When Y/N saw the letter, she recognized Topper’s handwriting. It was like a child’s, scribbled and almost unreadable. She could only read it from years of helping him study for tests. Her heart stopped for the second time in her life. Sitting in her car reading the words he wrote to her brought back a lot of painful memories she sooner forgets. She was so angry with him for bringing the past up but was happy to know that he had moved on from her. She never doubted that he would, after being so cruel to her, she began to wonder if all those years were just lies. Some sick joke to him. Though no matter what he did, Topper Thornton always held a special spot in her heart. She looked at the wedding invitation that went sent along with the letter and wondered if she should go. She could be spiteful and bring Evan with her making Topper fell some sort of pain. She didn’t think he could ever feel the same pain as she did. If it weren’t for Evan she would be alone right now.

Weeks turned into months and Y/N never told Evan about the letter she received. At first, she thought she wouldn’t go. Not giving Topper the validation that he still had some hold on her, but then she thought it might bring her closure to see him getting married. Maybe it would be like officially closing that chapter of her life. That’s what brought her to place she is now. Sitting in a plane on her way to North Carolina to watch the man she once so dearly loved to get married. She brought a simple dress not wanting to stand out, as she clearly wasn’t going to know anyone. She had only been this nervous a few times before. Waving the flight attendant over for a drink, liquid courage is what she needed. She wasn’t going to make a scene. Just sneak in the back, watch them say their vows, and sneak back out. She didn’t even book a hotel room opting to leave right after. She told Evan that she was meeting a friend out there from college which wasn’t a complete lie.

After the longest flight of her life, she caught the last fairy boat to Topper’s hometown. She drove through town in a rental car. It was small but cute. She found herself picturing the life she could’ve had. All the things Topper told her about his childhood. She even drove by the school reminiscing on the time she spent with Topper.

She still had a little while until the wedding. She thought she would be running late, but also didn’t want to show up to the church any sooner than she had too, if she was going to show up at all. She decided to head down to the beach. It was a thinking place for her. A place to be alone and collect her thought. She drove down the coast of Outer Banks seeing sign that congratulated Topper and Sarah on their big accomplishment. Y/N remembered Topper telling her about his life growing up, about how you either had everything made out for you or nothing at all. He was one of the lucky ones, his mother being a doctor at the hospital. His father was politician and was always gone on business.

 Y/N passed a bunch of yacht clubs and beaches on her way down the coast. She saw one spot by a hotel that must had been the reception area. “What a nice idea” Y/N thought. Topper loved the ocean, she always joked he was half fish. It was their favorite place to go. She kept driving until she got to a scolded area of the beach were no one was. She got out of the car and started walking towards the water. Her dress wasn’t so it was easy for her to walk in the water.

 Topper had stopped by the country club to make sure all the last-minute details were under control. Sarah had asked him to make sure there was enough champagne and bubbles for the send off to the honeymoon. He had assured her before that everything was ready to go, not to worry about, but did it anyways to appraise her mind. When he got to the venue, it was like it was someone else party. Like he was looking into this made-up scene in a box. He didn’t have his tux fully on yet, not wanting to wrinkle it. Instead, he was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and sweater.

 Topper had waited his whole life for this day. He had never seen his mother happier then when he asked for her help buying Sarah a ring. She could barely keep it a secret from Ward. At this point Topper didn’t know if he was doing this out of obligation or because he genuinely loved Sarah Cameron and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Of course, he was ready to settle down with someone, but was he just settling with Sarah? He decided to take a walk on the beach. One of the only places he could work out what he was feeling. He started heading towards the light house, knowing he could be gone long.

 He had walked not even half a mile when he saw her. He couldn’t tell at first, but it was her. He couldn’t miss that brown curly hair any where’s. He had to look twice to make sure it was har and not his mind playing tricks on him. Y/N was standing not even half a mile away from him. He couldn’t believe she got his letter and didn’t just throw it away. All of sudden Topper was nervous. He didn’t know what to do. Should he go over there and talk to her, should he ignore her and continue like she wasn’t there? He could turn around, she hadn’t seen him yet, he could walk away and never think about her again. But he couldn’t let her walk away, not again. He mustered up every bit a of courage he had and walked over to her.

 “Y/N?” He asked a small part of him hoped the women turning around wasn’t her. Just a miss understanding. She jumped a little. Turning around “Hey Topper, I-uh-I got your letter.” She spoke quietly.

 Y/N didn’t know what to do. He still looked so handsome, just like he did when she left. His eye blue eyes were paler. He looked tired, probably from planning a wedding. He was built differently though, not as fit as he once was but still strong. The two looked at each for what felt like ever. Topper couldn’t believe it, she looked more beautiful then when she left. She still had the kind doe eyes, and caring smile. A type of smile that would warm the saddest person’s heart.

 “I didn’t think you would actually come, I figured you were still mad at me.” He spoke up, not looking her in the eye. This was a conversation Topper always wanted to have with her, but never had the right words. “I had to get everything off my chest Y/N/N. I didn’t know if I could marry Sarah with all that in the past. I should have never done that too you. It was unfair and cruel.” He looked up meeting her eyes for the first time. Topper knew he still loved Y/N, he loved Y/N so much that it wasn’t fair to marry Sarah.

 “I figured that’s why you wrote the letter. You were never great with speaking how you felt. I didn’t know what to do when I got it. I was so angry at you Top. You left me when I needed you the most. I was so scared for my mom, but I knew if I had you by my side nothing would bad could happen, and then you left.” Y/N said to him. She promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, but there was no holding back the tears now. “Did you know my mom died? Did you know I held her in my arms while she took her last breath? Do you know how that felt?” She was screaming at him.

 Topper knew he deserved this, she deserved to get it all out. He could imagine the pain he caused her from leaving. “I did know she died. I donated in her name, and I paid for the funeral.” Topper spoke. “I didn’t want your money Top! I wanted you! I wanted you there, standing beside me! That whole time, all I wanted was you! I was married! Do you know how bad that is? That I wanted you, the man who broke me, not the husband who loves me.” Y/N was so frustrated, almost hyperventilating. Her words took Topper back, he didn’t know she was married. “I didn’t know you got married Y/N/N, that’s great I’m sure he’s great”- “Yeah he is. He’s a wonderful man, he’s a teacher like me, and he didn’t leave me. He stuck by my side through everything.” Y/N spoke quietly. She knew none of this was true. Sure, Evan was great, he was kind and caring, but he wasn’t Topper. Maybe Y/N settled too soon trying to appease mother. Giving her mom one last good memory. She looked back at Topper he was crying. He was crying for the wrong girl. He was crying for Y/N, for his past that he screwed up. Y/N looked out on to the water trying to settle her nerves some how, trying to hold herself back from speaking.

 “You know what the worst off all this Top is?” She spoke not looking away from the waves.

 “Do you want me to start this list?” He asked half heartily trying to make her laugh, which she did. He missed that laugh so much.

 “I still love you.” Topper looked at her. He almost had to ask her to repeat herself because he thought he miss heard her. “I still love you Topper, and I don’t know what I was thinking coming down here. I don’t want to start trouble or anything, but I need you to know all this before you marry Sarah. And I’m sure she’s great, but I love you.” Y/N spoke, finally turning to look at him. She knew it was wrong to tell Topper all of this. It wasn’t fair for her to confess her love for him hours before he was getting married to another women.

 Topper stood there in shock. He never thought he would hear those words come from her. Not after he broke her heart. He had an obligation to marry Sarah though. Plans had been made, people had showed up, she was probably getting ready with her friends right now. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how much he still loved Y/N. Would it be fair to marry Sarah even though he loved another person? He was drawn from his thought again when Y/N spoke up, her voice shaky.

 “I’m not sure why I still love you, you broke me Topper, but everyday since then I’ve loved you. When I was getting married, I wanted to be you, it was always you for me. I know you’re the one for me, you’re still the one.” She was crying at this point and hurt Topper to see her like that, he always hated seeing you cry.

 Y/N looked at Topper, searching his facial expression for anything that would make him fight for them. She started to walk away, figuring that he didn’t love her back. How could he? He was getting married. “I still love you too Y/N/N.” She stopped dead in her tracks, whipping her head around to look at him.

 “What I did to you was inexcusable I should have fought for you.” Topper spoke walking towards her. He grabbed her small hands in his to stop them from shaking. “I forgot how beautiful you looked at night.” He whispered only for the two of them to hear. She looked down blushing. He could always make her heart flutter with his complements. He lifted her chin up to look him in the eye, wiping her tears.

 “I’m willing to fight for this if you are. I want you Y/N, not Sarah. I don’t know what we’ll do, we can leave, tonight. Go somewhere no one else knows us and start new. I don’t want to imagine my life without you.” Topper told her. He knew it would hurt Sarah, but she would move on. He also knew that a dead marriage would hurt both more.

 “What about Evan Top? I have a life back home, a job, I can’t turn around and leave it.” Y/N was more scared than anything. “I have some money put away, and you can get another job. I’ll get another job.” That was enough to sell Y/N. Maybe this was crazy, but it was going to be worth it for him. “Okay let’s go, tonight Topper. I don’t want to waste another second.”

 Topper was so happy, he leaned down and kissed Y/N with all passion he had. A kiss he should have been sharing with Sarah. He missed kissing Y/N, the way her lips were soft and plump, and always tasted like vanilla. She kissed him back, missing the feeling of his skin touching hers. They were making up for lost time. Nether rushing anything, just becoming familiar with one another again.

 After pulling away the drove back to Topper and Sarah’s apartment packing a few of his belongs putting them in her rental car. Next stop was his office to pick up his files for cases he was working on. As they drove towards the fairy, Topper kept looking over to her. “Are you sure you want to do this Topper, it’s not to late to turn around?” Y/N asked almost sacred of the answer. “I’m sure if you are love.” He said looking over to her before focusing on the road. She took his hand in hers, “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.”

[sun-stormz]

Genshin Impact Visions & Gods

This has been bugging me since i started playing in mid november, but what makes a certain Archon give a Character their Vision. Considering i couldnt find any official info, I decided to do some research on each Archon and then on the player Characters we have of each element as of beginning of December 2020.

This will contain spoilers on characters & story!

Note: The travelers will not be included due to them not having Visions and having more then one Element.

I am basing this on overlaping themes and not on anything related to the actual Archon. I did add some info on the archons tho, due to this being about Visions and archons

“It is unclear whether Visions are directly granted by its element's corresponding Archon or by the nation's Archon. There is also the possibility that granting a Vision requires approval from both Archons. Yet another possibility is that they are granted by neither, and are instead given by the gods on Celestia.”

-Genshin Wiki on reciving Visions

Starting with my Favourite Element, Electro.

Electro wise, We have five Characters as of right now: Kequin, Razor, Beidou, Fishl and Lisa. The Electro Archon, God of Eternity, Baal, is the ruling Archon of the Area, Inazuma, whitch is the area we are getting in the 1.4 update in 2021.

To start off i read into any info i could find on Baal and i gotta say, she is a interesting Fellow. As of right now we know that Baal has locked Inazuma down and has initiated a Vision Hunt Decree, due to her thinking Visions should be under the sole domain of divinity. She also hasnt handed out any Visions since this decree which means all Electro characters we know have gotten theirs before this drastic change.

Now, why did these 5 characters get their Visions? Well each character has a different reason, from Razor wanting to protect those he calls friends to Lisa simpley saying it would be of use to her and just getting it. From what I've found there isnt really a big overlap in the reciving of the characters, but what is overlaping is their fixation on something.

Razor recived his vision due to him being fixated on getting stronger to protect his friends after he failed to while being dragged away by an abyss mage

Kequin was fixated on sharing her beliefs, that the people of Lyiue shouldnt rely on Rex Lapis and have their Pride and that their views are of Equal importance

Fishl was so fixated on a book series she changed herself to be like the main character, fishl and her Vision manifested in the form of Oz, one of the characters from said book

Beidou was fixated on killing Haishan, a sea monster, from a young age and recived her vision when she did so

Lisa is pretty much fixated on understanding magecraft and the cost of reciveing a Vision.

Now onto a easier Element, Geo

The Archon of Geo and Contracts, Morax, Archon of Lyiue.

Morax or Rex Lapis, was one of the oldest gods, defended Lyiue in the Archon war, the Currency in Teyvat, Mora, is named after him and as of Chp.1 Act 3 we know that he has taken the form of Zhongli and has retired as the Geo Archon.

Morax, Along with Barbatos, are the only two Archons of the Original Seven that havent been replaced.

Now, who are our Geo Characters? Noelle and Ningguang, two dedicated powerhouses! This one is fairly simple, thanks to voicelines we have of Zhongli since he came out as a player character (Bless the pity pull for giving me this man)

In his “About Ningguang” Voiceline he says: ”Despite the multitude of affairs she deals with in a day, Ningguang always continues to press on. A rare gem indeed. I'm reminded of the time that she used to walk barefoot from Yaoguang Shoal to the south wharf, trying to sell her wares as she went. Time is cruel to humans.”

Noelle recived her vision when Jean Acknowledged her hard work when she tried to get into the knights of favonius. in her “Vision” story it states: This was a lucky day that she would always remember, for she would receive recognition from two all-important sources this day: once from Jean, and the other from the gods. Her hard work has been remembered after all.

So for short: Hard working and dedicated = Geo Vision

Next up we have Anemo

Our wonderful Tone deaf bard, Venti or otherwise known as the Archon of Anemo and freedom, Barbatos, the not really ruling Archon of Mondstadt.

Barbatos is a freedom loving guy and refuses to rule over Mondstadt, the city of freedom and is by far the weakest of the Archons, despite this the people of Modstadt still love and adore their windy God.

I went into this one thinking “Oh this is easy, itll be love for freedom or something!” Nope, it surprisingly wasnt. Jean and sucerose recived their visions through their Determination it seems. Sucerose from doing her 159th Dandilion seed Simmering experiment and Jean seemed to be determened to be a good grandmaster and to protect Mondstadt.

That aside, i couldnt find many overlaps with the two, they are both free spirited and love what they do.

Now on to Pyro

Pyro, the Element of the Archon Murata who is also the god of War, is wielded by the fan fav Diluc, as well as Klee, Xiangling, Amber, Bennett and Xinyan.

Not much is known about Murata, Venti describes her as a “ wayward, warmongering wretch” and thats about all we know. She presides over Natlan.

Now to the characters, this was acually the easiest of them all: Passion.

Every Pyro user has a huge amount of passion that a rolemodel or Loved one ignited within them.

This one definitly surprised me the least and i am really excited for when we meet Murata and Natlan.

Diluc has the same passion his father had

Klee has a passion for Explosives that her mother ignited

Xiangling has a passion for food and cooking she got from her father

Amber got her Passion for Mondstadt and the outriders from her grandfather

Bennett got the Passion for adventure from all the old adventurers he calls dads, yes Dads as in plural, that raised him

Xinyan has a passion for Rock, tho i havent found out more of her story due to her being so new.

Now heading onto Hydro

Hydro, along with Dendro, is the only element where we do not know the name of the Archon. All we do know is that they are the Archon of Hydro and Justice and rule over Fontaine.

So straight to the Hydro characters: Barbara, Mona and Xingqiu.

I dont really count Childe due to the only thing talked about is his dilusion and i am rather confused on if he even has a real vision but i still love him lots

Im going to be honest this one really had me running the brain gears for a while.

All three recived their Vision as an extension of the self.

Barbara  got hers after helping a sick boy by singing to him to help him sleep through a fever, Mona rekindeled a learning aid to her vision, to aid her with her search for the truth of the rules of the world and Xingqiu got his after he explained the principles of his clans martial arts anew, litterally saying that martial artists should see Visions as a extension of the self.

Last but definitly not least, Cryo

Cryo, the Element of the Archon know as the Tsaritsa. We acually dont know her corrisponding ideal nor her acual name and this one was just as geargrinding as Hydro.

The Tsaritsa, Ruler of the fatui and the one that gives them their Dilusions, is one interresting lady. We get a description of her from Childe: “Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. Likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. Her gaze was cold but pure, arrogant yet sharp. She was not only the sacrosanct Cryo Archon but a true warrior also.”

Kaeya, Chongyun, Diona and Qiqi, our current four Cyro userer, all have rather interesting storys when it comes to how they got their Vision.

All dont accept something

Kaeya felt guilty about hiding who he was from the family that adopted him after his father abandoned him to be a spy in Mondstadt, and told Diluc, someone he used to be very close with, the truth, since then he sees his vision as a stern reminder that he must live his life under a heavy burden of Lies. He pretty much doesnt accept the truth of his situatin and would rather live with that heavy burden

Chonyun is surpressing a part of himself, the condition he has, and as Xiangling says in Chongyuns stories, is denying a part of him. He trys to work around his condition and wont accept it as the way to go about how he practices exocrism.

Diona wont accept the truth about her father being a Alcoholic, and places the blame on the Alcohol industy instead of accepting that he isnt as high and mighty as she thought. She wont accept that her fathers bad control over his drinking habits is the reason he acts as he does and instead blames the alcohol industry.

Qiqi didnt want to accept her death nor does she really accept her Zombie like traits and only uses them when she needs to defend herself.

My theory is the Cyro Visions are recevied when you wont accept the grim reality as it is, if this is positive or negative variates

When it comes to the last element, Dendro, we sadly know nothing nor have we seen any dendro character in action. So that might be a addition later on.

I’m really interrested if we find out the actual criteria for reciving each Vision one day

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 14

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 3494

Warnings:  Pregnancy, Smut (Bisexual orgy, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, hand jobs, light d/s, rough sex, come play)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 14: Steve’s Game

Things were relaxed for a few weeks.  Natasha and Wanda’s morning sickness had all but ended by the last ultrasound, so it was just me struggling in the morning and aside from the usual work things were stress-free.  The major thing going on was the twins were about to start preschool and everyone was this mix of excited and panicked about it.  Each of us a different blend of each.

We also couldn’t quite decide who of us should take them and pick them up on their first day.  We would all agree to everyone going because we were all their parents and people should know that.  Then someone would start worrying about them being teased or bullied about it and so we’d agree that it would just be the same two or four of us doing the pickups and drop-offs.  Or it would be some in-between to that, five for drop off, five for pick up.  Which of us should go would change when it wasn’t all of us at once.  Sometimes we’d think it would be best if it was the biological parents because then it would be easier for people to accept.  Other times we thought it best if it wasn't because they were our kids and biology didn't matter.  We thought Steve should be there because he was the one we all turned to for the big decision making.  Then we thought he absolutely shouldn't because of the attention he’d attract.  Natasha was adamant that she go so she could cloak them on drop off and pick up.

Eventually, we decided that the first day was important.  There were teachers to meet and while the class might be full with all ten of us walking around in it, they'd have to deal with it because we ten people were those two kids' parents and this was an important first for them.  None of us wanted to miss it.

“Alright, my little ones,” Natasha said. It was the night before their first day of preschool and we’d been playing Candy Land with them in teams as we all sat by the large window that looked out over midtown.  It was getting late for the kids and they were going to have a big day tomorrow.  “You both start school tomorrow, so you need to go and get ready for bed.  Who do you want to give you your bath?”

They looked at each other and scrunched up their noses.  “Ummm… Daj?”  Pietro said.

“Yeah, Daj,” Riley agreed.  “You do da bubbews, Daj?”

Wanda laughed softly.  “Yeah, I can do the bubbles.”

“And who should read you your stories?”  Natasha asked.

“Umm…” Pietro said again, looking at Riley.  “I wand… daddy Bwuce.”

“How about, daddy Steeb?”  Riley suggested.

Pietro whined and stuck out his bottom lip.  “Daddy Steeb don do da voices.”

“Damn, Daddy Steve,” Tony teased. “What kind of second rate act are you running?”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve laughed.  “I’ll try harder from now on.”

“What if I read one and then Daddy Steve reads one?”  Bruce suggested.  “As a special treat?”

“Yeah!”  Pietro said, bouncing in his seat.

“Alright then, come on monsters,”  Wanda said, getting up.  “Let’s go have a bath.”

They chased after her and I started packing up the board game.

“Can’t believe they’re starting school,” Sam said.  “Gonna have to put bricks on their heads to stop them from growing.”

“Aww, no,” Clint said.  “It’s cool seeing them become little people.”

“And we shall have four new little ones soon enough,” Thor added.

“We’re going to be drowning in dirty diapers,” Bucky said.  “We’ll be thanking the universe they’re out of diapers.”

“I’m already thanking it for that,” Tony joked.

“How are you doing there, mama bear,” Sam asked, leaning down and rubbing my back as he kissing the side of my neck.

“I’m alright. Nervous but excited,” I said, reaching behind me and running my fingers down the back of his neck.  “I’m gonna get some chocolate.”

He sat back with a chuckle. “It’s always sugar and carbs with you, huh?”

“I’m growing a human, I’m allowed,” I said getting up.  I went and put away the board game and headed into the kitchen.  It was sparkling clean and empty when I went in thanks to our private cook, and I beelined straight to the pantry looking for something sweet.  I found a bag of peanut m&ms and when I brought them back out I was greeted by Steve with his arms folded over his chest and leaning in the doorway.

“Uh oh,” I said, pouring myself a handful of the colorful candy.  “Dad’s here.  Where did I do?”

“El,” he said sternly.

“What?  What’s wrong?”  I asked.

“I’m just worried about you, sweetheart,” he said coming over and putting his hands on my hips.  “You seem a little tired and distant.”

I looked up into his eyes and held a red m&m to his lips.  He opened his mouth, letting me drop the candy in, and nipped at my finger.  “I’m fine,” I assured him.  “I am tired.  But the morning sickness has been kicking my ass.  And the stress about tomorrow isn’t helping with it.”

“Why are you so stressed out?”  He asked.

I shook my head.  “We’ve been sheltering them so much.  They don’t have a lot of experience with other kids and none their age.  I worry they won’t know how to deal with being with a bunch of strangers.  And then on top of that coming from us.  Ten parents.  Nine of them are probably the most famous people on the planet.  There’s going to be kids there with Iron Man backpacks and Captain America t-shirts.  That’s a lot for two little kids to carry on their shoulders.  I’m just worried and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to relax enough to sleep properly.”

“Did you change your mind?”  Steve asked.  “Do you want to try homeschooling instead?  We do have some of the smartest minds on the planet available.”

I shook my head.  “I know.  I’m not worried about them not being educated.  They’re going to be fine when it comes to that.  I’m worried about them not having friends or being able to socialize with their peers.  I know what we have is good.  They are loved and doted on.  But they need to experience the real world too.”

“Tell you what,” Steve said, pulling my hips flush to his.  “If they don’t like it, or it’s not working for whatever reason, we pull them out.  Find a homeschooling group that likes the idea of having big field-trips funded for them and that’s where they can get their social from. So either way, they’ll get the balance.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest.  “You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Steve said and pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Why couldn’t my parents be more like you?” I asked.

He rubbed my back and pulled back, looking into my eyes.  “We’ll make sure all our kids get the childhoods we wished we could have had.  Okay?”

I nodded and he leaned down and kissed me deeply.  My hand went to his jaw and his slid down to my thighs and he lifted me, placing me on the kitchen cabinet.  His lips traveled along my jaw and he sucked softly just below my ear.  “How about you go up and take a shower, get nice and clean.  Then after I’ve read to the kids I can get you nice and dirty again.”

“Mm… Steve, your dirty talk is getting so good,” I teased and he spanked my thigh.

“Go on,” he said, letting me down off the counter.  “You can decide if you’ve been bad or good.”

I started laughing and he raised an eyebrow at me.  “Sorry,” I said, patting his ass.  “You made me think of Santa.”

Steve wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him.  “You do not make it easy sometimes.”

“I know,” I said, bumping him with my shoulder.  “I’m a very bad girl.”

He spanked my ass again and I laughed as I headed upstairs, eating the m&ms.  I poked my head into the bathroom on my way down to the master bedroom.

“Mommy!”  Riley said, splashing the water when I came in.  Pink bubbles were floating around their heads as Wanda wriggled her fingers, creating them from nothing, and both the kids had bubbles on their heads and chins.

“Hey, kiddos.  You having fun?”  I asked.

“Yeah, mommy,” Pietro said.  “Daj maded de bubbews.”

“I can see,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the tub.  “Daj is so clever isn’t she?”

“Yeah!”  They said at once, bouncing in the tub.

“Well, I’m going to go to bed now, honey bunnies,” I said.  “So I’m going to say goodnight to you now.  I’ll see you both in the morning for school.”

“Otay, mommy,” Pietro said, standing up in the tub.  I smiled and gave him a kiss goodnight and then kissed Riley too.

“Sweet dreams, kiddos,” I said.

“Sweet dweams, mommy,” they both said together.

I got back up and Wanda took my hand.  “I’ll be down when I’m done with them,” she said.

“Okay, beautiful.  See you in a bit,” I said.

I went and took a shower, washing my hair, and taking the time to let the hot water relax my muscles.  When I was done I dried off and put on lotion before dressing in a sheer blue cami and thong.

Wanda was undressing when I came into the bedroom from the wardrobe and she smiled at me.

“They in bed?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, tossing her skirt into the laundry hamper.  “Bruce and Steve are in with them now.”

“Steve’s going to meet me in here,” I said, climbing into the swing bed.

She smirked and climbed up onto the mattress and began to crawl over to me.  She was still dressed in her matching black lace panties and bra and knee-high black socks.  The swell of her stomach doing nothing at all to detract from how sexy she was.  “He won’t be the only one.”

She brought her lips to mine, and we kissed slowly and passionately, our lips caressing against each other and our tongues dancing together.  I tangled my legs with hers and my stomach pressed against her baby bump.  There was no frantic rush to proceed.  We were just killing time, kissing, and touching each other.

My cunt flooded.  My arousal soaked through my panties and smeared on her bare thigh.  The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see Steve but finding Clint instead.

“Well, well,” he teased, closing the door behind him.  “What do we have here?”

“Nothing much,” I hummed, running my fingers up Wanda’s side.  “Just killing time.

“Well, I was gonna have a shower,” Clint said, taking off his shirt as he sauntered over to the bed.  “But this looks like much more fun.”

He unfastened his pants and pushed them down, tripping as he tried to step out of the legs and landing sprawled on the mattress and making the bed rock back-and-forth wildly.

Wanda and I started laughing.  “Nice one, Clint,” I teased.

“Hush,” he said as he crawled up behind me.  He leaned over me and began to kiss Wanda as he rutted slowly against my ass and massaged my sensitive breasts.  His cock started hardening against my ass and I moaned loudly and rocked my hips between them.

The door opened again and this time when I looked up there were three people silhouetted in the doorway.  Steve was standing at the front of Bucky and Sam with his arms folded over his chest.  The three men surveyed us, I could see Sam smirking as Bucky shifted on his feet.

“Elise,” Steve scolded.  “I don’t remember saying you could start without me.”

I sat up quickly and pulled my legs up against me.  Wanda and Clint sat up too.  Clint bouncing with excitement while Wanda tilted her head and looked at Steve with an expression telling me they were having a silent conversation.  I assumed it was about what was about to happen.  I was excited too.  Wanda wasn’t super into any level of BDSM, but she did seem to have fun being on the side of it while other people were doing something mild.  It was almost like she liked the roleplaying aspect but not the physical side.  Bucky on the other hand I’d never known to participate at all in this kind of thing.  It was going to be fun to see what Steve had in his head that had made him want to bring both Sam and Bucky along with him.

“We’re playing a Steve game?  I didn’t know we were playing a Steve game,” Clint said excitedly.

Wanda gave a little nod and Steve stepped into the room properly.  He walked around the side of the bed and turned the levers so the bed would be held firmly in place.  Sam closed the door behind them as Steve sat on the edge of the bed.  Wanda quickly moved so she was sitting in Steve’s lap.  “So it seems to me,” Steve said as he unhooked Wanda’s bra.  “We have one very good girl and one very bad girl and they both need a seeing to.”

Wanda giggled and tossed her bra aside as Steve leaned down and sucked on her breast.  Bucky and Sam began to undress as they watched on as Wanda moaned and let her head fall back and her hands tangle in Steve’s hair.  My eyes kept flicking from Steve and Wanda to Bucky and Sam as I sat buzzing with anticipation.  Steve pulled back and gently massaged Wanda’s breasts.  “There’s four of us though, so I think we should be able to take care of them,” he guided Wanda to her feet and pulled her panties down.  “Who’d like to start with our very good girl?”

“Sounds like fun,” Bucky said, stepping forward as he stroked his cock.  “What do you say, Wan?  You gonna be good for me?”

“I’d like that, Bucky,” she said, guiding him back onto the bed and straddling his waist.

Steve grabbed my ankle and dragged me over to him.  I squealed and he pulled me up into his lap.  “Our bad girl is going to need a firmer hand I think,” Steve said and tore my camisole straight down the front.  I squeaked and he wrapped his arm around me and began to palm my cunt.  “She’s going to need to be shown who’s in charge.  Who’s up for that?”

Sam stepped up.  “I think I’m up for that,” Sam teased, pumping his cock.  “If you know what I mean.”

“Oh my god,” Clint cackled.  “That was the perviest dad joke ever!”

Steve pushed me to my feet and ripped my thong at the waistband, so both it and my cami fell to the floor.  Sam stepped close and grabbed my wrist, spinning me around so my back was pressed against his chest.  His finger slipped between my folds and he rubbed my clit roughly as he nipped at the shell of your ear.  “You’re already so wet and ready for my cock, princess,” he whispered against my ear.  “How about you bend over the bed for me, princess?”

“How about you make me?” I taunted, grinding my ass back against his dick.

Sam shoved me forward so I was bent over the bed facing Wanda and Bucky, and spanked my ass hard.  I gasped and wriggled a little on my feet.

“What are we doing?”  Clint asked, moving over to Steve.

Steve pulled him close and began to palm Clint’s cock.  “We’re going to be patient, enjoy the show and when Sam and Bucky are done we’ll have our turn.”

I watched as Wanda slowly rolled her hips as she rode Bucky.  He leaned up pulling one of her nipples into his mouth and making her mewl and throw her head back.  While I watched, Sam lined himself up with my entrance and thrust hard in.  It pushed me forward on the mattress and made the bed sway slightly even though it had been tethered down.  “Fuck, Sam,” I moaned loudly.

He spanked my ass and wrapped his hand in my hair.  “None of that talk,” he growled.

“Fuck you,” I mewled.

He spanked me again and began to just rail into me.  He pulled my hair, yanking my head back while at the same time he pressed down in the middle of my back.  “No, princess,” Sam said.  “It’s you that is going to get fucked.”

Clint started laughing again.  “Sam!  Seriously!  You can’t do dad jokes during sex.”

I started laughing and Sam spanked me hard again, making me yelp and jerk under him.  “Do something about the mouthy bird will you, Cap?”

Steve grabbed Clint’s hair and whispered into Clint’s ear.  “Yes, sir,” Clint mewled, letting Steve hold him with his head yanked back.

I turned my focus to Wanda.  She was panting heavily and Bucky was fucking up into her as he suckled on her breast.  I could see how close she was and there was something about seeing him much more tame and gentle sex happening in front of me made the way Sam was pounding into feel even more intense.  I started moaning and trying to hold myself up.  Sam wrapped his arm around my waist and rubbed my clit hard as he leaned right over me, so he was pressed down on me.  “You wanna come, princess?”

“Yes, please, Sam,” I begged.  “Please.”

He pinched my clit and picked up his pace and I came, screaming out.  Sam groaned, grabbing my hips and thrusting hard into me as his orgasm hit and he emptied inside me.

Our orgasms seemed to drag Wanda over and she threw her head back and moaned loudly as it shuddered through her.  “Alright, Clint,” Steve said, patting his thigh.  “Your turn with Wanda.”

“Hey, wait a second.  I’m not done yet,” Bucky complained.

“You’re gonna help me with El,” Steve said moving over to me as Sam slipped from within me.  He picked me up and flipped me over, putting me back on the bed so my head was hanging over the edge.  Wanda rolled off Bucky, onto her back and Clint crawled up between her legs, kissing the insides of her thighs.

Steve pushed my knees up and tapped the head of his cock on my clit as Bucky teased my lips with his cock.  I tilted my head back, opening my throat up and letting Bucky push his cock into my mouth as Steve thrust into my cunt.  Bucky went slow but deep, testing my limit and blocking my airway as he pushed his cock down my throat.  His cock was soaked in Wanda’s juices and I hungrily sucked her tart fluids from him.  Steve on the other was relentless.  He pounded into me, pushing me further down onto Bucky’s cock with each thrust.  I went to grab Bucky’s hips, but Steve grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the mattress.  I was vaguely aware of Clint and Wanda beside us, but only in an abstract way.  All my focus was on Steve and Bucky and my impending orgasm.  Sam began to rub my clit and an orgasm crashed down on my immediately, I mewled into Bucky’s cock as I shuddered around Steve, but neither man eased up, they both just kept fucking me even harder than before.  Steve guided one of my hands up and it touched on Sam’s cock.  I started to jerk him off.  The men would kiss and whisper things to each other above me but what they were saying, I couldn’t tell.

Another orgasm hit and then a third.  I could barely hold myself together.  Wanda had moved up close to me and when a fourth hit both Bucky and Steve pulled out at once.  I choked and arched my back, my whole body quaking with my orgasm.  Wanda put her head on my shoulder and cupped my jaw, pulling me into a kiss, and around me, Steve, Bucky, and Sam jerked their cocks.  As Wanda and I kissed, Steve, Bucky, and Sam came, painting the two of us in hot white ropes.

“Fuck,” Clint groaned and reached over, and ran his fingers through the mess.  “You both look so fucking hot.”

“And you are such a dirty bird,” Sam teased and spanked his ass.

“Alright, you two,” Steve said, scooping me up as Bucky picked up Wanda.  “Let’s get you cleaned off and get you into bed.  Big day tomorrow.”

I hummed and curled up in his arms not at all concerned about sleep at all.

// NEXT

[slvtbible]

yours, mine and ours

summary: your former partner left you during your pregnancy then after four months you met Harry, who took care of you and the baby. years later an unwanted guest shows up at your house at night

a/n: hiii! i was bored and realized i haven’t written in a looong time. GOLD is still in the making, don’t worry. but lately i’m a sucker for dad!harry so here it is! if it sucks i’m sorry, i’m a little rusty after not writing for a while. nevertheless hope you all enjoy it! give me feedbacks after! xx

***

Back in college, you met whom you thought was the love of your life. It all started when he asked to borrow a pen from biology class and had asked you out shortly after to hang out with him. You were inseparable ever since. You two had begun dating for over two years and the thought of being with someone else new didn’t even cross your mind back then, the two of you were too in love. Even your friends were getting sick of it. He had treated you with love and respect, your family loved him and vice versa. The thought of getting married had always been a conversation between the two of you and you were so sure of it. 

But your future fairy tale had ended when you found out you were pregnant. You woke up with a headache before fleeing towards the bathroom and threw up on a toilet bowl. When you bought a pregnancy test from the nearest pharmacy to make sure, you were terrified but at the same time delighted that you were pregnant. You thought that Brian would feel the same way as well when you broke the news to him. Instead, his face fell. He was angry and upset, asking you how could you be so stupid to let something like that happened. He wasn’t ready at all. He loved you but he wasn’t ready. His priority was now his work and he’d be damned to let a baby ruin that for him. At least that’s what he said.

You were broken and disappointed when he left. The whole thing was frightening you. How on earth could you possibly take care of your own baby alone? Your family lived in a different city and although you have friends who care about you, they still have their own lives to deal. It was crazy and you were losing your mind. 

Then you met Harry. A sweet, shy yet gentle loving man who adores you. You two met at a supermarket. You were craving for a yoghurt and had no one else to ask to buy it except yourself, although your feet were tiring and your back was hurting it must have been done. Harry was nearby when you were struggling to grab the item due to the height. He walked over to you and helped you by giving it to you. He was so sweet and kind plus he was a sucker for pregnant women, he loves babies. 

For twenty minutes the two of you were talking and had shared a few stories here and there, it felt really really good. It has been a while since you talked to people other than your mother and your best friend, Janice. He was telling you how he loved coming back to this city because LA had always been such a pressure to him and he needed to get away from all of that. When he learned that your former partner had abandoned you while you were carrying a child, he was angry yet he remained calm on the outside. How could anyone hurt a gorgeous woman like you and left his own baby because of his selfish needs? How?

And that’s when he asked you out to go to lunch, he promised himself to take good care of you and be there for you whenever you needed something.

Now, here you are at twenty five years old, working at a local hospital and has a two year old daughter along with your beautiful fiance. You feel so happy to be with two people that you love more than anything in this world. Nothing could ever replace them.

“Mommy look! I drew unicorn!” Your daughter, Bella squeals. Excitedly showing you her drawing full of purple and pink color. She is honestly the cutest baby you have ever seen.

You smile down at her as you are preparing for dinner, wiping down your hands on your apron. “Wow baby! You’re really good, aren’t you my little artist? Why don’t you show it to daddy when he gets home?” You lean down and kisses her chubby cheek,

She giggles and nods her head before running off to the living room to draw some more. You go back to put a few utensils on the table when you hear the front door open,

“I’m home! How’s my two beautiful girls doing?” Harry walks in with a huge grin on his face. Work has always been so stressful for him but knowing that he gets to see his girls at the end of the day always turns his frown upside down,

“Daddy!” Bella squeals, running quickly towards his tall broad figure and hugs his leg as she laughs, “You home!”

Harry’s smile is even wider now, lifting his leg up before grabbing her small body and holding her close to his chest. “How are you my baby angel? Were you being good to mumma while I was out?”

Bella nods, wrapping her tiny hands around his neck. “Missed you daddy. I drew unicorn! Daddy see!”

Harry smiles and kisses his baby girl’s cheek and puts her down. “Really? You did? Go and get it then, pumpkin” he says, petting her head before she walks off,  excited to show her daddy. After he sees her rushes towards the living room, he turns towards the dining room, seeing you place the home cooked meal. The sight of your hair up in a messy bun and dirty apron causes his heart to swell, you may think you look absolutely ridiculous at the moment but to him, you still look beautiful as ever.

“Hi, lovie” He greets you, wrapping his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “I’ve missed you at work today.”

You look up to him and give him a warm smile that he always adores, pecking his soft lips. “Hi, H. How was your day?” You ask, untying your apron before putting it down on the counter,

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, giving you a weary smile. “Better now that i’m home with you. Couldn’t wait to get home to see my two favorite girls. Was pretty bored.”

“Mhmm, i’ve missed you too. I switched my shift with Maya today so no night shifts for me, I get to spend time with you and Bella.” you say, heart warms when he pulls you closer and pecks your forehead, taking your hand as the two of you walk towards the living room

“Finally. Bella has been dying to watch Toy Story 4 with us. Said she doesn’t wanna watch it alone with me, wants her momma too.” He says, pulling off his coat before placing it on the couch. His eyes then turn to your daughter, whose hands are busy grabbing all of the drawings she created. “Are those it, baby?” he asks, kneeling down to her level,

She gives him a toothy smile and gives the papers to him. “Look daddy! This one for you!”

Harry’s heart warms at her statement, gasping slightly as he takes the paper from her little hands. “Oh really? Thank you so much, baby! Daddy will keep it forever!”

Bella giggles and pecks Harry on his cheek before moving her tiny legs towards you. “Mommy, pee.” she says, her big brown eyes looking up to you as she tugs your pants,

You laugh before picking her up. “Okay baby. Harry, love, can you please take the lasagna from the oven please? And go place it on the table. We’ll eat right after Bella takes her potty.”

Harry gets up and nods his head, “Sure thing, bub.” He walks back into the kitchen, taking out the lasagna from the oven and nearly waters at the smell. You sure really know how to cook.

“God, i’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He mutters, smiling softly and places the food on the table. As he struts his way towards the living room to wait for you, he hears a knock on the door. He frowns, looking at the clock noticing it is almost 7pm and wonders who could it be. He doesn’t think you or him called anyone.

The knocks don't even stop, so he slowly makes his way to the front door before grabbing a bat just in case it was a stalker or worse.

He unlocks the door and the sight causes him to almost fall on his knees. He doesn’t even need to ask who he is. He knows exactly who’s the bloke.  The same man who broke your heart years ago, left you with a baby to take care of and had made you fear of falling in love again because the trauma was unbearable. 

Seeing this man standing there and all Harry sees is a picture of you breaking down to tears, blaming yourself for what happened and wishes that you could be good enough for this son of a bitch. He sees red. But he needs to remain calm and collected or else this could go downhill.

Brian is startled, seeing Harry open the door is unexpected. He thought that it was you instead. “Uhh, does y/n lives here?”

Harry crosses his arms, clenching his jaw. How could this asshole even dares to say her name?

“Yes. Can I help you?” Harry asks, leaning against the door frame. Struggling not to kick his ass.

“I uh kinda need to talk to her mate. It’s kind of important.” Brian says, shoving his hands inside his jacket,

“You’ve lost that privilege a long time ago. She doesn’t wanna see you. Get out.” Harry demands. There is no way in hell, Harry would let this man talk to you. Even for a slight second.

Brian scoffs, “look man, you think you know about our relationship but you don’t, now can you go get me y/n? I’m not leaving until I see her.”

“Get off my property before I call the police.” Harry threatens, clenching his fists. He is absolutely ready to throw a punch if he doesn’t leave,

Brian is about to say something back to him, that is after you walk back and call out Harry’s name making the two men freeze,

“Harry? Who’s that on the door?” you question, putting down Bella on her playpen. Your heart stops beating for a couple seconds, you swear it, soon as you see who’s on the front door. 

“Brian?” you squeak, lips beginning to tremble. You cannot believe he found out where you live and had the guts to stop by. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, y/n” Brian greets awkwardly, seeing you walking closer to the front door. Harry sees how your demeanor changed in a sec. That’s how much this Brian guy had made you suffer and he can’t accept that.

“Just came to say hi.”

“Say hi?” you ask beginning to get mad, tears fill your eyes as he smiles softly at you. “You left me with a baby, alone. You blamed me for everything that has happened and you thought that it was okay to stop by and say ‘hi’?”

Harry breaks when he sees you like that, your voice cracks. You were being just fine, already forgot this bloke for what he did to you and now he showed up years later to ruin that.

“Baby..” Harry starts,

“I know i’m so sorry but i am here to let you know that i’m a changed man. I still love you all these years. I was wrong to leave you with the baby. I’m … ready to be a father to our baby. Ready to be with you again. I promise i won’t ever leave your side again, love.” Brian says, eyes never leaving hers.

For a second, Harry’s face fell. He’s very much upset with it. With this Brian guy. The word ‘father’ coming from his mouth is just like a stab to Harry’s heart. A father?! Brian was never the father and never will be! Harry is! He loves Bella and treats her like his own daughter--because she is!-- and no one could ever replace that. 

“It’s a she” Harry butts in, glaring at him. Gently pushing y/n behind him because he can no longer see her breaks,

“What?” asks Brian dumbfounded,

“The baby is a girl. And she is not yours. She’s maybe your blood but i’m the one who’s been taking care of her, i’m the one who loves her, i’m the one who helped y/n throughout her pregnancy and i was the one who’s there when y/n gave a birth. You are not her father but I am.” Harry says, stepping forward, chest to chest with Brian.

Somehow, brian doesn’t see Harry as a threat, instead he laughs. “Call yourself whatever you want but that’s MY daughter. And I am ready to be there for her, both of them. That’s my family inside not yours.” Brian seethes. 

Harry can no longer express his anger because he was too hurt. So he pushes Brian and sternly says, “Get out.”

However Brian isn’t finished, he has something else to say but that soon cut off when you interfere,

“Get the hell out of here, Brian. You are not welcome.” you snap, feeling yourself might break down,

“y/n please…”

“No!” you yell completely exhausted by now, “get out now!” you threaten, ready to close the door.

Brian looks at her for a while to see whether she could change her mind but noticing that she won’t, he scoffs, shaking his head and back away from her before walking back to his car and driving away.

you sigh out and walk back inside the house before closing the door. Soon as you walk back in, you see your fiance standing in the middle of the living room with his head hanging down and his hands on his hips. You can tell that what happened has upset him. He is close to crying and you can’t help but feel your heart breaks at the sight.

“Harry, baby..” you call out, walking towards him and standing in front of him. Putting your finger under his chin and making him look at you. Your eyes sadden as you see his eyes beginning to get glossy. “He’s gone, baby. He left. It’s okay.”

Harry sniffles and nods his head as he looks at you. “It’s just.. I love Bella and you. He’s not her father but I am. She’s OUR baby not his. Ours. i know i may not be her real father but--”

“Stop. you ARE her real father. You may not be her blood but you have done more for her and me than he ever did. Yes, she is ours. She has always been our baby, my love. Bella calls you her dad not Brian not anyone else. She loves you. You’ve always been there for her, right? You’ve never left her side.” you say softly, placing her hands on the either side of his cheeks, thumbs rubbing softly underneath his eyes.

He begins to smile softly after what you just said to him. His heart and soul are warm now, he should’ve known that you and Bella are his family not that bloke’s. He proposed to you and Bella calls him ‘daddy’. He is so lucky. Nothing could change that ever. He was there to mend Bella’s booboo, he was there when you needed him to get groceries because you were working late and won’t be back home till 10, he was the one who was lucky enough to have a movie night every friday with Bella and you. 

He was the one who got to witness Bella’s first ballet recital with you and had her run towards him after the show was over, calling him ‘daddy!’ over and over to ask him whether she did great on the recital or didn’t, he was the one who Bella made a pancake for on Father’s Day and gifted him a ‘world’s best daddy’ drawing with him and her on the paper and lastly he was the one who gets to make love to you every night, confessing each other’s love and gets to take care of you after, cuddles you close to his chest not caring about the sweaty bodies.

“And you should know that we both love you with all of our hearts. No one could ever take that away. No one.”

[slipper007]

WIP: Sing Me To Sleep

Word Count: 2,485 (of 15000+ so far)

Tags: Destiel, Fix-It Fic, Grief and Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Ignores S15E20 Carry On, more to be added when I post the full piece

Notes: a little addition to celebrate hitting 15k words. Read the begining here. Once it's done, I'll post the whole fic here and on my AO3

As soon as they got back to the Bunker, Dean started making a home for Miracle. He gathered some spare blankets before having an epiphany: she could just sleep with him. She would love the bed, and he would love having her there with him.

It was just his luck the Men of Letters, stuffy old guys that they���d been, had some food dishes perfect for Miracle. He had seen them months ago when he had been looking for an artifact and left them in storage without another thought. He headed over to get them now only to freeze in front of the doorway.

The door to Room 7B was heavy and even standing in front of it took a toll. Mouth dry, Dean managed to put his hand on the knob but couldn’t find it in himself to open the door. He knew what waited on the other side for him, and he didn’t want to see it. The empty space, the sheer nothingness—not even goo or a coat this time—was too much.

He could get the dishes later. Better yet, he could buy new ones. Miracle would love that, wouldn’t she? She deserved nice new dishes to eat from. And while he was out, he could get her food and toys as well.

Dean went back to his room to start making space for Miracle’s things only to see himself in his mirror and freeze. There was a handprint on his shoulder, marked in blood. Slowly, Dean slotted his hand over the mark, aligning the fingers with his own.

Cas.

Dean turned away and bit his lip, hard. Tasting blood, he took his utility jacket off and folded it neatly before putting it in a drawer out of sight. He was too sober for this.

He wandered out into the library, looking for Miracle and pointedly ignoring everything else when he stopped. SW. DW. MW. His family, immortalized in the wood of the table. His fingers traced his mother’s initials absently in thought. Family didn’t end in blood, and the Bunker had been a home to far more than just the Winchesters. They deserved to have their legacy remembered, too.

Dean pulled out his pocketknife, the same one Castiel had used, back in the dungeon. Slowly, carefully, he dug it into the wood and painstakingly added two names: Jack and Castiel. They always should have been there. They should have known that they belonged. It was Dean’s fault for not including them enough, not helping them to feel seen. Maybe if he had, they wouldn’t have left. With a heavy heart, Dean remembered standing in this same library, shouting that Jack wasn’t family. He remembered nearly killing him and blaming him for things beyond his control. Just as bad was the memory of Castiel at this same table, sitting and eating a burrito and being content, happy even, just before Dean had kicked him out. That wasn’t even the worst, was it? No, he had done so much worse to Castiel, even just in the library.

What about beating him to a bloody pulp and leaving him broken on the floor? Mark or no Mark, he had done that. Even if it had taken him everything not to give in to the Mark and kill him. The Collette to his Cain, only asking him to stop. What about only a few months ago?

Something went wrong. You know this. Something always goes wrong.

Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?

Dean felt sick just thinking about it. He could vividly remember the hurt on Cas’ face and the shock that Dean had said that. It was one of his biggest fears, being a useless screw-up, only around until he was no longer useful. Dean had known that and still said it. What kind of a person did that make him? And more than that, what did that make Cas’ true happiness? How do you love someone like that, someone irredeemable? It couldn’t be love.

Castiel was wrong. He hadn’t done everything out of love. If he had, he never would have pushed Cas away.

To distract himself, Dean tore his eyes from the newly added names and caught himself thinking about adding more. Who else was family, who else had they neglected to include?

Sam came out from the hallway looking ready to have a heart to heart and Dean couldn’t take it.

“You want a beer?” Without waiting for an answer, Dean stood. “I’m gonna grab a beer.” Then he headed towards the kitchen.

“It's pretty quiet,” Sam said once Dean returned, taking the offered beer. Dean hummed in agreement.

There was a silence, so heavy that Dean almost didn’t break it. In a rough voice, he managed to say, “To everyone that we lost along the way.” He clinked his beer against Sam’s and took a swig, ending it abruptly. He needed something stronger. Vodka, maybe, or bourbon, though he wasn’t sure if they had either of those in the Bunker anymore. He had already gone through a fair amount after Cas was taken, and then even more when it was the whole world. Still, maybe he had missed a bottle somewhere. He was about to stand to search when Sam started to speak.

“You know…with Chuck not writing our story anymore, we get to write our own.” His voice lilted upwards, optimistic in a way that Dean hadn’t heard in months. “You know, just you and me going wherever the story takes us…. Just us.”

“Finally free,” Dean summed up. He thought about the last few months, his own obsession with freedom. Sam’s statement was right—it was just them. They hadn’t reached out to anyone else yet, too overwhelmed with the implications of Chuck being defeated. That didn’t change the fact that Castiel wasn’t there to share it with them. Or Jack for that matter. He had been shoehorned into the position of God, had never gotten to be a kid. Dean’s heart ached in sympathy. If anything, Jack was more trapped than ever.

Sam and Dean had gotten their freedom, but at one hell of a cost. Still, Sam looked so hopeful…. Dean could be content, or at least pretend to be, for Sam’s sake.

He clapped his little brother on the shoulder, forced a smile, and they went for a drive.

For a little while, he dared to hope that by flooring it on the open road, with music blasting from the radio, Dean might be able to escape his grief. They could go anywhere, do anything. He and Sam had earned the right to a fresh start after at least three apocalypses, but Dean didn’t know if that was what he wanted. How could he start over if his best friend was dead and their kid was gone? He might still have Sam, but what about the rest of his family? Didn’t they all deserve the chance to begin again?

There was no destination to their journey and even Dean didn’t know where they were going. All he knew was that they were going away. To distract himself from the road, he paid more attention to the music, only to balk at it. Running on Empty. He couldn’t help grimacing at that last word and turned the music off rather than changing the station.

Sam, for his part, was watching Dean, taking in and gauging his reaction. Well, what was the damn point of the drive if neither of them was enjoying it?

When they got back, Sam seemed just as disturbed as Dean felt. The world had fundamentally changed, and it was like it hadn’t. The world went on, every moment passed as though there wasn’t a throbbing ache in Dean’s chest. They had lost their son and best friend. They were alone all over again, just like those first few lonely years when they had been looking for John.

Dean hated it.

The Winchesters settled in their respective spaces—Dean in the kitchen and Sam in the library. The stash of alcohol in the kitchen was gone. Had he really drunk it all already? Dean sighed and took a beer from the fridge instead while he made dinner. He managed to find some solace in it, as he always did. It was nice to cook and bake, to wear a silly apron and ask people to “try this!” After years of living on the road and killing monsters, Dean was able to flip the script. He was able to use his hands, hands that had become accustomed to being covered in blood and gore and dirt, to do good in another way. He didn’t need to be violent anymore; he could care for his family, or what was left of it.

Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.

Dean swallowed thickly as emotion rose within him, but managed to keep pushing it down, holding it back. He would deal with it later, once he was alone in his room and sure that Sam wouldn’t walk in. He finished cooking up the burgers and took a few steps over to where he had already laid out the plates and hamburger buns.

Four plates waited to be filled. Only Sam and Dean remained.

“Going out!” he shouted over his shoulder a few heartbeats later, running up the stairway and out the door before Sam could stop him.

He didn’t make it to the liquor store. His eyes were burning and his vision swimming only minutes after he left, and rapidly he found himself pulling off onto the side of the road. Everything was too much.

Castiel was gone. He was dead, after nearly a dozen years of it not sticking. Dean had thought that maybe grieving would get easier. After all, he had lost everyone: his mother, his father, his brother, Bobby, every friend they had ever had, and so many more. It hurt like hell, every single time, but eventually he could cope. He had lost Castiel before, five deaths and countless almosts before this one. Why did it hurt worse? Every single time, losing Castiel left him emptier and emptier.

Cas was… Cas was his best friend. A pillar in his life. Someone who he could count on. Someone who should have outlived him. But he was more than that, wasn’t he? Dean hadn’t gotten the chance to reply, had hardly gotten to process before Castiel was gone. Cas loved him, and Dean hadn’t—

Dean neither knew nor cared how long he sat there. His grief only grew deeper with each minute, especially with the sheer despair of realizing that Castiel’s true happiness was what had killed him. His happiness was coming out, speaking his truth, and now he was dead. Dean ran out of tears, but ugly, breathless sobs still racked his body when he found it in himself to pull back onto the road.

The sales clerk in the liquor store gave him a look as he checked out. Dean didn’t know if it was for the volume he was buying or how fucked he undoubtedly looked. Didn’t care, either. He held off for the drive back and started drinking in the garage. Then the library. When Sam found him on his way to his room, Dean was solidly drunk and sobbing again, too far gone to care about appearances anymore. He just wanted the pain of it all to be gone.

He fought to keep the bottle of bourbon but Sam managed to take it, along with the rest. Without something in his hands, they were restless. Dean ran them over his face and through his hair before they ended up clutching at Sam’s shirt as the weight of his grief pulled him down.

“They’re… they’re jus'… gone,” he mumbled into Sam’s shoulder. “Jack… ‘nd C— Cas…”

He felt his brother’s arms close tighter around him and somehow felt worse, like he didn’t deserve it.

“I…I k-killed ‘im, Sam. He tol’… me he l-loved me, ‘nd then he was…”

Sam helped him to his room and stayed with him until he fell asleep, listening and shushing him in equal regard. With his eyes bleary and full of unshed tears, Dean thought the silhouette of Sam in the extra chair looked almost like Castiel, and he took comfort in that for a few minutes.

When Dean woke up, his heart was racing and the distorted nightmare of black goo was rapidly fading. He turned to the empty chair in his room and then to the door before seeing Miracle. She had situated herself in between his legs and was whining loudly. If he had been a little less hungover, he probably would have found it terrifying, given the number of nightmares he’d had featuring whines and growls. The sound grated against his ears but she seemed to perk up seeing him awake. Decidedly less nightmare-ish. He carefully extracted himself from his bed and ran the cold tap water over his hands and wrists, letting it ground him before washing the sweat from his face and popping a pain-reliever. He looked rough, with bags under bloodshot eyes and stubble across his jaw and cheeks. He probably smelled as well, wearing yesterday’s clothes soiled by booze and sweat. It didn’t matter much; Dean had no intention of going anywhere and lacked the energy to get cleaned up.

Miracle whined loudly again and Dean allowed himself to get back into bed to lay with her until she was a little happier. He absentmindedly scratched Miracle’s head while waiting for the throbbing ache in his head and chest to dissipate. He settled for one of the two and, after a few hours, made his way out of his room.

Sam was on the phone in the library, but upon seeing his brother put an end to his conversation. Dean didn’t know what he expected: to be chastised, perhaps, or to be forced through a heart-to-heart. Worse, to have Sam look at him with pity without saying a damn thing. Instead, his brother wrapped him in a brief hug.

“How are you holding up?”

“’M fine.”

“Dean…”

“’M fine, Sam.” Dean kept his tone stiff as he pulled out a seat, unwilling to become the sobbing mess again in front of his brother. Maybe Sam understood that, as he changed the subject after a beat.

“Hey, I talked to Jody. She and the girls are okay, and she says Donna is, too.”

“That’s awesome,” Dean said, nodding.

“Yeah. She wanted to know if we wanted to catch dinner next week sometime.”

Dean froze for a second before shaking his head adamantly. “Maybe some other time.”

“What? Why?”

“Claire. Sam, I would have to tell her that Cas….”

Sam’s face filled with understanding and his own grief. “I’ll tell her we can’t make it.”

///

AN: I swear this is gonna end happily.

Tagging some people who might be interested in the update: (ask to be added or removed!)

@becky-srs @bizzlepotter @bonkybornes @casgirl @chaoticbisexualdean @evermorecastiel @ineffable-impala @lassoted @poohkeepsee @professorerudite @theangelwiththewormstache @thiscastielhasflown

[purplesurveys]

1274

Department One: Apparel And Jewelry

What are you wearing today?  Just a white duster dress. Very loungewear-y, hahaha. I didn’t feel like wearing shorts today.

What does your favorite shirt look like?  At the moment I’m obsessed with my Vante shirt. It’s fanmade but it was made tastefully; the designs aren’t too loud and I love the cute little shoutouts and tributes to his past paintings, so it had been a ridiculously easy decision for me to want to buy it.

What kind of underwear do you prefer wearing?  Eh I don’t really have a preference as long as I don’t find them uncomfy.

What are your favorite kind of jeans?  I’m definitely still stuck in my mom jeans phase. Idk man, I just love how they match nearly all kinds of tops.

What do the last pair of shoes you wore look like?  They were adidas sneakers. Not a big fan of chunky shoes but it’s an Ivy Park and it was on a big discount HAHAHA so I didn’t hesitate to get them.

How many shoes do you own?  A little more than 10. I love shoes and wanna collect them someday...just not today, hahaha.

How much jewelry do you own?  Not too big on jewelry; most, if not all the ones I wear are just borrowed from my mom since we share the same style anyway.

Do you own any real diamonds or other expensive jewelry?  Yeah, the ones I would borrow from my mom are pretty pricey.

Has anyone ever gave you jewelry as a present?  Yes, I received rings and necklaces from my ex. One of my aunts also gave me a necklace when I turned 7.

Do you like diamonds or gemstones better?  I just stick with diamonds...which is...also a gemstone too, if I’m not mistaken.

Silver or gold?  Silver.

Department Two: Electronics

Do you have a DVD player in your car?  Not in mine, but we do have one in the family car. I used to watch movies on there often but after one grueling road trip where my motion sickness acted up, I haven’t wanted to use it since.

If you have one, what does your camera/camcorder look like?  I just use the camera in my phone but back in the day I used to have a DSLR; that was when I thought I wanted to take up photography, heh. It was a Nikon D3100.

How much did it cost?  I’m not sure since my dad gave it to me as a present, but a quick search told me it would’ve cost him around P20,000 which issssss wow more expensive than I thought.

What kind of cellphone do you have?  I have an iPhone 8 with an LCD screen that’s deteriorating by the day HAHA. I really need to get a new phone.

How often do you send texts?  I text just for work purposes now, so it really depends on how busy my accounts are. Some days would require me to send out more texts than usual.

Do you have your own computer or does your family share?  I have my own laptop. My workplace also provided me with what’s supposed to be my work laptop, but they had it sent to me when I was already a couple of months into my job and all my needed files and programs were already in my personal laptop. Since I was too lazy to start everything all over again, I’ve never actually used the work laptop haha.

How many computers are in your house?  We have three laptops in total - my siblings and I each have our own. Kind of a necessity these days.

Do you still have a VCR?  I don’t think so.

How many DVDs do you own?  We probably have around 30-50 but most of them are movies from like the 2000s that we just haven’t thrown out. Personally, I have about five DVDs of old films like Gone with the Wind, Rebel Without A Cause, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, etc, and recently I’ve been buying BTS merch so DVDs are part of that mix too.

Does your car have a GPS?  No. I use Waze on my phone instead.

What kind of iPod/MP3 player do you have? Haven’t used an iPod in like a literal decade. I use Spotify for my music.

How many songs are on it?  Spotify doesn’t work that way since it’s technically a database of songs.

What size is your TV?  Never bothered to ask/check.

How many TVs are in your house?  Four. Living room, dining room, master bedroom, my brother’s room.

What video game systems do you have?  We have a PS3 and PS4. 

What about handhelds?  Switch. I believe my sister also still has her DSi stored somewhere.

How many video games do you have?  Probably somewhere around 50-60. My dad and brother are content with repeating their games lol.

Department Three: Home

What kind of shampoo do you use?  It’s a Dove variant but I’m just blanking out on the specific name/what it does.

Soap or shower gel?  Shower gel.

What does your comforter look like?  It’s pretty colorful and has geometric shapes and lines.

Does it match your pillows?  Yep, they come in a set.

What size is your bed?  Twin.

Do you or your parents like to decorate the house with various things or is it plain?  My mom puts considerable effort in decorating the house but it’s nothing overboard that it feels tacky. There’s enough decor in enough spaces.

Does the furniture in your house match?  Sure. I imagine my mom would be very irritated if she felt something was uncoordinated at home.

What does your couch look like?  It’s a gray L-shaped couch. Gabie broke a portion of the couch’s springs when it had only spent its like first two weeks at home but surprisingly my mom has not noticed it yet; probably because she barely sits on that side.

How many does your dining room/kitchen table seat?  It has six chairs, though since we’re five one of the chairs is almost always unoccupied.

Do you have any fancy china?  No, my mom isn’t the type to collect those.

Do you have outside furniture?  Yeah we have a table and chairs up on the rooftop, if they count.

What do your curtains look like?  My siblings and I have pull-down blinds. The other rooms have these pulled-back gold curtains that’s accompanied by white sheers.

Department Four: Grocery

What kind of bread do you get?  Sliced white bread, always. Sometimes my mom will pick up pan de sal, but she gets those from a certain bakery and no longer the grocery.

What is your favorite kind of cake?  CHEEEEEEEEEESECAAAAAAAKE.

Do you get a lot of sweets from the grocery store?  Eh, nah. Not a big fan of sweets.

What kind of soda is your favorite?  Don’t like soda.

Do you drink juice? What kind?  I can take it or leave it. I wouldn’t buy it for myself.

What is your favorite chewing gum?  Doesn’t matter to me. The flavors last for only like a minute anyway.

Do you usually get candy from the check-out aisle?  Nah. Those are far more accessible so who knows who could’ve touched or tampered with them. Plus, I mentioned I don’t like sweets.

What is your favorite soup?  Miso or cream of mushroom.

Have you ever had soup when you were sick?  No. I don’t enjoy hot beverages/liquids very much so I doubt I would feel comfort from soup when I’m sick.

What are your favorite canned vegetables?  Not sure if it’s a cultural difference thing but canned vegetables kind of sound gross and I don’t think I’ve encountered those (I actually had to look it up lol). My parents always buy fruits and veggies as is.

What do you eat for breakfast?  Fried rice is a constant but my mom switches up the set of viands every time. Some of the meals she serves would be hotdogs, eggs (either scrambled, omelette, fried, or sunny-side up), corned beef, dried fish, hashbrowns, luncheon meat, tapa, and Vienna sausages. Poptarts or toaster strudels?  Poptarts. I’ve never had toaster strudel and I’m honestly not sure what that is.

What salad dressing do you prefer?  Spicy mayo.

Ketchup, mayonnaise, or mustard?  MAYONNAISE. I can live without the other two.

What kind of cookie do you like best?  I only ever eat chocolate chip.

What kind of snacks do you get at the grocery store?  Salted egg chips or Pringles. Not a big fan of snacks either. This survey is making me realize I’m way more into full meals than anything else.

Do you get the meat from the deli?  Er, we don’t have delis here. Too fancy a concept lmao. If we have them, they are most likely in those extremely upscale, boujee neighborhoods.

What is your favorite frozen dinner?  I mean my dad buys frozen meat, fish, etc, but the frozen dinner sets that I see in American culture, which I’m guessing is what’s being referred to in this question, are not common here.

Do you prefer frozen dinners to actual cooking?  I honestly can’t imagine how it’s filling, but then again I’ve never tried it. Personally, food made from scratch is still the best.

What is your favorite kind of pasta?  Fettuccine.

Do you eat meat? And if not, do you eat vegetarian meat?  Yes, I eat meat. I get vegan options if they’re accessible and affordable, but those choices are hard to come by here.

What is your favorite fruit?  Avocado is really the only one I’ll give a pass to. Everything else tastes horrible.

What about vegetable?  Broccoli, bell peppers, green beans.

Department Five: Health And Beauty

What kind of makeup do you normally use?  None. If I absolutely have to put on makeup, I will begrudgingly put on foundation, maybe some eyeliner, and lip gloss. And they will all most likely be borrowed from my sister.

Do you wear more makeup on special events?  Not necessarily.

What is your favorite makeup brand?  I wouldn’t be the right person to ask because I would just say none of them.

Do you use any acne products?  Mmm no, I just splash water on my face, really. I actually got into a conversation about skincare with my co-workers yesterday and besides the usual shocked experessions I get when people find out I don’t use products, they recommended I at least get moisturizer and sunscreen. Idk, let’s see but historically it’s been hard to convince me to invest in skincare haha.

What kind of perfume do you use?  I have one of Beyoncé’s perfumes, Heat Rush. I don’t actually know if that’s still in production but it’s been my staple for like a decade or so now.

Have you ever been on a diet?  No. I never really had to be on one.

What products do you use in your hair?  Shampoo and conditioner.

How often do you brush your hair?  Only when I have to leave the house or have an important virtual work meeting.

What do you take when you have an upset stomach?  Nothing. The toilet usually solves that for me lol.

Do you take any prescription medicine? Nope.

Department Six: Movies, Music, And Books

What is your favorite movie of all time?  It’s been Two for the Road for a solid nine years and it doesn’t look like anything’s on its way to dethroning it anytime soon.

What genre of movie do like best?  Drama. The more realistic it is, the better.

What was the last movie you watched?  It’s a Korean film called Be With You. I liked it and I cried waterfalls, but the ending was so rushed it was kind of disappointing.

What was the last movie you purchased?  I don’t buy movies. If I wanted to see a film I’ll check if Netflix has it, then if they don’t I just try to scour one of those illegal movie streaming sites that always happen to have thousands of pornographic ads hahaha.

What is your all time favorite band? Paramore. Do you still buy CDs?  Only from artists I’m an extremely huge fan of. Right now that would be BTS, so I’m catching up on all the albums they’ve released in the last eight years.

What was the last CD you bought?  I got the Butter album set, if that counts. If it doesn’t, the last full-length album I purchased was Dark & Wild.

What was the last song you listened to?  I think it was Permission To Dance.

What is your favorite book?  I haven’t found it yet.

Do you even like reading?  I used to love it a lot more, to the point that back in grade school I was known as always having a book in my hand. I just don’t know where that passion went.

How often do you read?  Nearly never. I mean...I do read fanfics, I guess; but I won’t count those.

Department Seven: Sports And Fitness

Do you own a bike/scooter/skateboard/etc.?  We do have a bike at home, but that doesn’t mean I know how to ride it. We don’t have the other two.

How old were you when you learned to ride a bike w/o training wheels?  I still don’t know how to last on a bike without training wheels heheh.

Have you ever been camping?  Nah.

How often do you work out?  Nope but at work my boss just started another fitness challenge, so I’ll probably have to get back on working out soon just because I would want to accomplish the challenge.

Are you in good shape?  Sure, I think so. I’m not like fit fit because I neveeer exercise haha, but I also don’t make it a point to constantly eat unhealthy foods or have an unhealthy lifestyle to the point that it affects my body.

Do you go to a gym?  I do not. I thought of getting a membership at the start of the year but I’m glad I didn’t push through with it because all the gyms are still closed anyway.

Have you ever been fishing?  No. Idk if it’s my kind of pastime or not.

Have you ever been on a boat?  Yeah. My country has like 7000 islands so I was bound to get on a boat at some point in my life haha.

Can you play golf?  Never seemed interesting to me so no. Even on Wii Sports I barely picked golf.

Ever rode on a golf cart?  Yeah, in resorts where we had to ride them to be taken to our room.

Would you ever go hunting?  That’s an easy no.

What is your favorite sport?  Pro wrestling or table tennis.

Ever played on a sports team?  No, my school didn’t have a table tennis varsity.

Department Eight: Toys

What was your favorite toy as a child?  Cash registers because I liked the buttons. Also Play-Doh sets that had those contraptions that would squirt out the clay in various shapes.

Do you still play with toys?  Well, no.

Do you collect any toys?  I don’t, but I’m not opposed to start buying Funko Pop figurines of people or characters I’m interested in.

Did you ever have building blocks?  Sure, but I was never creative enough for them.

Did you play with dolls?  No.

Barbies or Bratz? Which were better?  BRATZZZZZZ

What is your favorite board game?  Scrabble.

Do you like to do arts and crafts?  Hell no.

Do you think that kids now have it better than when you were young? For sure, but isn’t that kind of the goal?

[ickle-ronniekins]

clarity, george x reader

hey guys! happy new year! it’s 2020, which is crazy, ‘cause wasn’t it just 2009 like a second ago? anywho, i’m sick with a cold and am working on requests (i promise!) but i recently discovered the whole soulmate au thing and i really wanna try it soooo...here’s hoping this isn’t terrible! i posted about it yesterday about the idea but i did change some things (i rewrote the end five different times i shit you not) also ps sorry this is hella long

prompt: soulmate au; everyone has a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate

A/N: so as i’m writing this it kind of reminds me of when harry wrote to tom riddle in CoS haha. anywho—i still want the reader to be a ~magical being~ so i do still want them to go to hogwarts (does that count as an au, then? WHATEVER, lol) however even though they can write back and forth with their soulmate, there’s this lingering restriction on soulmates revealing their identities because of the impending war and voldy and stupid fucking umbridge and all this stuff so they’re sworn to secrecy, not even names, not even hints, until one of them breaks

warning(s): mentions of war, blood, bodies, anxiety, not proofread

So sorry my writing’s been sporadic. Potions is dragging, love.

The words appeared very lightly, you almost didn’t catch them at first. Grinning giddily to yourself, you pulled your journal close to you so only you could see the fragile script in front of you. Potions. With Snape. You were just in Potions with Professor Snape. Is it possible that your soulmate had passed you by on your way out of the dungeons?

Well, of course it was. The castle was only so large, after all. It was proving rather difficult to keep your identity a secret.

You wanted to know who he was the second he first wrote you and made you blush. But, there were rules. Rules you both didn’t want to follow.

Is it four o’clock yet? He asked you now.

You grinned with excitement. Each time his handwriting appeared, it filled you with an overwhelming sense of closeness to him—since this, of course, was as close as you’d gotten.

The impending war put so much worry on your heart—for you, for him.

Biting your lip, you wrote back, I reckon Snape’s class isn’t going terribly well?

A quick response appeared. It’d certainly be better—if you were here.

You wanted nothing more than to know his name, hear his voice, be there with him.

The feast anxiously awaits your arrival, you wrote back cheekily, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice and watching as a cackle of students filtered into the Great Hall. Desperately, you searched the crowd for an inkling of him. There was none, of course. You had no bloody idea. Sighing greatly, you slumped back into your seat, poking at the food on your plate. How long could you possibly keep this going? Your soulmate didn’t really feel like one, especially when you didn’t even know his name.

Are you here, in the Great Hall? he wrote. I just walked in. C’mon, any type of sign that you’re here—at least tell me the color of your hair so I can eliminate some people—that isn’t too daring, now, is it?

How you wanted to. You wanted more than anything to tell him. But the worry that pulled at your heart—it was too much.

With utmost regret, you scribbled, You know we can’t, darling.

His response wasn’t exactly what you’d wanted. What you wanted, truthfully, was maybe for him to break—for him to finally reveal himself to you in a fit of fury, because he was so irrevocably in love with you that he just couldn’t stand it anymore. You could practically feel his sadness when, after a few painful minutes, he just answered, I know...

You looked around you, anxiously searching for some type of answer, but there was none. Many around you were scribbling quickly in notebooks in front of them. It was useless, really, to search for someone you barely knew in a sea full of people.

These restrictions are bloody ridiculous, he wrote one cozy, autumnal afternoon. He was frustrated. You could tell. The pressure of his quill marks and his messy handwriting showed you just how frustrated he was. It’s not fair that they’re keeping us from one another. It drives me bloody mad.

He had already left Hogwarts. Any hope you had of maybe locking eyes with him in the Great Hall and just knowing, deep down, that he was the one...those feelings of hope we’re gone. He was even further away now than you could imagine. You were no longer under the same roof.

In the common room next to the fire, you gripped the pages of your journal tightly. You knew how he felt, of course you did. I’m sick of it too, love... Your heart ached for him.

It seemed silly, but it was the truth. How were you supposed to feel about the man you were to spend the rest of your life with when you barely knew anything at all?

An idea of sorts came to him. You could almost feel his excitement and adrenaline rush. He answered, softer now, What if, instead of in writing, we just plan to meet...

His writing trailed off. You knew he recognized the danger of this idea, with every single slip of parchment and message being watched and intercepted.

I don’t care, you know. I don’t care what they do to me. As long as I can finally meet you.

Slowly, you flipped through the many pages of your journal, reading some of your conversations with him from the past years. It had proven extremely difficult to not give any hints about your identities over the years, so of course, you reread, every single day, the hints that he had given you.

He was one of many children. He was an inventor. He inherited his mum’s love for cooking and was a damn good one, if he did say so himself. He loved Hogwarts in the wintertime. His dad was overly fascinated with Muggles and their way of living. And he was funny—really funny, but he didn’t need to tell you that. He was always making you laugh.

You fed off of these five and only things for years. Years, they had sustained you, but right now, it wasn’t feeling like enough. Nothing felt like enough.

I want you to be safe, you told him. You need to be.

And then, you wrote again. Promise me that you are. Safe, I mean.

Your answers had been more sporadic and choppy and less long and interesting. He’d told you after he’d left Hogwarts that he’d been working on something, something to ease the pain of the impending war, something that he was excited about. The glimmer of those feelings kept you afloat in what felt like a world in which you were drowning slowly.

An answer came when you were asleep. I’m safe, darling. We had a long night. Promise me you’ll focus on your classes and graduating and keeping yourself safe and sound and I promise everything will be worth it.

All these years of writing and waiting and hoping seemed to be taking it’s toll on you both. There had been days where you hadn’t talked with one another at all, days where you didn’t even have the energy to pick up you quill and write a single thing. You barely had enough energy to discuss the news of you finishing school.

He told you one stormy night that he’d gotten hurt, that he’d lost one of his ears. In a moment of panic and worry, you’d written back as quickly as you could with questions you knew he couldn’t answer. What happened? Where are you? I’ll find you, let me come and help you.

A stern “no”, and then a softer, “I’m okay, I promise,”, had not helped your nerves at all. Things were getting worse. Voldemort’s army were taking out witches, wizards and Muggles alike, one by one, as the world you knew and loved was crumbling in pieces around you.

It was an awful feeling, knowing your soulmate was out somewhere in the world, hurting—in pain—and you couldn’t do anything at all to help him.

As the war worsened, your family was tortured for information. Death Eaters had stormed your home, questioning you on the whereabouts of Harry Potter, a boy just a year younger than you, a boy whom you went to school with—but you didn’t know. It didn’t matter, though. You were left with stinging burns, open wounds, broken ribs and gashes along your arms and legs.

It’d been exactly four days since you’d written your soulmate.

Please, love, let me know that you’re okay, he pleaded. You swore you could see tear drops next to the words he’d written. You told him swiftly, with all of the energy you could muster, that you were.

It seemed as though the sky had turned permanently dark gray. Storm clouds had swallowed the world whole. There was an eerie, cool wind that sent chills down your spine, and it was quiet—too quiet—the kind of quiet it is when it’s snowing outside. But this wasn’t the good kind.

Word had gotten to you that Hogwarts was under attack. The school you grew up in was being pummeled to the ground with those that you loved inside of it. He was there, he had to be there. Maybe, just maybe, in a moment of clarity, you’d find him somehow. You hadn’t thought once—you apparated almost immediately, the pull behind your naval nearly knocking the wind right out of you, but before you’d left, you wrote him one last thing. I’m going to Hogwarts. If we don’t survive...know that I love you. Salty tears escaped your eyes and landed on the pages of your journal.

You did, of course, even though you hadn’t met yet. Love him. You knew it deep in your heart. He was your soulmate, after all, even if you didn’t survive.

But the second before you apparated, you saw scribbly, messy handwriting on the journal placed delicately on your desk. It was so quick that you almost missed it, but you know you couldn’t have dreamt it. It was all too real. My name’s George Weasley—find me as quickly as you can.

Of course you knew him. He was one of the most well known people at Hogwarts when you were in school there. Heart thumping as you landed on your feet in the middle of the Great Hall, you noticed the blood, the bodies, the debris all around you. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. What would happen now that he revealed himself?

You’d been waiting years to hear his name.

Where was he?

And you saw him, hoisting himself on top of rubble, firing spells in every which direction, with his brothers next to him. A piece of debris slid against your cheek and left a stinging burn in it’s place. You touched your fingers to it gently, only to see some blood appear. You winced and fumbled over bodies and bricks and rubble.

He knocked a Death Eater over the edge of the bridge.

“George?”

He whirled around immediately—his face tired and his eyes bloodshot and sad. There were cuts and bruises all over his head, his red hair matted down by dirt, a large gash in his arm glistening with bright blood.

“It’s you,” his voice was hoarse and dry. He brought a hand to your cheek and wrapped it around the back of your neck. His hands absentmindedly made their way through your long, messy hair. His eyes were glassy. You tried to choke back your tears.

You placed your hands against his chest. “Finally.”

A moment of clarity hit when you realized that you’d met the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

“I love you, you know—” he said in a moment of panic, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a hospital of sorts—St. Mungo’s. Everything was still hazy. You rubbed your temples, head throbbing, and swallowed. Your throat was extremely dry. You reached for the glass of water on your beside table.

There was a news clipping there. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you read slowly. There’d been a war a few months prior. Lord Voldemort was dead—he had died at Hogwarts. Wasn’t that the school you’d attended? You furrowed your brow.

Your memory was very fuzzy.

A red haired man walked slowly into the room with some sort of book in his hands.

Why did he look so familiar?

He stopped in his tracks when your eyes met his. Careful, so as not to scare you, he grinned lightly and said softly, “You’re awake.” There was a hitch in his voice.

He tried to tell you many things about your life. Your name, your age, where you went to school. What had happened during the war. That he was your soulmate. He mentioned something about journals and how he and you had communicated only through them for years. You couldn’t seem to understand. You wanted too, but you just...couldn’t. He didn’t really tell you anything about his life—just yours. Perhaps you needed to remember yours first. Having him near you gave you a sense of warmth, though.

“The doctors say she may not remember for a while, mate,” another man who looked exactly like him had whispered one afternoon. He patted his brother on the shoulder. “Maybe try and start from the beginning.”

The beginning. Had you forgotten everything from the beginning?

Panic rose in your chest.

Through a very frustrating conversation, trying to get you to remember anything at all, he reintroduced himself, as if to start new. “I’m George,” he told you.

George, you thought. Familiar. You smiled at him.

Everyday, he stayed by your side and watched as your memory seemed to improve, even slightly—bits and pieces coming back to you. You’d attended Hogwarts. Your father was a wizard, but mum was a Muggle. Your favorite class at school was Charms. But him—he was still hazy.

You could tell it was hurting him, but he’d never let on. Your heart ached.

“When did we meet?” You asked him one day, sitting up in bed and blowing on your hot soup.

He loved it when you asked him questions. “During the war, actually,” he told you. “It was only for a moment, though. Very fleeting, but very wonderful.” He smiled at you.

You grinned back at him, feeling a surge of familiarity enter your body. You reached out and placed your hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. You saw him swallow over a lump in his throat, his eyes yearning for you to remember.

And now?

You asked him, “Can I...can I read your journal?” It was the book he brought with him every single day.

Tears welled up in his eyes, he gently placed the book into your hands. “Of course you can.” He stood up and placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I’ll have a word with the doctors—I’ll be right back,”

When you were sure he was out of the room, you opened the pages. Some were ripped and tattered, but you could still read the passages and differentiate between your writing and his. I just can’t wait to spend my life with you. You’d said that. Your heart skipped a beat.

I hope you that when we finally meet, he’d written, I am going to kiss you and never stop. I know it sounds silly because we haven’t met, but I love you...more than anything in this world.

Your cheeks flushed red at the thought.

As you sat there in bed, imagining what it’d be like to press your lips to his, slowly biting your bottom lip, he sauntered back into you room and snapped you back into reality. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were smiling until he startled you.

You placed the journal gently on your bedside table and took to cooling off your soup again. George was busy tidying up around the hospital room. When you took a slow sip, it was as if your taste buds had been reawakened. “Bloody hell, this is delicious—where did you get it?”

George smiled gratefully at you. “I made it this morning,” he told you. And just like that. Clarity. “I love cooking, actually, nobody really knows that but I got it—”

“—from your mum,” you cut him off.

He stood at the other end of the room, peering at you.

“Yes,” he said.

It was like everything came back to you at once—the writing, the moment he revealed himself, the war, seeing him for the first time—it was everything. Your soulmate.

Smiling greatly, you continued. “And your dad, he—he loves Muggle things, doesn’t he? He’s fascinated by them, everything about them—and you’ve a lot of siblings, don’t you?” He’d sat down next to you and pulled your hands into his. “And you absolutely hated Potions class—” at this, he laughed through a sob. A feeling of bravery entered your body. “And you promised me that when we finally met, you’d kiss me and you’d never stop.” You inched closer to him. “Guess we never really got a chance, did we?”

With tears in his eyes, he gently caressed your cheek and glanced longingly from your eyes to your lips. With a tiny nod from you, he laughed into the kiss that was years in the making. You felt like you were reentering your body. He kissed your forehead, your jawline, your neck, your shoulders, your hands— “You remember,” he said quietly.

You let out a soft hum as you pulled him close again. He gave you the most genuine and heartwarming smile when you told him, “I could never forget the man I love. I just can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane

other tags: @toranyx @wolfwistleweasley @t1nycak3 @hyuangel @iluvharrypotter172

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! :)

[bananxjin]

Trophy Wife || 5-1

↦ Coworker!Seokjin x Reader

↦ WC: 6,349

↦ Drama || Angst || Fluff || Slow Burn

↦ Trigger Warnings: Insecurity, Verbal abuse, Intrusive thoughts?

↦ Tagged: @lysannnnaa​, @vanillanjin​

↦ Summary: You thought you knew what you wanted – You were sure you knew what you wanted. You thought the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage with your fiance, Touru Kim; the love of your life, the future father of your children, and the man of your dreams, but things happen. Events begin to unfold, and the relationship falls apart. You see the true colors of your husband-to-be, and you realize that maybe he’s not what you built him up to be. With everything laid out in front of you, you knew the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage.

Just not with Touru.

(A/N: Uuuhhh, I’m no chef, and I have no experience cooking for someone who’s sick. Everything I’ve written is purely for entertainment, and never take my “advice” on uuhhh.... anything. On an unrelated note, this chapter is for @bangtanlalaland​ for kicking my ass into gear and convincing me to post this <3 Ily sweets!)

✨ Masterlist ✨

“Ah! Fuck…” “Oh my god, are you okay?” “Ugh. Yeah, I’m fine.” “Please be really careful! I don’t want you to hurt yourself!” “I said I’m fine, Jin!” “Next time you can take this side, and I’ll walk backwards!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not made of glass, Jin. It’s not going to kill me if I get a few cuts and scrapes.” You reminded him, slowly hauling the dark wood bookshelf up another step.

The two of you had been at it for the last couple of hours, packing the heavy furniture into the back of his roommates truck and bringing it over to his new place. Although the apartment he’d been living in with his roommates was so nice, he insisted, “It gets old living with people after a while, ya know?” Then shyly added on as an after thought, “And I’m getting real sick of Hobi’s one night stands every other week.” Which turned you both into blushing messes. You’d decided not to ask anymore questions.

You explained your car-less situation to Jin the night before, and he was more than happy to accommodate your needs. Not only coming to pick you up, but being kind enough to wait until Touru had left for work. Really left. As in making Jin wait an additional two hours after Touru had pulled off your street. Just out of sheer paranoia that somehow, he’d catch you in your web lies. Jin didn’t complain about the wait, he was just happy to have the extra set of hands to get the work done.

No, Jin didn’t need to question why you were being so funny about Touru. He liked to think he’d connected the dots pretty well after watching your reactions when talking about him and his family. Touru’s just a jealous guy, and he gets that; he’s gotta protect you. You’re his gorgeous fiancee after all, and he didn’t want to lose you. Of course, that didn’t do anything to deter Jin’s major crush on you, but he understood.

“Okay, swing it to the left.” You huffed, “As far as you can swing it.” Jin complied, waddling to the far corner of the hallway. You struggled to pull it through without nicking the doorframe nor the bookcase. You were almost worried it wouldn’t fit through the doorway, but with enough determination and another push, you two somehow managed to squeeze it into his bedroom. “Okay. Where are we setting this baby?”

“Over here.” Now taking control, he wiggled his way around to the other side of the room. With your help maneuvering the bookshelf upright, it now sat nice and pretty right next to his closet. “Ah, there we go! That looks wonderful.” He said, dusting his hands on his jeans. “Are you okay? Let me see your hand, that sounded painful!” He exclaimed, taking your left wrist between his hands. You just rolled your eyes again. A dramatic groan passed your lips. “I’m fine, dad.”

“Don’t sass me.” He mockingly warned, smiling at you before he was drawn back to your arm, checking it at every angle to make sure there was no scratching or bruising. “Seriously. You nearly crushed your arm between that giant behemoth and the wall. I just don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“If anything, I’d get hurt from being careless. You don’t need to worry so much.” You slid your arm out of his hold before playfully booping him on the nose with the same hand, causing him to smile at you. “Why don’t you set your bed frame up, and I’ll go put your food away.” You suggested, nodding towards his bare mattress leaning against the wall.

“Sounds good. It shouldn’t take me too long!” He chirped happily. “After that, we just have the futon and my clothes left. Then we should be done.” You smiled and nodded at him.

“Well if you need me, I will be in the kitchen!” You gave him a brief smile before disappearing around the corner to make your grand exit back down the L-shaped staircase. You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans once you got to the bottom, quickly reading through your texts before you got started.

You: “Okay, I’m getting on the train now. Yuna said she’ll meet me at the station.”

You: “I should be home by fiveish tonight. Lmk if your work schedule changes. I love you!”

Touru: “❤” Touru: “Did Yuna pick you up?” Touru: “Hello?” Touru: “You need to start leaving your ringer on so you can text me back /:” Touru: “Alright. I’ll be on my lunch break in two hours. Talk to you then.”

You also noticed the four consecutive missed calls, but you knew better than to call him back at this point. You sighed and sent a quick apology, telling him you’ve been busy moving all morning, then got to work stocking Jin’s new kitchen.

You had to remind yourself that Touru’s always been like this, and it’s not because he knew you were actually with Jin. With your mind and hands preoccupied, the anxiety had actually settled for the morning and most of the afternoon, chatting it up with Jin and offering interior design advice when asked. You can’t be upset when you’re busy, right? Now that you were alone with nothing but a box of perishables and a couple kitchen utensils, you couldn’t think about anything but your fiance.

You kept telling yourself that Touru’s always been the overbearing type, and you’re getting worked up over nothing. It felt like you’re always reminding yourself of your fiance’s little quirks these days, and yet, you continue to put yourself in situations like this one. Situations where you’re going behind his back, and thus kicking his overbearing ways into overdrive, so could you really blame him? On the other hand, you shouldn’t have to choose between your friend and your fiance. It’s not like you even had anything to hide, you’re not doing anything that would make you unfaithful.

Maybe you should take a step back and try to see it from his eyes.

You did lie to him so you could help Jin today.

You sighed, imagining what Touru would say -- How Touru would react if he knew where you really were. Touru’s never been the violent type, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he very well may knock Jin on his ass if he ever found out about today, but not before tearing into you. Although you don’t think he’d ever lay a hand on you, thinking about it still put you on edge.

Why couldn’t you just stand your ground with him? You knew Touru had his own friends. Or at least you’re pretty sure he still had his own friends. These days, he doesn’t go out with them much. Back when he was in high school, he had a whole slew of people he hung around with. Several of the girls in his group would flock to him, but you didn’t remember getting jealous all too often. Maybe a little insecure, and you’d end up bickering about that, but he’d end up reassuring you in the end.

You haven’t reassured him in a bit.

You pursed your lips at the nagging thought, hopping on your tiptoes so you could reach one of the high shelves. It’s not like reassuring did either of you any good when it came to Jin, though. It’s like his name could come up, and the air in the room would change at the drop of a dime. You’ve reminded Touru several times you only love him, but you’re always met with, “I know, but…”

But…

It’s always ‘but’.

“But you see him everyday.” “But you talk about him all the time.” “But are you sure he doesn’t like you?” “But I saw you with him when I picked you up.” “But sometimes you act like you like him more than a friend.”

But, but, but, but, but!

The excuses just kept coming and coming, and it was starting to get exhausting having to defend yourself all the time. It was starting to scare you, really. There’ve been several sleepless nights where you’ve lied there contemplating your relationship. The stability especially. If Touru felt like he couldn’t trust you, then what was the point? And why wouldn’t he talk to you about it instead of his sister, or whoever?

You once tried to ask him why he wasn’t worried about any of your other male coworkers when you brought them up, but that started another argument. “I don’t know, should I be worried, (Y/n)?!” He yelled. “It’s starting to feel like you enjoy spending your time with them more than you enjoy spending your time with me!”

To which you blatantly pointed out that all five of his closest assistants were women, and he really does spend more time at work than he ever does with you, but he was offended that you’d even mention that. “They’re all married and would never look at me like that! They actually have some respect for my relationship!” He’d retorted. “Do I have to remind you how tiresome my career is? Do you think I enjoy sitting down and looking at numbers and spreadsheets everyday? Or going to meetings and discussing the same numbers with corporate? Day in and day out?” He yelled. “I do what I have to do so I can take care of us, (Y/n). To pay for this fucking house and give us a good life and pay for that fucking wedding!” As if his work schedule was the problem. You ended up walking away after a while because you didn’t want him to see you cry. You crying amidst an argument never ended well.

Like he had any right yelling at you about money problems…

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, reminding yourself that it was just another rough patch. Especially now that it felt like your wedding was just over the horizon, it was taking a toll on both of you. You had a long road ahead as the two of you were getting ready to start your lives together.

It’s fine; it’s completely normal. All couples go through this stage. Especially couples who’ve been together as long as you two have.

You stepped away from the counter after stocking the last few boxes so you could stretch, arching your back until it cracked in just the right spot, causing you to moan out.

“Ooh, that feels so good…” “Hey--”

You yelped, turning towards Jin who was leaning against the archway of the kitchen with a soft smile on his face. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckled when you playfully scowled at him. “I’m done with the bed. We can go get the futon if you’re ready.”

And so you guys headed back out, taking the elevator to the garage, and hauling the futon back up to the third floor. Unfortunately for you both, the futon didn’t come apart, so it would have to go up in one piece. You worried for a moment you might have to carry it up all those flights of stairs, but you two managed to stand it upright and just barely shove it in the elevator with you.

Although it was a tight squeeze and definitely took some work, you and Jin made it work. Perhaps the only downside was being squished chest to chest with your coworker. He gave himself a double chin trying to look down at you with a goofy smile. “We’re like three peas in a pod, huh?” He giggled. “Just you, me, and this stupid couch that Yoongi insisted I took.”

You smiled at his faux frustration with his friend. “Let’s just hope the elevator doesn’t break down on us now. I’m not sure how long I could stand here with that metal piece jabbing me in the leg like this.”

“Ah, if it comes to that, I’ll find a way to switch sides with ya. Then It can jab me in the leg.” He winked.

True to his word, Jin insisted he be the one that would walk the furniture backwards this time. The futon wasn’t nearly as heavy as the bookshelf had been, but you were starting to get worn out. You made the poor decision of wearing a wool sweater today. You thought you would still get cold despite all the moving, but all you could focus on now was how uncomfortable you felt with the cold, damp fabric laying against your back.

Finally dropping the futon off in it’s designated spot, you straightened your back and shook out your sweater a bit in an attempt to dry it. “Thank god we’re done with the furniture, huh?” Jin giggled, plopping down on the couch to take a breather. You smiled, opting to sit on the arm instead of sitting right beside him. “It’s a nice little workout.”

He nodded in agreement. “Hey, I wanted to thank you again for helping me. I know you didn’t have to do this, but…” He cleared his throat. “I really appreciate it. And I hope it didn’t cause too many problems between you and your fiance.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Hey, don’t sweat it. It’s what friends are for.” He smiled shyly and looked away from you. “Okay. There’s like, five boxes of clothes downstairs, I think. We can haul those upstairs and then I’ll run ya home, okay?” He groaned as he stood up off the couch.

You smiled. “Sounds good! Actually, if you want-- Ah!”

The tip of your boot caught on the busted leg of the futon as you moved towards the door, causing you to trip, but Jin jumped forward to catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist in a protective hold while your hands immediately jutted out to grasp his biceps for safety. “Yah! What did I tell you about being careful!?”

You chuckled in relief as you looked up at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Any words you meant to say had died on your tongue as you finally caught his eye. The way he gazed at you with hooded eyes and parted lips was reminiscent of the way he’d watched you in the stockroom that night. The way he’d made you shiver with want. The way his fingertips burned on your skin, or how you longed for him to kiss you. You could feel the way both yours and his chest were rising and falling in sync. The way his warm breath brushed against your lips each time he exhaled.

It seems God’s given you a second chance.

You couldn’t help but notice his flushed cheeks, or how his hair was sticking every which way. Probably from tousling it one too many times. Your fingers tingled with a burning desire to reach up and fix it for him. Brush it back behind his ear, feel the silky strands along your fingertips. Anything just so you could touch him a little more, but you didn’t move a muscle.

His eyes shift for a moment, brows furrowing in concentration as his pupils trace out the shape of your face, memorizing every freckle, line, and detail. Even after such a long day's work, you still managed to look beautiful as ever. He loved how bright your cheeks looked in the sunset glow. His eyes trailed down to your lips, entranced by their shape and in the way they’re parted. He wanted to believe he was the reason you were blushing; wanted to believe so badly that you wanted to kiss him just as bad as he wanted to kiss you.

You grew the tiniest bit insecure beneath his gaze feeling very much aware of how gross you may look despite the cold weather outside. You’d give anything to know what he was thinking right now, but your voice was lost on you. You were too wrapped up in Jin -- Both literally and figuratively to think about anything other than him.

Jin. Jin. Jin...

Your eyes lingered on his lips for a moment before you’re reaching out to hold his cheek in the palm of your hand. To your surprise, he leaned his cheek further into your touch, letting his eyes drift close. “You’re so warm.” He breathed against your skin. You could just faintly feel the movement of his lips against your hand as he spoke.

“You are, too.” You rasped. “You’re really warm… Are you shivering?” You ask in a hushed tone, voice laced with concern.

Jin tried, and failed to suppress a chuckle. “I thought we were having a moment, and now you’re worried about me.”

Your hand that’d been pressed to his cheek was now pressed to his forehead. “You’re feverish.” You shook your head, taking him by the arm and dragging him back to the couch. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“(Y/n), you really don’t have to worry. It’s not a big deal--” But it was too late. You’d already rushed to the bathroom, digging through the singular box that read “Bathroom supplies” but you came up empty.

“Where’s your medicine?” You hollered. “I don’t have any. I don’t usually get sick.” Jin yelled back, nearly hacking up a lung as a result. Okay, maybe he was worse than he thought.

“God, I thought you were smarter than that, Jin.” You sighed, heading towards the stairwell. “You left the linen box upstairs, right?” He nodded, but you were already heading up, not even heeding him a second glance. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him suddenly when another thought crossed his mind. Oh no, what if she’s angry at me?

Your footsteps echoed in the stairwell as you reappeared in the living room carrying his king size comforter. “(Y/n), I’m really sorry. You really don’t have to do this for me--”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” You asked as you pulled him up a bit so you could drape the comforter around his body. “You’re the one that got sick.”

“Yeah, but you’re trying to take care of me--” “It’s because I care about you, dummy.”

You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and that shut him up real quick. Jin watched you absently as he continued to mull over your words. He knew you cared about him; you cared about him the same way he cared about you, but actually hearing you voice it out loud was making his heart race. He felt something akin to when your plane first takes off, and you feel that little tickle in the pit of your belly. Except this time, the girl he liked told him she cared about him. And that tickle was by no means little.

“Good thing I unpacked your kitchen earlier, huh?” You laughed from the other side of the wall, breaking Jin out of his trance. “I mean, I’m glad your milk isn’t spoiled, but now I know where everything is hidden because I’m the one that put it there.” You giggled.

He smiled at the thought. You and him moving all his shit into his new apartment had felt so domestic. Yeah, you did know where everything was now, didn’t you? He was weirdly happy about that. He could just barely see you around the corner, standing at the oven stirring something in a small pot. You danced around his kitchen collecting whatever you needed, humming a little tune to yourself as you did so.

You looked so natural standing in his space. Like you were meant to be there, and Jin wondered for a moment if this is what things would be like if you two were a couple. Earlier, you’d gotten a little bit too warm from constantly moving around, and he watched the way you’d effortlessly thrown your hair into a ponytail and shoved the sleeves of your sweater up. It was such a normal, human thing to do, but seeing you do it had him swooning.

‘She looks so cute in that sweater…’

‘It only makes me wish she’d wear my sweaters like that.’

He blushed at the thought and snuggled further beneath his blanket, pulling it up around his cheeks. It was still a stressful day, and both of you definitely had your moments of frustration, but having you around made everything so much easier. You guys were talking about Christmas on the way over, and you told him a little more about your mom and what it was like growing up in a town like this. He loved it. He felt like such a starved man, and the only thing that would fulfill his hunger; his only saving grace was you. Learning more and more about you. Oh, he thrived on it.

He knew it was wrong and incredibly selfish of him. To ask you to do something like this on one of your days off when you probably could’ve spent it with Touru. Hell, you could’ve spent it working on something you’d enjoy much more, but he couldn’t help himself. He craved you. He wanted to be wrapped up in a blanket made purely of (Y/n) and never have to leave. But that was all a pipe dream. He didn’t have the heart to come in between your relationship. No matter how jealous he might be of Touru, or how much he may have disliked him…

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“Sorry it took me so long.” You sighed, carrying a steaming bowl with both hands as you sat beside him. You placed the bowl on your knee and blew on the spoonful of soup.

“Open up!” You smiled, holding the spoon out to Jin, which only made him blush more. “I-I can feed myself, you know!” He stuttered, but you just shrugged. “C’mon. Humor me.”

He complied with you just this once, refusing to look you in the eye as you dipped the spoon into his mouth. He thought he knew what he was expecting, but it seemed you were just filled with surprises as the liquid that touched his tongue tasted like anything but chicken noodle soup.

“Ugh! Hot!” “Ah, I’m sorry! I thought it was cool enough--” “No, no! It’s so spicy!” He cried while taking deep breaths, desperately trying to cool his mouth off. You set the bowl down and ran off to retrieve a glass of water, which he nearly chugged half of in one gulp. “Oh my god, what did you put in that?”

“It’s chicken noodle soup with spicy chili peppers.” You said. “Well… In this case, chicken noodle soup with chili powder, black pepper, and hot sauce. You didn’t have any fresh chili’s so I had to make do.”

Jin swallowed another mouthful of water before setting it off to the side. “My mom used to make spicy soup for me anytime I got sick. It may not taste the greatest, but it’ll break that fever of yours and clear those sinuses right up!” You said cheerfully as you sat next to Jin once again, pulling the soup into your lap. Jin was quick to take the bowl away from you so he could feed himself at his own pace.

“Th-thank you.” He mumbled, preparing his poor tongue for another dreadful spoonful. “I can’t guarantee I’ll finish all of it…”

“Oh, that’s okay! You don’t have to! Just enough until you feel yourself sweating.” You giggled, taking his water cup to refill it. “You probably have to do this for Touru too, don’t you?” He sounded guilty, and maybe a little too jealous, but you didn’t seem to notice. You just shook your head no. “I would! But Touru goes to the doctor if he even so much as sneezes too many times. He won’t allow himself to get sick.”

Huh. Jin hums. Wimp.

“Why are you doing all of this for me?” “I already told you it’s because I care about you.” He cleared his throat. “No, I know that. I mean… You don’t gain anything from helping me like this. Not with moving and especially not taking care of me.”

You rolled your eyes. “God. Does everybody have to expect something in return when they do favors for people?”

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that!” You shook your head. “Sorry, I wasn’t directing that towards you.” You sighed. “It just reminded me of something my mother-in-law said a couple years ago. It… Really pissed my mom off.”

Jin frowned. “What’d she say?” You shrugged. “She asked Touru if he was sure about me. Because I can’t give him anything other than children.” Your voice was almost a whisper, looking down as you picked at your nails so you wouldn’t have to look Jin in the eye. “Mom and I weren’t very financially sound while I was growing up, and I think Touru’s mom looks down on us for that.”

“She said that in front of you?” “In front of my mom.” You corrected him. You shrugged. “It’s whatever, ya know? I don’t care what his parents think about me. He loves me…”

Jin swiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb, “Touru at least stood up for you though, didn’t he?”

“Not really, I don’t think.” You answered honestly. “If he did, he didn’t tell me. Then again, he doesn’t really speak out against his parents. I mean, I get it. He’s inheriting his father's company in a couple of years. He needs to stay on their good side and all…”

Jin took a deep breath, trying to carefully construe his next words, but he was coming up empty. What could he possibly say that didn’t make him sound angry? Infuriated? Not just with Touru’s parents, but Touru himself. You’re supposed to be the love of his life; how could he ever stand for anyone to treat you that way, especially his own parents. Jin could only hope Touru wasn’t treating you the same way.

“It all evens out, though! I mean, my mom can’t stand him, so… Anyway!” You chirped, breaking the intensity of the conversation. “To answer your question: I don’t need a reason to do nice things for you, or anyone really. If I’m doing something for you, it’s only because I care about you.” You giggled. “There is no ulterior motive and I don’t expect anything in return, okay?”

Jin watched you sadly as you took the bowl from him. He knew you were hurting, so why wouldn’t you lean on him for support? “Let’s get you into bed, yeah? You’ve done plenty of work today, and you need the rest.” You wrapped an arm around his bundled up waist. Despite the spicy soup and giant blanket, you could still feel his body was shivering beneath the thick fabric. It was nearing six o’clock at this point, but you still wanted to stop by the corner store to grab Jin some medicine before you left.

Touru will be fine with leftovers. It’s one night, it won’t kill him.

With you by his side and a heavy blanket to boot, Jin waddled up the stairs carefully as he could not to trip you up. “She’s wrong, you know?” Jin mumbled under a shaky breath, “Touru’s mom.” You smiled at him. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “So wrong.”

You guys made it halfway up the second flight of stairs before Jin added, “Touru’s a really lucky guy, you know?” You blushed. Hearing such kind words from Jin wasn’t uncommon, but your heart still screamed with joy every time he complimented you or offered you words of support.

“What am I saying?” He tsked himself,  “Of course you know, you’re the wonderful woman he’s marrying after all.”

Jin...

You faltered a bit, but Jin was quick to grab your arm, steadying you. You quietly thanked him as  you shuffled into the room in front of you, arm in arm. He smiled as you guided him to lay down. Your hands shook just the tiniest bit as you took the king size blanket from him so you could throw it over his form. He kept smiling, eyes never straying from your face. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you.” He cooed softly.

You swallowed thickly as you tucked the blanket around him before sitting on the bed beside him.

‘Don’t do this to me, Jin. It’s unfair.’

It was much darker in his room with only the hall light to illuminate your view. He closed his eyes as you felt his forehead again, gently dragging your hand up so you could push his hair off his face. He didn’t feel as warm as he did earlier, but you were still worried about him. “I’m going to get you some medication before I head out for the night. Is there anything else you need?” You whispered. Jin frowned and sat up, but you were quick to push him back down.

“It’s getting dark out. I really should--” “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jin. I’d rather you stayed in bed.” You frowned. “But I’m worried about your safety.” He frowned back, but you shook your head. “I take the train back and forth all the time. I’ll be fine.” You reassured him. “Do you want anything else?”

He shook his head no. “You’ve already done more than enough for me, (Y/n). I’ll be okay.” You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair again. It felt soft and fluffy. You silently wished you and Jin had met under different circumstances. You hoped that in another life, you two were able to enjoy a life of domestic bliss together. Maybe it was selfish of you to feel this way, but right now, you wanted nothing more than to climb into bed with him and run your fingers through his hair all night. Just talking and cuddling with him until the two of you would finally fell asleep in each other's arms.

But he’s not yours. And you’re not his, you reminded yourself.

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing I didn’t do as much as I could to help you.” You whispered. Your eyes fall on his plump lips again. His gorgeous lips which were always smiling for you, even now when he’s not feeling his best.

Whoever ends up marrying Jin is going to be the luckiest person in the world.

Hopefully he’ll end up with someone who makes him as happy as he makes others.

You hesitated for a moment before leaning in, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I’ll leave the bag on your doorknob, okay?” You whispered, leaning in close to his ear.

Jin shifted a bit under your weight, nodding stiffly.

“Y-yeah.” He stuttered, “That’s fine.” You nodded, gazing longingly at the beautiful tuft of hair splayed out over his pillow. Just one more time, you bargained, slowly dragging your fingers through his silky stands. Jin closed his eyes, dozing off to the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. The two of you sat there in each other's company, silently hoping for another opportunity like this in your future, never quite telling the other that you’d rather spend the rest of your nights together, just like this.

The next time Jin would open his eyes again, you’d be gone.

__

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Your calves burned as you raced down the street, feeling like the very bones that carried you may collapse underneath your weight, but you needed to get home as soon as possible. The sun had gone down over an hour ago, your train ended up arriving half an hour late due to maintenance, and your phone died before you even got to the train station, but you didn’t need your phone to tell you how royally fucked you were.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Touru demanded the second you got through the front door. You dropped your bag and keys on the table, trying to take a second to catch your breath before staking your defense. The bright red numbers on your oven caught your eye almost immediately.

7:42 PM. Nearly two hours after Touru got home from work.

“I was--” You coughed, “with Yuna--” “There’s no way you were still helping Yuna this late at night!” You shook your head no, “I’m sorry. Yuna took me out for dinner as a thank you.” You lied. “I meant to text you, but my phone died, and the train…”

You finally met Touru’s angry glare. You knew there was nothing you could say to calm him down. Nothing that would make it better, so you backed down. You couldn’t handle it when he looked at you like that -- Like there was a raging fire in his eyes, and you were the cause of it. It hurt you too much; brought you to the brink of tears, but you refused to cry in front of him. Instead, you crossed your hands in front of yourself and hung your head in shame. “I’m really sorry…”

Touru scowled at you. “Well big thanks for the heads up! I’m glad I got my own takeout seeing as how you had no intention of making dinner tonight!” He shouted, angrily bumping his shoulder into yours as he walked past you. You stood stiff as a board in the middle of the kitchen, listening to his angry footsteps clamber across the hardwood floor until finally the bedroom door was slammed shut.

You felt like a limp noodle as you finally found the strength to move your legs. Kicking your shoes off near the sliding glass door and dragging your feet to the living room. You didn’t have the strength nor the patience to face Touru a second time tonight. You laid the blanket out on the couch and hooked your phone up on the charger. You kicked your leggings off and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the corner of the room.

At least the sweater is dry now.

You snuggled underneath the blanket, watching with squinted eyes as your phone turns back on. Your throat felt dry, and your eyes stung as the tears began to cloud your vision. You laid your phone screen down on the couch and tried furiously to rub them away.

You lied to Touru, and now you’re suffering the consequences. You were in the wrong, and you have no right to cry.

The negative thoughts just flooded in, one after the other, scolding you, berating you, reminding you that you fucked up. How could you act like you’re the victim? You couldn’t stop them no matter how much you wanted to, and it only made you cry harder. Even with your knuckles shoved into your eyes, pleading with yourself to calm down, the tears continued to flow effortlessly, drenching your cheeks and creating a small wet spot on the fabric beneath your face.

You tried to cocoon yourself in the featherlight quilt to suppress the full body shakes that just kept rolling over you. Even shoving your body closer to the back of the couch, trying to bury yourself against the cushions, but nothing worked. You choked on your hiccup, and it was what finally forced you to get up and get a drink of water. Anything to calm you down because if Touru knew how upset you were, how hard you were crying now, things would be so much worse.

With nothing but the oven lights accompanying you in the kitchen, you filled your glass and gulped down a full glass of water, then another. It was enough to stabilize your breathing again, but you were still shaking a bit. You cleaned the glass and took a moment to splash some cold water on your face before heading back to the couch.

You took a deep breath as you laid back down, reassuring yourself that tonight was just a stroke of bad luck, and you shouldn’t let it bother you. That’s easier said than done though, especially when you’re going to bed on an empty stomach and a broken heart. You checked your phone before setting it aside for the night.

Jin: “Thank you for the goodies bag, and thank you for being such a good friend to me! I’m feeling much better now thanks to you! Did you get home alright? Jin: I’m going to assume you did, and you’re all tucked up into bed now 💕 Sleep well tonight, okay?”

A new wave of tears washed over you as you read Jin’s messages over and over. A strange feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Something unwanted, but not quite like nausea. You typed out a response, but quickly deleted it. You did this several more times, before deciding you just wouldn’t respond. Nothing felt right to say. Part of you really, really wished you would’ve stayed at his apartment with him. What was one more lie gonna hurt? You could’ve said Yuna moved way out of town, and it was too late to take the trains. All of that just so you’d have the opportunity to talk to Jin just a little bit longer. Just to avoid this emotional downfall. Just to fall asleep feeling comforted by someone else’s warmth. Comforted in knowing they cared about you as much as you cared about them.

Quit being so selfish. You shouldn’t go running off into another man’s arms just because you had a disagreement with your fiance.

You ignored the intrusive thoughts, telling yourself you’re allowed to indulge in these selfish wants in the name of anger. As long as you didn’t act on anything, you’d be safe. You wiped your hand over your cheeks one last time before wrapping yourself up in the blanket and closing your eyes for the night. You fell asleep imagining you were being held in Jin’s embrace.

[enchantedxrose]

The Monster of West End: Chapter Four (follow the link to read on AO3)

A retelling of the fairy tale set in the early Victorian Era.

Viola Weston is desperate to pay off her family's debts. Stubborn and self-reliant, she would rather look for work than seek an advantageous marriage. She is utterly unprepared for her eccentric new employer's beastly appearance--but quickly charmed by his warm heart and cheerful disposition.

Albert Carlyle is lonely: cursed from birth with a monstrous form, but coldly tolerated by society for his wealth. People are afraid of him, no matter how hard he tries to make himself agreeable. He has resigned himself to a quiet life collecting butterflies and ignoring judgmental whispers--until Viola upends his comfortable, complacent existence.

Can Viola set aside her pride long enough to accept his help? Can Albert find the courage to make his affections known? Or will the cruelties of the world tear their budding relationship apart?

          Miranda insisted on accompanying Viola to the courtyard, on the pretense of helping her carry her meager luggage. From the firm grip her sister kept on her arm, Viola knew she was hoping to speak privately to her. The intense questions began as soon as they were out of their father’s earshot, though the elder sister maintained a veneer of polite curiosity.

           “So. Covent Garden. Your employer must be quite well off. New money, I expect?”

           “I believe so. I didn’t interrogate him on the subject.”

           “Does he have any family in London? Where are his people from?”

           “I have no idea. All I know is that he lives alone, so I assume he is unmarried.”

           Miranda raised her eyebrows. “A bachelor? Is he very old?”

           “No, I shouldn’t say a day over five-and-twenty.”

           Viola didn’t know why that reply had slipped out (in truth, it was difficult to tell Mr. Carlyle’s age given his unusual appearance) but she wished her sister would come to the point, instead of pursing her lips in silent disapproval.

           Conversation halted as they came to the front gate of the prison. The gatekeeper nodded civilly to them both as he let them out onto the cobblestone street, where Eustace Stubbs was keeping a carriage waiting for them. As usual, Miranda hardly spared her drab, colorless husband a glance as he helped the women into the cab.

           Viola had yet to unravel Miranda’s reasoning for marrying Eustace—she seemed to regard him with more annoyance than affection, and that was when she noticed him at all. He was a clerk in a solicitor’s firm, and in his seven years there, had yet to advance or distinguish himself in any way. He tended to blend in with the very wallpaper of their home.

           Perhaps Miranda had simply allowed Eustace to rescue her from the family troubles. After all, she now had a comfortable enough roof over her head, and was able to send a few shillings to the imprisoned Mr. Weston every month. But now with a child on the way, Viola doubted they could even set aside that much.

           “You seem to know very little about your new employer,” Miranda observed as they settled into their seats. It was a tight fit: the carriage was only meant to accommodate two passengers. “Did you not ask any questions about his background?”

           Viola colored slightly, but she tried to maintain a cool demeanor. “It seemed impertinent to pry, and I didn’t wish to be rude. Especially not when he had behaved so graciously toward me.”

           Miranda frowned, perplexed. “These are perfectly ordinary inquiries—why on earth should that be impertinent?”

           Viola shrugged, trying to end the conversation by staring out the window as though fascinated. What could she say? She could not even find the words to describe her employer’s curious visage—her sister would think she had gone mad.

           “Vi, please be careful,” Miranda said in a low voice. “Promise me. You’ve never been away from home for such a stretch of time.”

           “You don’t need to worry about me so much. Mr. Carlyle is a gentleman and he’s been very kind to me already.”

           “People aren’t always what they seem.”

           That bleak warning hung in the air between them for a moment. They both knew exactly who Miranda was thinking of, though neither wanted to speak his name.

            “It’s stopped snowing,” Eustace observed softly, more to himself than to Miranda and Viola. “Hopefully they can begin clearing the roads.”

           Neither sister took up this feeble attempt at a new conversation topic. A frigid silence pervaded the rest of the journey.

           “Vi, I know you can look after yourself,” Miranda said at last, twisting her gloves in her hands. “I know this must all sound patronizing from your point of view. I am only asking you to be careful. It’s a dangerous world for a woman alone.”

           “I’m quite aware,” Viola snapped. Miranda’s direful warnings were not exactly encouraging, and Viola resented the constant reminders of her vulnerability.

           But their father’s gentle admonition rang in her ears: Be kind to your sister. Through the haze of her annoyance, she felt a stab of guilt in her stomach. She inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to regain her composure.

           “I’m sure you mean well, Miranda,” she said at last. “But things are finally beginning to look up for our family. I suppose I had rather hoped you would be more excited about my prospects.”

           Before Miranda could respond, the carriage lurched to a halt. She peered curiously around the curtains.

           “This is the house here? Number twelve, with the green shutters?” She appraised it with wide eyes.

           “Yes it is,” said Viola, unable to suppress a hint of smug satisfaction: her sister was impressed at her employer’s house. “Well. Goodbye, Miranda, I shall see you for dinner on Sunday.”

           “Eustace, will you bring her luggage to the door?”

           “That’s—that isn’t necessary,” Viola said quickly, heart racing. What if they caught a glimpse of Mr. Carlyle himself? What would her sister have to say about that? She scooped up her carpetbag and jumped from the carriage before they could say another word. Her palms were sweating so excessively that her bag nearly slipped from her grasp as she strode toward the front door.

           What had come over her? She wasn’t embarrassed of Mr. Carlyle, was she? Why had she been so eager to hide him from her family?

           She felt suddenly sick with herself.

           Viola’s abstraction prevented her from noticing that there was already a figure on Mr. Carlyle’s threshold: a young woman dressed in plain muslin, hunched over as she scrubbed something off the door. She seemed quite engrossed in the task, so Viola cleared her throat loudly to make her presence known.

           “Good morning,” Viola called cheerfully. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work—”

           The maid startled, clutching her heart. “I didn’t see you there, Miss.”

           Up close, Viola could see now that the maid was just a girl—scarcely fifteen or sixteen—and though her hands were chapped and her arms quite muscular from hard work, she had a plump, cheerful face with dimples. Strands of red hair escaped from under her plain linen cap. The maid stood, wiping her hands self-consciously on her coarse apron.

           “I wonder if you could show me where the servants’ entrance is,” Viola said. “I should hate to make a poor impression on my first day.”

           The girl’s face brightened with understanding. “Oh, you must be Miss Weston!”

           “I take it I’m expected, then?”

           “I’m Molly, the housemaid. I would shake your hand, but…” She held up her dirty hands sheepishly. “If you’ll just follow me, Miss Weston, I can take you to the servants’ hall.”

           As Molly stepped away from the door, Viola realized she had been halfway through washing away what appeared to be graffiti, scribbled in childish writing with a piece of coal, a half-faded word in all capitals, stark against the bright green paint: MONSTER.

           Molly followed her gaze. “It’s…neighborhood children, I think,” she said in an undertone, twisting the rag in her hands. “They don’t know any better. But I always try to wash it off before Mr. Carlyle sees.”

           Viola frowned. “Does this happen often, then?”

           “Often enough.”

           Without another word, Viola took out her handkerchief and helped Molly erase the rude message from the door. She then followed the maid around the back of the building, to a set of stairs leading to the garden-level door.

           “Please call me Viola,” she said as they entered the servants’ hall. “We are going to be working in close quarters, after all.”

           Molly’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mrs. Hutchinson wouldn’t approve of that, Miss. I’m only the housemaid, you see—it would be impertinent if I spoke to the upper-servants on terms of equality.”

           Viola sighed. It seemed there were rules of etiquette in this line of work of which she knew nothing.

           Molly lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “First time in service?”

           “Is it that obvious?”

           “Don’t fret about it. Mr. Carlyle is a very patient employer and he doesn’t easily take offense. It’s Mrs. Hutchinson you must be careful of.”

           Viola chuckled, some of the tension in her shoulders relaxing. This assurance fit into her early impressions of Mr. Carlyle’s character, but it was nevertheless a relief to have it confirmed by someone who knew him better.

           “How long have you worked here?” she asked.

           “Three years this February.” Molly drew herself up proudly.

           “How many other servants are there, apart from ourselves?”

           “There’s Mrs. Palmer, the cook, and Eliza the scullery maid, and Mr. Stockington, the groom—but you shan’t see much of him, as his rooms are above the carriage-house and he never takes his meals with us.”

           “No butler? No footmen?” Viola’s knowledge of service was admittedly limited, but she knew it was a bit peculiar for a gentleman of means not to have a proper manservant. “Surely Mr. Carlyle has a valet, at least?”

           Molly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, biting her lip. “Perhaps I ought not to mention it. I don’t want you to think I’m a gossip…”

           Viola suppressed a grin. It was evident that Molly in fact longed to divulge the story and would do so with very little encouragement. “I promise to be discretion itself,” she said solemnly.

           Molly dropped her voice to a stage-whisper. “There was a valet, up until a year ago. But he was dismissed”—she paused dramatically—“for stealing.”

           Viola raised her eyebrows.

           “Poor Mr. Carlyle did not want to believe it at first,” Molly said, shaking her head. “He kept insisting the ivory cufflinks had only been misplaced. Then his gold watch-chain went missing—and a silver teaspoon—the evidence kept mounting until even he couldn’t deny it any longer.”

           “Good heavens. What a dreadful situation.”

           “And even after all that, Mr. Carlyle couldn’t bear to dismiss him without a reference. Said the man would never find honest work again without a reference, and he’d have no choice but to revert to his criminal ways. Mrs. Hutchinson was fairly apoplectic about having to give a sneak thief a glowing character, I can tell you.”

           “I can imagine,” Viola muttered darkly. It was no wonder Mrs. Hutchinson was so protective of her employer—he was determined never to think the worst of people, even when they gave him ample cause to.

           Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of another servant—a broad-shouldered woman that Viola deduced from the flour dusting her apron must be the cook.

           “Molly, have you been given a holiday that the rest of us don’t know about?” the cook barked. “I cannot think of another reason you would dawdle about in such a way.”

           “No, Mrs. Palmer.” Molly quivered under her glare. She added in a whisper to Viola, “Come along. I’ll show you around, so that you can get settled.”

           Molly led her on a quick tour so that Viola could begin to familiarize herself with the house. It was all just as comfortable and charming as the rooms she had already seen, but there were indications of Mr. Carlyle’s solitary bachelorhood: the stately drawing-room looked seldom used (indeed, the chairs looked so pristine that Viola doubted anyone had ever sat in them since the day they were purchased); and the guest bedrooms smelled stale, as if no one had ever set foot in them.

           Mr. Carlyle also seemed to have occasionally eccentric tastes. The cavernous dining room, dark and shadowy with the curtains shut tight, was decorated with an odd centerpiece of interlocking antlers. It was hardly unusual for an ordinary man to display hunting trophies, but Viola found it curious for Mr. Carlyle. She couldn’t imagine him taking pleasure in killing creatures for sport.

           Finally, Molly opened a door across the hall from Mr. Carlyle’s study. “This is to be your workroom, Miss Weston.”

           Viola’s carpetbag fell from her fingers to the floor, disregarded. “This is for me?”

           Molly smiled. “I’ll leave you to examine it, then. I must get back to my work, or Mrs. Hutchinson will have my guts for garters.”

           “Of course,” said Viola, distracted. “Thank you, Molly.”

           It must have once been a morning room intended for the lady of the house, for it had large east-facing windows that bathed the daisy-flecked wallpaper with golden sunlight. To her delight, she found it had already been repurposed as a workroom for her. There was a long table in the center, where she could cut and measure fabrics. A basket at the end overflowed with spools of thread dyed in every imaginable color, prickly pincushions, and tailor’s chalk.

           She pulled open a drawer in the oak bureau and found it stuffed with bolts of fabric. She ran her fingers longingly over the black satins and jewel-toned velvets.

           This will be perfect, she thought with a satisfied nod. It was a small room, but her supplies were higher-quality than she had ever worked with before. Her employer really seemed to have thought of everything. There was even a rocking chair in the sunniest corner, so that she could take advantage of the light when embroidering fine details.

           She knocked on Mr. Carlyle’s study door with only a hint of trepidation. When there was no response, she called his name.

           “Come in, Miss Weston,” he responded in a distracted tone, and upon entering she understood why. He was hunched over his desk, intently studying a tiny object with a magnifying glass: a squirming beetle with iridescent orange wings, which he had trapped in a jar. He was sketching its likeness onto the journal spread out before him.

           He did not look up from his beetle at her entrance, but he must have known she was approaching, for his long ears swiveled ever so slightly in her direction.

           She craned her neck to look at his sketch of the insect. “That’s quite an accurate likeness, sir.”

           Mr. Carlyle glanced up at her with wide eyes. “Do you think so, truly?”

           Viola shrugged. “I’m hardly an expert, so I suppose one ought to take my opinions with a grain of salt. What exactly is that you’re sketching?”

           He took a deep breath, as if to launch into a detailed explanation—but his enthusiasm deflated an instant later. “I won’t bore you with all of that,” he said quickly, shutting his sketchbook and turning his chair around to fully face her. “I trust you had a more pleasant journey back to us this morning than you did last night?”

           Viola suppressed the urge to reply, Not exactly, since I had to ride with Miranda. “I did. Thank you, sir.”

           “And do you have everything that you require, Miss Weston? I confess I’m not terribly knowledgeable on the subject and there was a certain amount of guesswork involved.”

           “I believe so, sir. But today I shall take a proper inventory of all my supplies, and then I can inform you if I’m lacking anything important.”

           “If you draw up your list tonight, I can give you money in the morning for anything you still need.”

           “Oh.” Viola froze, taken aback. That Mr. Carlyle would trust her with any amount of his money, after knowing her so short a time—after learning of her family’s sordid history—was surprising to say the least.

           “Unless you’ve some objection,” he added quickly, brow furrowed in concern at her hesitation.

           “No, no,” she assured him, moving toward the door; “I’ll begin right away.”

[havokangel]

from the dining table

Ben Solo x Reader

a college-ish angsty one shot based off of harry styles from the dining table. 

a/n; this was low-key therapeutic for me to write and my thirst for my bby has reawoken (even tho i haven't seen the new star wars) so i hope yall enjoy and pls message me if you liked it <3

the beginning

Ben Solo knew from the second he saw you, he wanted you. Perhaps want isn’t enough, no, he needed you.

You met at a party. A college party, nonetheless. Back when things were simpler, and all he had to care about was what paper he had to write and when he was going to smoke his next joint. He saw you from across the room, red cup in your hand and not a care in the world on your face, hips swinging to the rhythm of whatever EDM song was being blasted.

He’d always been shy, but the rush from whatever he was drinking was enough to override his fears. You remember the first thing he said to you, no matter how many times he protests that he wasn’t that drunk. 

‘You look a lot like my next girlfriend.’

Despite the cheesy line, it got you hooked to him.

The rest of the night was a blur of bodies being pressed together and teeth against skin, sheets being fisted in your hands as Ben made you fall apart. The morning that followed made Ben think that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be part of him for years to come, as you cooked breakfast in his shirt. 

the middle 

Ever since that first night, you were wrapped around Ben’s finger, as he was yours. As you both began to mold your separate lives into one, you began to learn each other. You learned what made him his blood boil and his fists shake, and you learned what made him feel like he could climb mountains, as he did the same for you. It seemed like when the two of you were together, you could both take over the world, and it appeared like so to others; to your friends, family, coworkers, everyone.

But not everything was as perfect as it seemed. 

Both of you were strong, independent people; dominant personalities, you suppose. This factor reared its ugly head as the honeymoon phase came to a close.

It started with little things, like taking too long to text back or coming home too late. The passive-aggressive comments would build and build until it came like an explosion, words being tossed around like grenades, tears being shed, and doors being slammed.

Even though the words would hurt, you knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. And the fights would be over as quickly as they started, ending with his lips against yours and your clothes on the ground, and all would be well, because you loved each other, and you knew that would make this work. It had to work. It just had to. 

Ben had always seen red when he would get mad. When he was younger, his anger would pour out of him like a waterfall and he never learned how to control it until you came into his life, encouraging him to seek help for it. Never would he think he would see red again, until the moment he knew you were going to leave him.

He doesn’t see red when he saw you shoving your clothes into your suitcase, tears and mascara streaming down your cheeks, no, he sees flames, flames red and burning.

“You’re going to throw five years of us away? Just like that?” He screamed, and you just chucked the closest thing to you at him, ironically it being a framed photo of the two of you. It shattered as it fell to the floor. 

“I’m over this shit, Ben! I’m fucking over it!” Your voice had become more of a sob, as you pushed past his tall frame. He tried to grab your arm, but you ripped it out of his arm, continuing to the door. “I’m sick of the fighting! I’m fucking sick of it all!” 

The door was halfway open when he furiously spat out, “I never fucking loved you.” 

That stopped you in your tracks. Turning around to take one last look at him, you can see his chest starting to heave, and his lower lip quivering. You could have yelled at him, told him to go to hell, the whole works. But you knew he didn’t mean his words.

He never did. 

So you just looked at him, and you turned around and left, saying nothing, leaving Ben standing alone in the kitchen you once cooked in, wearing his shirt.

the end

He thought you would’ve called. You always did, even when you were the one in the wrong. But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, your name not even once popped up in his phone. You hadn’t even come to the apartment to gather your things; your brother had. 

It took a bigger toll on himself than he thought it would have. 

For the first month, he drank. Every night he would come home and drink until he either cried or punched a hole in the wall, drafting message after message to you but never getting drunk enough to the point where he would send it. He wanted to think you were doing the same, but he knew you wouldn’t be. You were going to move on, and you were going to do it without him.

The second month, Ben found himself on dates at bars with women who he swiped on, all bearing a resemblance to you that he kept denying to himself. When they would be asleep in your spot in his bed, he would catch himself beginning to say your name, before feeling the wrench in his heart become bigger, and would instead get up to get a drink.

It took nearly four months for him to finally get a grip on himself, to actually feel like he could live his life without you apart of it, and the same went for you.

Five years with someone is a long time. Five years you spent with Ben, building a life together, planning a family and everything in between. But life has a funny way of working sometimes; and maybe one day, months, maybe years from now, you can both find the closure you’re looking for.

But for now, trying to rebuild what was once broken in the two of you, is what matters most.