#on this day 24 years ago you were birthed and the world was never the same

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

When you're at your lowest, this friend will always be there to lend a hand...

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[shomatoriashi]

09/08/24; 04:15pm

yandere!self.aware!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

you had no idea how this strange love began.

your mind knew that sung jinwoo was simply a fictional character; one whose birth stemmed from a mind of a writer before coming into fruition when an artist decided to illustrate his stories-

yet you couldn't deny how much your heart raced at the mere sight of him-

how your mind painted daydream upon daydream about being together with him, be it while using your own self insert or an original character made to reflect your personality and make your own stories with your beloved jinwoo.

in your mind, jinwoo would always choose you; his heart never once belonged to the infuriatingly lovely cha hae-in because you were the one who loved him from the start.

you were the one who supported him even when he was a mere level e hunter, labeled the weakest in the world along with his frumpy appearance.

you loved him when he had messy locks of ebony hair-

you loved him when all he could afford were plain, blue hoodies, ripped jeans, and damaged sneakers-

you loved him when he was at his worst-

and you had convinced yourself that only you could deserve him while he was at his best.

truly, cha hae-in could never.

but you digress and were getting a bit ahead of yourself. after re-reading his webcomic on your phone, (losing count of the sheer amount of times that you have read his story), your life took on a brighter turn one early morning.

as you were shopping for your usual groceries, you pass by the aisle that held a few shelves dedicated to some books along with some mangas and manhwas alike when a familiar title stops you dead in your tracks.

solo leveling.

not even trying to hide your immense joy at seeing the colorful and physical volume of your beloved series, you grab it while flipping through its pages, completely captivated by each panel that featured jinwoo in various scenarios. as your eyes land on a full page dedicated to him, a giggle was heard escaping from your parted lips as you gave that jinwoo panel a kiss.

feeling your cheeks heat up at how silly you were behaving, you grab the single volume of solo leveling and place it within your cart, unaware of how tiny wisps of shadows slowly began to surround the seemingly unassuming manhwa.

{ ... }

jinwoo had simply began doing his usual 10km run for the day when he felt the lingering sensation of being kissed somewhere on his cheek. the sensation felt so close and real that it made the young hunter stop dead in his tracks.

the last time jinwoo recalled ever being kissed was by his mother, and that had been years ago. now that he was an adult, such kisses came sparingly because it was embarrassing to be doted on by his mother at such an age despite knowing how much his mother would always love him.

so feeling such an affectionate touch put a bit of a smile on jinwoo's face. he touches at the spot where he felt the kiss, blaming it on a mere phantom's touch before continuing on with his day.

however, it was easier to ignore such lingering kisses had it just been a one time occurrence-

ever since that day, it seemed that the kisses felt against his skin became even more frequent. despite how he lived alone, jinwoo swore he could feel a gentle kiss against his head of hair, and even hear the sounds of muffled giggling-

and it was truly driving him insane with curiosity.

when he felt another one of those lingering kisses against his skin did he finally use the system to get to the bottom of this. summoning its translucent screen, he stares straight into it while demanding, "show me the image of the person who keeps kissing me."

[ ... ]

[ ... ... ... ... ... ... ]

[ anomaly detected; connection forged between this world and the other ]

[ view anomaly? ( y / n )? ]

"yes." jinwoo's voice was filled with confidence, ready to get to the bottom of this the moment the system began to work its magic. he saw nothing but static and white noise for a brief second-

yet that all changes when the screen clears, revealing a smiling, young woman.

it was someone he had never once seen before in his life, but seeing the girl smiling so brightly at him made jinwoo's heart lurch within the confines of his chest. his mouth turns dry, and he found his grey eyes practically try to drink in the sight of the strangely beautiful girl.

and the more he stared, the more he knew that it was completely over for him-

for you had somehow taken over his life, leaving him a mere husk of what he once was.

{ … }

as time goes on, you were able to collect even more physical volumes of solo leveling, further expanding your love for jinwoo as you eagerly drank in those colored pages that captures your beloved so well.

however, there seemed to be something… off each time you read those pages. usually, while admiring those panels, jinwoo would often face whoever was speaking to him, giving you the perfect view of his side profile.

yet now, it seemed like whenever you would admire those pages, jinwoo’s gaze would somehow be honed forward, as if he was looking directly at you instead. the speech bubbles would remain the same-

yet jinwoo would no longer be looking at the other character-

only at you (always at you.)

admittedly, it scared you just the tiniest bit, which was what made you stop reading solo leveling. you figured the reason why jinwoo appeared like he was looking at you was probably because you were severely sleep deprived. instead of reading, you decided to search through your album dedicated to jinwoo and choose a new wallpaper for your phone.

it takes you quite a bit of time to decide, but you decided on a particularly good shot of his side profile where he is smiling and deep in thought. feeling your heart racing at the mere sight of him, you finalize your phone's wallpaper before setting your phone off to the side and on top of your nightstand.

deciding to destress with a good shower, you head into the bathroom and turn on the hot water, undressing your clothes while remaining blissfully unaware of how your phone began to display the same, strange shadowy wisps that surrounded the volume of solo leveling you had purchased.

you spent roughly half an hour cleansing yourself in the shower, letting out a sigh of relief when you began drying your hair with a plush towel. now dressed in your usual sleepwear, you were ready to cuddle up in bed while playing games and maybe watch a video or two on your phone.

landing in bed with a wide grin, you take a hold of your phone, ready to open your usual applications when something startling makes you freeze up completely.

the wallpaper you had made for your phone-

the one where you had assigned jinwoo's side profile-

his side profile was no longer seen.

instead, what you saw was jinwoo looking directly at you, his purple eyes seeming to glow with mischief. unable to comprehend nor believe what was going on, you bring your phone closer to you, seeing jinwoo break into a smirk while saying your name.

it sounds muffled at first, yet the movement of his lips and the deep sound of his voice was undeniable-

letting out a sudden gasp, you toss your phone away from you, hands clutching at your comforter when thick tendrils of shadows began to surround the entirety of your room.

the sudden onslaught of darkness overwhelms you, making you lose consciousness almost immediately as a pair of powerful arms traps you in its embrace...

{ ... }

your head was pounding, making you let out a groan when you felt the bright sunlight hitting at the back of your eyelids. coupled along with the near blinding light was a reverent touch that was felt against your skin.

desperate to know what was going on, you carefully open your eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

as you lay in bed, you saw that you were in a room that was much larger than your own while laying on a bed that had to be triple the size of your own bed. with a groan, you turn your face away from the piercing sunlight-

only to be met with the achingly handsome face of sung jinwoo himself.

your movements were quick, with your legs pushing you away from the person you assumed was a damn good sung jinwoo impersonator. but... impersonator or not, his easygoing smile and kind, grey eyes were enough to make your heart skip beats and your breathing hitched.

was this some kind of sweet dream you were living in?

and why was everything suddenly so vivid?

jinwoo scoffs before saying your name once more, using his large hands to pull your hips closer to him. "now, where do you think you're going?"

your mind was spinning when you felt jinwoo press a kiss against your temple, "y-you... who are you? a-and how did i get here?"

jinwoo was felt trembling a bit before letting out a tsk, delving his fingers into your slightly damp hair before pulling your body flush against his. "oh, i think you know exactly who i am, darling. or do you need a reminder?"

he hums, eyes never once looking away from you when he leans closer to press a series of lingering kisses against your features. the sight of the man you have always loved (and prayed to become real) actually kissing you makes you lose all train of coherency, with you only managing to wrap your arms around his neck in response.

you feel jinwoo smiling against your skin, pressing one last lingering kiss against it before murmuring to you, "you think you're so slick, believing that i could never feel any of your kisses against my skin-

but you're wrong."

the way his voice takes on a deeper, more possessive edge makes you look back up at him, meeting his gaze as they seemed to burn with fervor for you. "i always thought it was strange... how i could feel your phantom kisses against my skin, but could never once see you. i was desperate to know who you were that i used the system to reveal your identity to me."

your breathing becomes labored then, throat turning dry the more jinwoo continues to inch ever so closer to you, "and when i finally knew who you were, i was a goner. the fact that you were in an entirely different universe kept driving me up the wall, since i knew i had to do everything i could to keep you."

you found no words could come from your parted lips, simply trying to bask in jinwoo's confession as he kept gazing at you with an intensity that makes your heart soar. "my days were filled with thoughts of you alone. i needed to see you; to know what you were doing at every single moment- of every single second. so, i used my abilities as a monarch to invade the pages of my story. i made sure that each time you could see me, you would know that i would be looking back at you."

you immediately recall the times where it felt like jinwoo was looking at you through those glossy pages, "i-i always found it strange how it felt like you were looking at me."

a low hiss and a groan comes from jinwoo, and you felt his hands tighten around your shoulders as he begins to actively tremble in response to the sound of your voice once more, “you have no idea... how amazing it feels to finally hear the sound of your voice again. it's.... it's beautiful. better than music to my ears."

you shiver against him, feeling jinwoo gently nipping at your ear in a playful manner when you shakily tell him, "w-what's this? you sound like a man obsessed."

jinwoo was felt smirking against your skin, turning back to meet with your gaze. the look in his eyes was absolutely dark and full of possession at this point, and there was no way he would deny the truth, not to himself or to you, "obsessed? baby, i'm far more than obsessed with you. it's almost like i love you so much that it's become unhealthy... and i'm not ashamed to admit it."

another shiver was felt coursing through you, "y-you would do anything for me?"

his smirk simply widens in response to your question. anything for you? ha! that was an understatement. he would do anything and everything for you. it was practically like a god giving out his blessings at this point. "of course i would... i don't think there's anything i wouldn't do if you asked or needed me to do it. if it's for you, i wouldn't hesitate to do anything at all."

you were suddenly filled with a giddiness then, heart pounding within your chest as a sweet anticipation fills you. no longer were you worried about your life back in the real world, for the man you had always loved jut admitted to the lengths he would go to keep you happy and safe.

jinwoo notices the dreamy look in your eyes and chuckles, bringing your body closer to his while resting his forehead against yours. you were just so precious to him; like a rare gemstone he had to keep safe at all costs. seeing you filled with such joy for him only made him want to love and protect you even more.

"are you happy that i'd do anything for you, baby?"

your eager nods were all the confirmation jinwoo needed to lean closer to you, letting out a whisper of your name before slotting his lips against yours, hungrily swallowing your moans as he kept you pinned against his bed and trapped forever in this world with him-

a world where you will always be cherished and loved by him and him alone.

end notes: self aware jinwoo, you have my heart (⺣◡⺣)♡ currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA For telling my partner I'd like to bring my ex into our relationship?

I'm copying this over from r/relationship_advice, because the responses are giving me the impression they don't really get what polyamory is & I'm hoping tumblr does. For reference: there's me (29M), my ex (28, Trans Man), and my partner (30M).

My ex and I were best friends in high school, went to the same college, & dated through the tail end of undergrad, for about a year and change. We ended things on very good terms, the only reason we broke up was a difference in life paths: I stayed in the city to get my Master's, he traveled constantly for his work (he's a sculptor who makes these huge custom multimedia pieces, they're genuinely some of the most beautiful things I've seen). We fell out of touch for the most part, but I'd see him popping up on social media occasionally, or he'd text me when he was in town and we'd hang out, along with some other school friends.

The last time I saw him before our present situation was about 3 1/2 years ago today. We went out for drinks, he came back to my place after, and we ended up hooking up. He stayed in town for about a week, and we hooked up a few more times, and then he left again. He sort of dropped off the face of the earth after that, but he'd always been pretty sporadic, especially when he had a big project, so I didn't think much about it.

Not long after that, I met my current partner. He's truly one of my favorite people in the whole world; he's incredibly thoughtful, and earnest, and passionate about his morals & principles (he's an environmental lawyer), and more than anything, he's someone I never feel like I have to pretend with. He asked for my number, we had our first date a few days later, and ended up staying awake the entire night just talking about anything and everything, so we went ahead and got 5am pancakes and called it our second date. We've been together for a little over 3 years now, we've been moved in together for about 2, and while we've had the occasional fight or rough patch I can definitely say I love this man, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with him.

So, the big change.

About a year ago (~2 years since seeing my ex, my partner and I have lived together for about a year at this point), my partner and I are having a night in, and there's a knock at the door. It's my ex, looking absolutely ragged, holding a 15 month old baby. As in, a baby who was conceived 24 months before then. Yep, it's pretty much what you're guessing. I let them both in, we had a sit down in the kitchen, and he told me everything he'd been doing in the past 2 years in between me cussing him out for keeping it all from me in the first place. I really do want to keep this as short as possible, so to give you the super condensed version:

She's my daughter, he's completely sure about that, there's no one else he's been with the math is even close to correct for

The second he found out he was pregnant, he more or less panicked. He's got a whole Thing about feeling like he's irresponsible/not a "real" adult, and this really set him off, so telling me felt like "admitting to fucking both our lives up" at the time. His OB/GYN said some pretty awful shit to him about not being more careful as a trans man too, which just made it all even worse

Because of all that, he'd genuinely planned to just never tell me I have a daughter & raise her completely on his own, but a few things compounded to force his hand:

The birth was really rough on him, and his recovery was slow enough he was having trouble going back to work, to the point where money was getting tight

On top of that, our daughter has celiac disease, and between paying out of pocket for blood tests & spending more on baby food she's safe to eat, things got desperate enough he went and took out a really dodgy loan from a scummy payday company

He was at our door because all of this had finally spiraled to a point where he'd lost his apartment, they'd been sleeping in his car for about a week, and he couldn't think of anything else to do

I think I was probably feeling every human emotion in existence at the same time through all of this, but the thing I remember most from the whole conversation was the way my partner kept drifting right back to the baby, and the soft way he looked at her. We put my ex & daughter up in a hotel room for the night and told him we needed to talk, and we'd discuss our options in the morning, but I think even then I kind of knew what our answer was going to be.

Sure enough, for the last year and a half we've been co-parenting our little girl, all three of us. We didn't want to juggle who's got her, or force my ex to find a place to stay, so we've turned my partner's home office into our daughter's room, and redid most of the downstairs layout so my ex could move into an actual bedroom, rather than just sleep on our pullout couch in perpetuity. We finally succeeded in convincing him that rest and recovery was more important than trying to contribute to the house finances right away, and it's been magical watching all that stress and terror slowly fall off him. It's like he's a little more alive again every time I look.

Which is where my question comes in.

I'd like to restate, I love my partner 100%. None of this changes that whatsoever. If I ask, and he says no, that will be the end of the discussion for me completely. But I have eyes. My ex is, objectively, a very attractive man. I know we work well together, and I have to admit I'm very curious to see where that same chemistry could lead now that he's not on the other side of the country half the time. I've also been noticing these little moments between him and my partner. Nothing I'd consider crossing a line, but I've caught my partner checking my ex out several times, as well as vice versa, and they get along remarkably well. Sometimes I'll go to enter a room, and see them both sitting there laughing and chatting and playing with our baby, and I'll just hang back to watch because it makes me so happy.

Add to all that, we're pretty deeply ingrained in each other's lives now. My partner and I don't often go out on dates alone anymore, but the last few times we did it felt as if my ex was missing from the table. We watched a movie together last night, and my ex sat in the middle of us with his feet in my partner's lap and his head on my chest, and it felt just as natural as my arm on my partner's shoulder. It's not about just having sex with him, and it's not that I'd want to invite any old person into our relationship. I know we already all love each other, and I think there's potential for that to become romantic between the two of us and my ex.

It just feels as though we're all holding our breath, waiting for someone else to say it first. My ex certainly isn't going to bring it up when he's living rent free in "our" home (it's his home too, but he doesn't seem to see it like that yet). My partner grew up sheltered enough that I'm not sure he's ever heard of polyamory at all, so he's not going to bring it up. That just leaves me.

My problem is, if I'm wrong about what I think I'm seeing, or if I bring it up the wrong way, I can't take it back. I don't want my partner to feel insecure or betrayed, I don't want my ex to feel pressured or put on the spot, and I definitely don't want my daughter to lose any of us, which I know could happen if we aren't all on the same page. Or worse, if we do all date and it goes badly.

Should I just keep this whole thing secret? Is that even worse? Would I be the asshole for opening this can of worms on everyone else?

Help!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running From The Flames {Epilogue 1/2}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: parenting - that should be a warning lmao, sexual themes

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Epilogue 2/2

There was only one word to describe my life and that word was: chaotic. That being said, I still wouldn’t change it for the world.

The family calendar on the fridge was completely full and colour coded so we could all see where we were needed on any given day. Even so, I still lost track of my husband or our kids at least once a week. 

“Sydney, honey, have you seen your father?” I asked the spitting image of Pierre who was in the race simulator. He was always in the machine, practising for his upcoming debut into Formula 4 now that he had turned 15 and could move up from karting. 

“Picking up Addie from the airport.” He barely looked away from the triplet of screens in front of him as he answered with all the attitude of a teenage boy being interrupted in life. “It’s on the fridge.”

I looked at the calendar and realised I was looking at the completely wrong day. “Shit.”

“Ha,” he laughed loudly as he navigated the virtual track of the Red Bull Ring. “You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” I said as I scanned over the correct day and saw I had a board meeting to prepare for tomorrow. “I just thought it was Tuesday today.”

“Whatever you say, maman. You can tell me I’m your favourite, I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t have a favourite, I love you all equally. Now, can you finish that game and go do your homework? You still need to pack your bag for the weekend too.”

Addie was coming home from London for the week, taking a little break from her own busy schedule, to watch Sydney’s first race with us in Austria. 

It had been difficult to let her leave home at 18 but she had worked hard to get a place in the Arsenal Women’s Under 21 team. I had left home at the same age and Pierre had left even earlier, so we were hardly the exemplary figures to deny her. All we could do was make sure she stayed safe and she knew she could call either of us 24/7 if she needed help. It was also never that long between visits, making plenty of stopovers in England as we travelled. 

The travelling for work was tiresome but so far we had yet to miss a football match on Saturday or a karting race on Sunday. It did help being our own bosses so Pierre and I could manage our schedule around the kids. He had been running Strauss Fashion for the better part of the last ten years, after Granny finally retired properly, while I had been the Chief Technical Officer at Alpine, which Grandpa had purchased. 

When Harry passed away three years ago I found myself suddenly thrust into the ownership of the team and though there were plenty of offers to sell it, I decided to take the leap of faith and see where the journey would take me. I hadn’t looked back and so far we had two Constructors' Championship wins with our seasoned pilots, Gabriele Minì and Oliver Bearman.

We had come so far, it was hard to believe until I saw the wisps of grey hairs among the dark strands. 

“Maman!” I was pulled from my reminiscence and looked at my watch to realise how quickly the afternoon had gotten away from me as Clare bounded through the front door and leapt into my arms. “Maman, look!”

Clare had been a wonderful surprise that completed our family two years ago. After Sydney’s unexpected and frightening early arrival Pierre had been reluctant to try for another child, though he had always wanted three. I thought maybe he would change his mind after the terrifying memory faded with time but then a few years passed, we both got caught up in work, and after that it seemed too hard to imagine returning to sleepless nights with a newborn. 

But, the universe had other plans for us. What I thought was a long-enduring hangover, after celebrating the rebranding of Alpine into Gasly Racing, actually turned out to be morning sickness. Those final weeks before her birth were stressful enough to send Pierre to his doctor for a vasectomy but thankfully her arrival went exactly to plan and he could breathe calmly once again. 

“Hello my Clare-bear, wow, you have another bracelet.” You quirked an eyebrow at Charles as he arrived with Clare’s backpack on his shoulder and her spare carseat under his arm. “Uncle Charles has absolutely spoiled you.”

“Of course. A princess deserves it,” he stated proudly as he placed her belongings down and nodded his head to the simulator. “Is he all ready for the big day?”

“He is, I’m not sure I am,” I admitted as I put Clare down and she immediately went to interrupt Sydney by climbing onto his lap mid-race. If it was anyone else they would have received an earful but he just paused the game and listened as she told him all about her day at Uncle Charles’ house. “God help me when he gets to Formula One, I think I’ll have to revert the car back to a slower predecessor for my own sanity.”

Charles laughed but I wasn’t completely joking. The cars were so much faster than they were when he and PIerre raced. Though the safety features improved along with the technology that made them rockets on wheels it was still difficult to imagine putting my little boy inside one and sending it off. 

“You could keep him as a reserve driver,” Charles offered before shaking his head at the thought and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “But he’s stubborn like his father, he’d just find another team to race for.”

“No way, I can at least trust my own team to keep him safe. Same goes for Marc.”

Charles chuckled at the mention of his son who at 8 years old he was already a junior karting champion. “He said someone called him Il Predestinato after his race last weekend.”

“Yikes, I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”

The front door opened again and Addie blew in with all the gusto of a tornado, whipping around the rooms to greet everyone before she was up the stairs to her old room. Entering a little more sedately was my husband, his arms laden with more suitcases than anyone needed for a week away, especially when she still had a wardrobe full of clothes upstairs. 

“You are lucky you only have sons,” Pierre said to Charles as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t work out enough anymore to be carrying this shit.” 

He dropped the suitcases in front of the elevator and hit the call button rather than carrying them up the stairs before pushing them inside as the door opened. After a few bad winters, where not even the central heating could keep the aches of my bones at bay, Pierre had made the call for the elevator to be installed and it had been a godsend in moments like this when heavy items needed to make it to the floors above.

Sticking his head up the staircase he called out, “Addie, your entire life and everything but the kitchen sink is heading your way.”

“Thanks, dad!”

“What was that about?” I asked after he joined us in the kitchen while the coffee machine churned out our usual drinks. “I thought she outgrew the ‘I’m too cool to hangout with my parents’ phase.”

Pierre's lips pressed together and he took a seat next to Charles, picking up Clare who had left Sydney to return to his practice. “Elias.”

“Vettel?” Charles asked, his eyebrows lifting when Pierre nodded and pushed his mug away so Clare couldn’t reach the hot liquid.

“They have been out on a few dates, apparently. I’ll have to ask Davis about it, assuming he went with them, it’s not like it’s his job or anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head at the news, cradling my mug in my hands as I leaned against the bench and wondered if she had ditched her bodyguard once again. “He’s a sweet boy from what I remember, much like his father.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t care who his dad is,” Pierre grumbled before repeating, “You are so lucky you only have sons, mate. Teenage girls are stressful.”

“Ah, but I have two boys who think it is funny to have a competition to see who can fart the loudest,” Charles said as he took a sip of his drink.

“I mean, that’s kind of funny,” Pierre said with a smirk.

Charles sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Not when one always pushes too hard to win.”

The sip I was taking went the wrong way and I spluttered as Pierre laughed, “It’s all shits and giggles, until someone giggles and shits.”

“To think my poor mother went through this too. Drives me insane, mate. Bet you’ve never had to worry about that?”

“Thankfully, no,” I answered after recovering from choking on coffee. “But it also wasn’t bad enough to stop you from having another.”

“And on that note, I should get going. Mia won’t let me back in the house if I don’t pick up her favourite carbonara on the way home.” He smiled as he thought of his wife’s pregnancy cravings. It was the same one she had when she was carrying Marc and Antonio so it came as no surprise at the gender reveal when the backyard was splattered with blue confetti. “Thank you for letting me borrow Clare.”

“Any time,” Pierre chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back. Charles had been busy reinstalling all the baby gates and safety locks in his home, despite the baby boy not even being born yet, and wanted a toddler to help test his craftsmanship. “I won’t complain about a little free babysitting.”

Charles placed his empty mug in the sink and before kissing the top of Clare’s thick wavy hair. “Bye petite chérie, I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye Uncle Charles,” she said with a wave, but it sounded more like Unk Cha and made him laugh as he approached the simulator.

I saw Sydney pause the race and Charles crouched down beside him, sharing a few quiet words of encouragement for the upcoming debut race. I couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many supportive people and my smile grew as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. 

I turned to meet his lips over my shoulder and the magnetism that attracted us was still evident even after 17 years. Of course, like any relationship, there had been times when stress led to arguments and I would find him hours later in a spare bed, wide awake because he couldn’t sleep without me beside him. Those fights never lasted long enough to even remember what they were about and forgiveness came easy.

I turned in my husband’s arms and draped mine around his neck to admire him. Pierre was truly like a fine wine. Age had made him even more handsome and the small wrinkles at the corners of his lips and eyes were a testament to a life that was full of smiles and laughter. 

“Addie said she’ll watch the kids tonight,” Pierre whispered in my ear as he gently swayed to the melodic tune of his voice and I hummed with contentment. “And I got us a table at L'Ambroisie. You’ve been working so hard I thought we could do with a night away, just the two of us.”

“You think I don’t know your game, baby,” I whispered back, all too aware Charles was still chatting with Sydney and imparting some real world advice. “Wine and dine, pretty words, a hotel room. There’s only one thing you want.”

His lips curled into a smile against my cheek. “You know me too well.”

“You would actually get a full night’s sleep if you put your foot down.”

Pierre looked over at Clare who had helped herself to a banana from the fruit bowl and as if sensing she had been caught she looked up with an innocent smile. “How can I tell her no when she looks like that?”

“Mhmm, and that’s why she keeps climbing into our bed. You are a big softy.”

His smirk was flirty and fun as his arms tightened around me, pulling our bodies flush together. His breath was hot on my neck as he hid his face in the curtain of my hair. “Not tonight, ma femme. Tonight you will see just how hard I can be.”

Pierre backed up with a smirk but not before he sucked at the sensitive skin above my racing pulse. He knew exactly what he was doing and the smugness showed as he whistled a little tune on his way to help Clare peel the banana.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the stairs and said goodbye to Charles with the message to remind Mia that our plans for a spa day had been booked - but that didn’t mean he could slack off from the ankle massages he was giving her each night. He gave an amused salut but I didn’t see it as I pressed the button for the elevator. He was well used to the reminders by now, it wasn’t his first rodeo.

Knowing my evening plans had changed I went to my office and shut the door to silence the music drifting down the hall from Addie’s room. As CEO of Gasly Racing there was an endless stream of paperwork to be checked and signed, especially with the new expansion plan for the factory about to break ground. On top of that were the invites to attend fundraisers or speeches to prepare for the various charities I was ambassador for such as Women's Refuge.

When I finally emerged with my inbox up to date I could hear the laughter of all my children from where they lounged in front of the tv and the sound never ceased to make me smile. I had missed the sound since Addie moved out because it was rare to have all five of us here at the same time and I was reluctant to leave even for just one night when it came time to pack an overnight bag.

“We are allowed one night away, mon amour,” Pierre said as he stepped into the master bedroom to see me hesitating to step inside the wardrobe. “You and me, no interruptions.”

I relaxed into his embrace and sighed as he brushed my hair over one shoulder before kissing my collar. “And what were you planning that was so important it couldn’t be interrupted?”

His chuckle sent a shiver of delight down my spine and his fingers trailed down my ribs to the hem of my shirt before they slipped underneath the material to caress the soft skin over my stomach. I had to take a shaky breath when his thumbs caught the waistband of my skirt and I held it as I waited for them to hook underneath.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and my lips parted in anticipation of his dirty words. “To sleep.”

“Huh?” I blinked twice, peeking over my shoulder to see his green eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“To sleep. Why, what were you thinking?” He tried to look innocent but when he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and his hand slipped down beneath my skirt he let the truth show. “Did you want me to tell you how I am dying for a taste of you? How I can’t wait to have these sexy legs wrapped around me when I make love to you tonight? I don’t need to tell you, baby, I’ll show you.”

I knew he could feel how damp my panties were for him from the smirk on his face and I almost whimpered when he withdrew his hand from where I needed it. “Now pack your bag, and make it quick, I’m absolutely ravenous.”

I bit my lip at the depth of his tone and knew exactly what it was he was dying to taste. I didn’t even look at what I was packing, tossing the first items that touched my hands before he stopped me and grabbed one dress instead. 

“This one,” he said as he held a colourful sundress that I rarely wore anymore, a soft smile warming his eyes. “It’s my favourite.”

Click here for the final chapter. 🥺

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

[wonwoonlight]

everything and more; chapter 1 / choi seungcheol

➝ Seungcheol x single mom!Reader (feat. original characters, Jisoo, Jinyoung, Jeonghan, etc.)

➝ best friends to lovers // single mom!Reader // slowburn // fluff // angst // slice of life-ish

➝ wc: 5.2~k

➝ chapter warning: character death (its literally the plot sjhdfhsjbf), curses, cliche probably lol, not entirely proofread, nothing more that i can think of

➝ everything and more masterlist

[✾✾✾]

You used to say you wanted at least three children growing up.

But then your sister gave birth to one beautiful son, a nephew you love with everything your heart can offer and more, and, after seeing the hardship she went through, you decided motherhood isn't for you. You had never thought motherhood was easy, but seeing someone so close to you going through it was another experience altogether.

The thought of being the aunt that spoils their nephew to no end definitely seems like the better choice. Given, your sister's journey is probably harder than most because the father isn't in the picture and God knows how cruel the world can be to single mothers, especially those out of wedlock.

Still, you had lived with her for the first three months after she gave birth to help her around, and you’re 99% sure (the 1% you keep around just in case your words will bite you back in the ass) you would never be able to care for a child 24/7. Even babysitting during the day was hard, but she had to care for Seungyoon during day and night and you don’t even dare to imagine the amount of patience it took her to do that.

“Seungyoon is… how old now?” Jisoo asks as she bounces your nephew on her lap. You’re on babysitting duty today, as Yuri has a business trip to Suwon and you’ve convinced her to let you babysit Seungyoon. That sister of yours can be too hard headed for her own good when it comes to her son, which you understand to a certain point, but you don’t see why she should bring her toddler son to a business trip when you don’t even have work today and you’re her sister for a reason.

It’s always been you two; three now, with Seungyoon. You don’t have any other family and it’s okay as long as you have each other. You’ve found a lot of family along the way in other people: like Jisoo, your best friend since high school, and Seungcheol, another best friend of yours from university. Not to forget Jinyoung, Yuri’s only and closest friend who’s basically your big brother. You’re happy with this family and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"He's three next month." You grin as your nephew giggles uncontrollably on Jisoo's lap, the way Seungcheol is poking his belly making his giggle louder by the seconds.

"Already?" Seungcheol exclaims, his mouth turning into a small 'o'. "Wow. Felt like it was just yesterday we visited Yuri after her labor."

"Right?" Jisoo sighs as she hugs the kid closer to her. She has always had a soft spot for him, to the point where she was probably more excited about Seungyoon's birth than you were almost three years ago. "Now this brat can already talk back if we try to make him eat his carrot."

Seungyoon scrunches in distaste at the mention of the vegetable, frowning at Jisoo like she has personally offended him. "Auntie. No carrot."

"Why do you not like carrots though?" Seungcheol intercepts, indulging him.

"Yuck." His frown deepens, followed by a yawn that makes its way out of his small lips. 

"They're good for your eyes, you know." You poke his cheek to gain his attention and, just like that, the little kid turns to you and extends his arms so you'd take him to your lap instead. It's something he often does when his mom isn't around; seeks for your warmth when he's sleepy or uncomfortable. Because you're you and you're always there together with his mom that his mind already registers you as another safe place for him. It's something that Yuri has taught him too, to find you or Uncle Jinyoung if she's not there.

"Sleepy?" You take him into your arms and whisper with a soft kiss on top of his head, the way you endlessly caress his hair lulling him to sleep. "We'll go home in a bit, okay?"

Seungyoon doesn't answer, simply buries his face in your chest as sleep overcomes him bit by bit.

Almost an hour goes by just like that, with the three of you quietly continuing the discussion in the cafe, talking about work and whatnot as your fingers absentmindedly comb through Seungyoon's hair even if he's already asleep at this point.

"Hey, didn't you go on a date or something last week?"

Seungcheol looks at you, nods, then shrugs, not giving any details until Jisoo prods, prods, and prods. You're thankful she does it for you, because you're actually also curious but don't really have the heart to force it out of him.

Seungcheol is a romantic. Has always been particular with the girls he wants to date. If he's not interested, then he wouldn't spare them a glance. If he's only remotely interested, he'd still be skeptical and find a hundred reasons not to agree on a date. There's just something bothersome about going out with someone he doesn't know without anyone else present.

You and Jisoo have been encouraging him to go on dates though, if only because it's been too long and you recognize the longing in his eyes everytime he sees his friends with their partners. He claims he's not currently looking for a relationship, but it's also been quite some time since he even goes out with anyone other than you two, and that's why you've been telling him to be more open at least for the first meetings. If he doesn't want to continue from then, then it's up to him. But how would he find someone–anyone if he doesn't even want to go on the first date?

"It was okay… but, nothing special. She's nice and we have some common interests but…" His gaze falls on Seungyoon on your lap, then caresses his head as if seeking some sort of comfort from the little boy. "Not interested in a second date."

Jisoo is about to argue, probably meaning to convince him to tell more, but her phone rings and she immediately picks up when she sees her fiance's name. Jeonghan rarely calls when she's out with you both, that's a rule they've decided together: to respect the time they spend with their friends. So she knows it must be important if he calls her instead of leaving a text.

You see her panic the longer the call goes, hand already busy packing up her stuff as you barely hear Jeonghan's faint voice calmly speak through the phone. 

"Jeonghan’s sister got into an accident." Jisoo relays the information once he hangs up, voice shaking, and worry floods over you despite not knowing the girl personally. "I… I need to go. She's being taken to the hospital now."

"Want me to drive you?" Seungcheol offers, but Jisoo shakes her head and says she's going home first, that she'll go with Jeonghan because the accident isn't in Seoul and, even if he didn't mention it, she knows he needs her with him.

"Update us?" You try to be calm for her, your palm caresses her arm in comfort.

"I will." She bites her lip in worry, looking at the map on her phone that indicates the location of the taxi she's just ordered. "She's… she's on a trip with her friend and she's supposed to come home today. But there's an accident on Seocho and it's quite a big one because a loading truck caused it."

You blink at the location, the transition between your heart dropping then speeding up as the worst case scenario goes through your mind is a matter of seconds. Yuri would need to go through Seocho too on her way back from Suwon. 

It's only 3PM now. If she's on a business trip, surely she would go home later in the evening, right? Fuck, your phone is in your bag and you can’t take it without waking your nephew. You just had to put it on ‘do not disturb’ too, though you’ve made sure to let it ring if a call goes through.

Your tendency to spiral into worst case scenarios makes it hard to convince yourself everything’s fine because it hasn’t rung. You’re dying to just call Yuri and listen to her calling you dumb for worrying; because she’s okay and she’ll be home in a few hours. That you need to calm down because she promises she’s okay.

Jisoo doesn’t seem to notice the shift in your mood due to her own stress, but Seungcheol does and he doesn’t address it until Jisoo bids you two goodbye along with a soft kiss on Seungyoon’s head. He shifts closer to you, his palm reaching your shoulder before he asks if you’re okay.

“Can you get my phone, please?” You say instead, the tremble in your voice worries him. He goes through your bag like you ask him to, then hands you the device as he notices the way your arm tightens around Seungyoon.

You’re so tense that he almost reminds you to breathe, he sees you scroll but it seems like you find nothing by the way you’re biting your lip. Then he sees you type, another sigh escapes your lips as you anxiously stare at your screen. Before he can ask if something’s wrong, you bring your phone to your ear, an endless ring greeting your ear because whoever you’re calling isn’t picking up.

“Okay, talk to me.” Seungcheol finally says, his voice soft but firm. The way you’re looking at him isn’t helping at all, and he sees you gripping your phone like it has personally wronged you. “What’s wrong?”

“Yuri is in Suwon.”

“Okay?”

“She–she’d need to go through Seocho to go back to Seoul, right?” He nods, finally grasping your worry. “She’s not replying to my texts nor my calls and I’m–I don’t know, I’m freaking out.”

He doesn’t want to brush off your worries, because he knows how much Yuri means to you and he understands how your train of thoughts might’ve gone in the short span of time between Jisoo’s news and your current condition. But he’s not sure how to calm you down without sounding like he’s downplaying your worries; so he takes the one route that he knows would at least remind you that you need to get it together.

“Hey. Breathe, okay? You’ll wake Seungyoon up.” He whispers like it’s a secret, and you take a long, deep breath as you nod. Seungcheol has always had that effect on you; to make you calm down and be your pillar when you need someone to be. Jisoo is a little blunt and harsh at times, another type of friend you’re glad you have in life because you definitely need someone like her to knock senses into your head. But that means you don’t always go to her when you’re looking for comfort and validation. That role is Seungcheol’s and, while he can be strict at times, he’s better at sympathizing with your feelings (or everyone else’s, really) than anyone. “Maybe Yuri’s in a meeting and she’s not with her phone?”

He’s probably right, but the feeling inside your gut is starting to root deeper and deeper within you the more time passes by, it’s ugly and it’s unpleasant. Like you can feel something is going entirely wrong though you can’t tell if you’re making things up or not at this point. You try to find comfort in Seungyoon’s sleeping form, his cheek pressed against your shoulder and his arms limp on his sides. 

It works along with the deep breath Seungcheol reminds you once again to take, and when your phone does ring thirty minutes later, it’s Seungcheol who takes it because Seungyoon squirms in your arms at the sudden noise.

It’s an unknown number, but the way his jaw tenses at whatever he’s hearing is making your heart twist with worry. You can’t even try to understand what they’re saying, because Seungcheol doesn’t say anything but ‘yes’, but it must be important if he’s still listening, and the last thing you heard before he hangs up is not a sentence you wish to hear in midst of your worry. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for informing us.

The way he looks at you makes your throat tightens, you can probably feel dread at the tip of your tongue. You hold Seungyoon tighter for the sake of your sanity, the toddler has fallen back to sleep. When Seungcheol speaks, your eyes blur with tears and you hate the way you already know what he’s saying before he even finishes his sentence.

The one time you wish you were wrong, you just have to be right.

“Yuri’s in the hospital. She’s in the ICU and we need to get there immediately.”

You’re trying your best not to bawl on your way there, thankful for Seungcheol as he drives as fast as he’s allowed to, Seungyoon no longer asleep but cluelessly plays with your hair as he obediently stays on your lap. It’s like he knows you’re not okay, knows not to throw a tantrum and not to ask to sit by himself at the back like he usually would. 

Like he knows you need him with you to keep you sane.

Seungcheol looks calm, but the way his palm grips yours obviously indicates otherwise and you try to distract yourself from all the worst possibilities in your mind by thinking of how lucky you are to have him with you of all people. You know he’s worried out of his mind too, but he still takes your hand because he knows you need it, knows that it helps to keep you grounded even if you have your nephew on your lap.

It doesn’t last for long though, and you don’t know what to think of Seungcheol’s lack of explanation. Yes, he confirmed that Yuri is also involved in the same accident as Jeonghan’s sister, but he didn’t say anything else. But does he really need to when he’s already said Yuri is in the ICU? If she had been okay, she would be in the ER at most; but they felt the need to take her to the ICU and that must be saying something.

Did the speaker not say anything to him? Or does he simply not want to give you empty hopes?

“Hey.” His voice brings you out of your trance and you squeeze his hand out of reflex. “I’ll be here, okay?”

You tear up again and nod, your arm that’s around your nephew tightens.

Seungyoon shifts at this, buries himself in your neck and wraps his arms around your neck like he knows you need it more than you do.

[✾✾✾]

Jinyoung is already there when you arrive, and he hugs you tight like he’s preparing you for bad news, like he needs to calm you down because whatever follows after isn’t going to be pleasant.

Seungyoon is in Seungcheol’s arms, breaking the older man’s heart by asking why they’re in the doctor’s place over and over again. Seungcheol assures him he’s not going to get shot when the toddler almost cries saying he doesn’t want to see the doctor today, promises to buy him ice cream later on if he doesn’t cry and stays in his arms.

“Is… is it bad?” You manage to choke between your tears. Jinyoung is rarely unkept, but he’s disheveled and if he’s like this then you don’t know if you want to hear what he has to say. You’re sure the doctor has filled him in on something, Jinyoung is registered as both your and Yuri’s emergency contact and if he’s here before you do, they must have told him something.

He takes a few moments to compose himself and arranges his words, his hands holding yours like it’s his lifeline.

“They aren’t sure she’s going to make it.”

More tears spill out of your eyes, though you try to contain your sob because Seungyoon is right behind you with Seungcheol, though when Jinyoung gives your friend a look, he’s quick to take Seungyoon somewhere out of sight so you can finally cry, cry, and cry until your tears dry out.

Yuri might not make it. You swallow the words like needles between your throat, your lips trembling as you stubbornly try to contain your despair. But when Jinyoung pulls you once again into his chest and whispers words of comfort you wish you could tell Yuri who’s by herself in the operating room, the dam breaks and you grip the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

You don’t want to think of the worst case scenario. Don’t want to think of a life without your sister. But how can you not when you’ve been there in front of the OR for two hours? How can you not when your consciousness is going in and out of your head and the only thing that reminds you you’re awake is Seungcheol’s soft breath and the steady pattern of his heartbeat?

“Drink something?” He asks, his voice hesitant. You haven’t talked at all since Jinyoung told you Yuri might not make it, and you’re thankful Seungcheol doesn’t force you to either when he comes back with your nephew in tow. Jinyoung fills him in quickly between whispers before taking the kid with him and Seungcheol doesn’t waste a second to hold you because you look like you’re seconds away from fainting.

You shake your head even though your throat is dry and you honestly feel like you’re about to pass out any moment now. The only thing that’s keeping you here right now is Seungcheol: he’s basically plastered to you and he refuses to let go of you since earlier, which you appreciate so much because you don’t know if you even have it in you to sit straight without him by your side. You’ve just been spacing out in his embrace for two hours straight, his arm around you and your forehead on the juncture of his neck.

“Mommy?” Seungyoon’s voice brings you out of your trace, and you find him with Jinyoung, though the boy immediately lets go of his hand once he sees the state you’re in. Seungyoon only calls you that when he thinks you’re sad, a nickname that Yuri has always encouraged him for because even if he doesn’t have a father, she makes sure to let him know that he has two mothers who would do everything for him and you’re one of them.

He calls Yuri Mama, and he usually calls you ‘Mi’ because it’s easier than ‘Mommy’. He very rarely calls you by the latter because no one refers to you as such and he’s not used to it most of the time. But he knows you usually smile when he does it, which is why he only calls you that way when he thinks you’re upset. 

“Mommy okay?” He climbs into your lap, making your eyes water once again. God, this precious child might lose his own mother and he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a thing and you pray once again to every deity in existence that you wouldn’t need to tell Seungyoon he wouldn’t be able to see his mom again.

He frowns when you don’t giggle like you usually would, though you do force a smile as you pull him into a hug.

“I’m sorry I left you with Uncle Jinyoung.” You say instead, not wanting to lie to the kid when you’re obviously not okay. “He’s boring, isn’t he?”

His small giggle warms you a little, but then he shakes his head and tells you Uncle Jinyoung is fun today and he buys him food earlier. You hum as he continues to blabber, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Jinyoung when he catches your eyes.

“Yoon, will you tell Mi to drink water?” Seungcheol hands the bottle to your nephew, knowing full well you can’t resist him. You pretend to glare at him, aware that Seungcheol knows how grateful you are with him by your side. Seungcheol has just texted Jisoo that you’re both in the hospital for Yuri, and she promises she’ll drop by as soon as possible after informing him that thankfully Jeonghan’s sister is okay even though she has a minor concussion.

“Mi, water.” He repeats after the older man, his hands can barely hold the water bottle straight.

You thank him as you take a gulp, only now realizing how thirsty you actually are. Seungyoon shifts to play with your hair, still blissfully unaware why you’re all in the hospital, though he’s just happy in his bubble to be surrounded by you and his uncles.

For a second, you let a little bit of hope pass through you. You hope it can stay peaceful like this, with Seungyoon in your arms as you pretend you’re waiting for Yuri to come home.

Yeah, you’re waiting for her to come out, aren’t you?

Right–you’re so going to give her hell for all the worry and tears she made you shed. For making you lose it in front of Seungyoon and making you cry in front of Jinyoung, of all people. Yuri is in for a lot of nagging once she wakes up. Sick or not, you’re still going to scream at her and you’re going to hug her tight because it doesn’t make sense how deep the dread she makes you feel right now.

Yeah, that’s what you’re going to do.

She’s going to make it. She might not wake up immediately after the surgery, but you’re going to do all that when she wakes up and–

Min Yuri’s family?

And you’re going to lock her in a headlock like you usually would when she’s being annoying–

We’re sorry…

And you’re going to bawl into her chest like you used to when you were six–

…tried out best… 

And she’s going to laugh at you because she never knows what to do when you cry–

…too weak and…

But she’ll still hug you back because that’s what sisters are for–

…we’re sorry.

Because you only have each other.

Only have each other.

Had each other.

Your eyes get more and more blurry by the seconds, everything came crashing all over your body from head to toe, it’s getting harder to breathe, someone is holding you and—

You don’t know what happened after.

[✾✾✾]

On your eighteenth birthday, Yuri gave you a silver band and said you’re not allowed to take it off unless someone she approved of proposed. That you’re only allowed to take it off on your wedding day where she’d definitely be your maid of honor because who else would?

It’s a promise that I’ll be with you until I’m sure someone else will take care of you as well as I do.

You have never taken off your ring since then, never had any intention to, either. But now that you stare at it as you pack her belongings in her place, you want nothing but to rip it off your finger like it burns.

Didn’t she promise to be with you until then?

Didn’t she promise to make sure that whoever’s going to marry you is worthy of taking her ring off for?

Didn’t she fucking promise you she wouldn’t leave you behind like your parents did?

“Hey. Maybe it’s time to rest?” You look up at Seungcheol who’s hovering on the door. He looks only a little better than you are, but who can blame him when he hasn’t gone home at all since that day in the hospital? He’s been with you since then; Jisoo and Jinyoung take turns going back and forth, even Jeonghan stays for a bit when he has the time. 

Seungcheol was with you when you spent that night in the hospital, when you cried next to Yuri’s body before they closed the coffin, when you went home with Seungyoon to your place because you couldn’t bear to go to Yuri’s place just yet, and now, when you finally gathered the courage to go to her place and pack her stuff because who else will?

“Don’t you have work?” You ask instead, feeling bad that he’s been with you basically 24/7 the past week.

“You know my work allows me to work from anywhere.” He smiles a little before taking the seat next to you on the floor. “Let’s get lunch? Seungyoon says he wants jjajangmyeon.”

Seungyoon. Your poor child. You don’t think he really understands what’s happening. Jinyoung had kindly taken over your role to relay the information to the kid, but he had simply asked if his mom was going somewhere when Jinyoung said he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore.

You’re sure he would’ve cried seeing you bawl if not for Seungcheol quickly pulling you with him and holding you in his arms as you tried your best to block your sob, barely making out the conversation between the two.

Mama is in heaven now.

“Is it nice?”

Hmm. The best. But you won’t be able to see her anymore.

“Even if I miss her?”

Yes. It’s too far and if she has to come here, she’ll get very tired and might even get sick. We don’t want that, right?

“But what if I want see Mama?”

Then you’ll have to wait until the sky turns dark and the stars are visible. Mama is one of the stars now. Is that okay?

“But… there are so many…”

Seungyoon is smart, though. Aren’t you?

“Hmm..”

Then I’m sure you’ll know which one is Mama?

“Mmm… Want Mommy… Where’s Mommy?”

“Mommy?” Seungyoon has been calling you that often now. You’re not sure if he’s simply too confused or if it’s because you’ve been looking too upset these days, but his small voice always makes your heart clenches in the most painful way possible because it sounds like he knows he can’t call his own mom anymore. It’s getting harder and harder to hear him call you anything of the sort because it reminds you that his Mama is no longer around. “Hungry.”

Jisoo looks at you in apology from the door. She’s been with Seungyoon earlier, telling him they have to pack his toys because he’ll be moving with you and no longer live there. The boy has been more quiet these days, and you feel bad because you think he’s quiet because he’s tired and he doesn’t know what’s happening; why you barely talk and why his mom is not here.

“Uncle Cheol said you want jjajangmyeon?” You say as you take him in your arms, the boy suddenly shy as he nods and buries himself in your neck. “Do you want to eat outside or here?”

“Out okay?” he asks, almost hesitant. Then continues to make your heart hurt when he says his next words. “Mommy always inside these days…”

“Oh, baby.” You bite your lip and murmur an apology against his forehead. The way you hug him is more for you then it is for Seungyoon, but he tightens his arms around you also and asks once again if it’s okay to eat outside. “We can. Let’s go with Uncle Cheol and Auntie Choo, yeah?”

Seungcheol opts to go to the jjajangmyeon place you used to go to during university instead of the one nearby. It takes almost an hour to get there, but he thinks you need it and he’s sure the owner of the jjajangmyeon place near Yuri’s apartment would definitely be asking about her–which you definitely don’t need.

It’s been quite some time since Seungyoon went anywhere too, so he figures he could at least give that to the kid.

“Been some time since we went here, huh?” It really has. The last time was probably a year ago or something, because life gets in the way and even though you’ve been saying you wanted to come here again, the both of you are always too lazy and the university seems too far away even if it’s not really.

Still, the owner recognizes you two and happily takes your order which hasn't changed since the time you were in university.

Apparently, the old lady hasn’t changed either, because her eyes sparkle with interest as she sees Seungyoon in your arms. You dread her question already, knowing what she’d ask before she even does.

But as much as you expected her words, nothing prepared you for her whole sentences.

“Oh my. Is this your kid? He looks so much like you. I knew you two would get married one day.” She says as she addresses you and Seungcheol, way too excited to notice the horrified look you share with your best friend, nor Jisoo who’s trying her best not to laugh at the sudden turn of events.

You don’t even get the chance to deny her statement, because she already turns back to the kitchen then returns just as quick, giving Seungyoon a pack of jelly that’s supposedly her grandson’s.

“What a nice kid.” She smiles at Seungyoon who thanks her with a cheeky smile, the boy clutches the jelly like you’d take it any moment now. “My grandson used to cry all the time at his age. What a nice mom you have, hmm? She’s brought you up really well.”

“Mommy the best.” Seungyoon replies cheekily, which concludes the conversation because that seems to be enough for the owner to leave your table.

Once again, you’re thankful Seungcheol is beside you as you exhale a deep breath and try to swallow your tears on his shoulder. This is just a taste of what you’d need to deal with more in the future; people mistaking you as Seungyoon’s mom and you’ll somehow get the credit for everything Yuri did to make sure Seungyoon grew up well.

It’s not fair.

Nothing is and you hate that there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Mommy?” Seungyoon tugs softly on your hair to catch your attention. “Feed me?”

You tear up again at this, because Seungyoon has actually been insisting on eating by himself the past few months, saying he’s a big boy and that he can manage eating by himself. Does he know? That you need him to depend on you? That you need something to distract you?

“Want Mommy to feed me.” He repeats, his voice faltering at your lack of response. How long have you been neglecting him? How selfish can you be, drowning in your own sorrow like Seungyoon hasn’t lost his own mother? He’s probably even more lost than you are, with Yuri gone and you disassociating for a whole week.

You’re lucky Seungyoon has always been a nice kid, that he simply accepts that his aunt and uncles were to take care of him for the week. 

How fucking selfish can you be? 

“Yeah.” You square your shoulder and drop a kiss on his head. It’s not only you that needs him, you remind yourself. Seungyoon also needs you and you’re going to give everything you have and more if it means he’s happy and healthy. “Mommy will feed you, okay?”

[✾✾✾]

A/N: i hope you enjoyed this aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa pls do send me your thoughts and feedbacks through ask or anything bc i'm still a writer that needs ur words to continue writing lol<3

series taglist: @cheolctrl @nap-of-a-starr @shiningstar-byulxx @itsveronicaxxx @shuahoshiscoups

➝ taglist is open, pls send me an ask instead of replying to the post so it's easier to keep track of the taglist!

[I don’t allow any reposting or translation, so please do tell me if you find anyone reposting my works. You can only find me on tumblr or my Ao3. –wonwoonlight.]

[violetganache42]

Ooooh, boy. This has been an announcement I have been dying to share for almost a year now, and I think this is the perfect time to make it because I'm not joking when I say this:

I'M GOING TO LAS VEGAS AND CALIFORNIA FOR THE FIRST TIME!

Okay, so there is a funny story on how that happened. One day during the spring last year, Mom was looking at dates for us to go see Garth Brooks in concert again and saw that he currently has concert residency in Las Vegas. Despite the initial debate on whether we should go or not considering the huge distance between there and our home, she ultimately bought the tickets for it because we've never been to Vegas before. And that's just only the beginning. lol

Later that same year, during the summer, Mom and I were running errands and talking about our upcoming trip to Vegas. She mentioned how this was gonna be the closest she'll be to California; it's her birth state and the last time she was there was a few decades ago, so she couldn't not go visit there again. Not even a second later, I simply replied, "✨Disneyland~.✨" Pizazz and all. XD She immediately said that she didn't even think of that at all, which had me laughing, and it quickly led to our trip becoming full-fledged family vacation plans. The planning was a gradual process because at the time, we were more focused on our second Orlando vacation in September and me staying with my older sister in Milwaukee from late December to mid-January while Mom was in London and Paris. With all of that out of the way, we've been finalizing our Las Vegas and California plans for the past few months; now, I can officially say we'll be on vacation from Apr. 24 to May 4.

I still cannot believe this is actually happening! I never thought I would end up going to the other side of the country for anything. And lemme tell you, there are a number of things I am already looking forward to checking out: the sights of Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon, going to Toontown and Super Nintendo World, possibly visiting Mom's birth town! I am super excited!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 29

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, Tywin/Cersei POV

Words: 3065

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Out in the training yard an eight year-old Aerys Targaryen and a ten year-old Tywin Lannister commence their swinging of swords. Tywin went easy on the young prince as he was also trying to display form to an even younger six year-old Steffon Baratheon, Prince Aerys’ cousin. The little page watched entranced and listened to every word that Tywin told him. Admiration kept his attention pierced on the older boy. Even though Tywin was King Aegon’s page, the king allowed him to play with them. It felt good to still be able to feel like a child. Tywin had always been a serious one and only got out of his shell when he was with Aerys and Steffon. He hadn’t seen his own brothers in quite some time so he unconsciously adopted the two.

Steffon claps, thick black hair that had the tendency to get leaves stuck in it. “I want to try!”

Aerys chuckled as if he knew all there was to the world. “You are too young. Perhaps in another year or so.”

“Watching is good enough for you right now. Watch and learn.” agreed Tywin, going to ruffle his prince’s silver-blonde hair.

Violet eyes glanced up at him. Once upon a time, Tywin would have fought for him; maybe would have even died for him. Once upon a time, Aerys had even been Tywin’s brother in arms.

Now he hardly recognized the man that people call the Mad King. He was a complete stranger now who had cut off all ties to those that had once loved him dearly before the Targaryen madness ate away at his brain. The gods always flipped a coin when a Targaryen was born; unfortunately for Aerys, it landed on the wrong side. Tywin could still remember a time when Aerys had been normal and even slightly charming. That was the prince he had grown up with. Hot-tempered, he had always been, but back in those days Aerys had been the most generous person Tywin had known. A tragedy really how things ended up. Now Tywin hated to recall those happy memories of Aerys dancing during events with a carefree grin. If he allowed such a thought to continue to plague him, he would grow morose. The lord of Casterly Rock couldn’t afford such emotions. There were more important things to take care of then remembering times long ago.

Since the disappearance of Tyrion though, young Aerys’ laughter was starting to come back to him. Tyrion had had no friends close like Aerys and Steffan had been to him. The boy had no chance. When he was first told that Tyrion was missing, part of Tywin thought it a blessing. Tywin dreaded looking upon his deformed son’s face. Such a face didn’t deserve the name of Lannister, yet Joanna had given birth to him. He was a part of her as much as the Western Warden hated to admit it. It was like Joanna was still alive in some way, reminding Tywin to be kind to Tyrion. That’s what she would have wanted. His darling Joanna. The children that had destroyed her health so much were the ones he knew she loved the most. If she had lived. . . Most certainly Joanna would have adored Tyrion. That was how beautiful her heart was. She would have been so proud how smart he was and how eloquent his speech pattern as he already talked like a little lord. A little lord that he would never truly be.

Drifting thoughts lead him to Jaime.

Jaime.

That boy always did whatever he pleased despite his father’s wishes. Where had Jaime gone? A small part of Tywin had hoped that perhaps the Kingsguard would straighten his son out, make him develop some morals to live by. It had only made Jaime more cocky than he had already been.

Now he was left with only. . .

“My lord.”

The steward held out a rolled up piece of parchment. “A raven from the Red Keep has delivered this message. . .” There was uncertainty in the quiver of his voice. What insults were written inside?

Tywin unfurled the parchment with his fingers and reads. The steward waited for further instruction from his lord. Poor boy jumped when Tywin, the normally stoic lord with a cold demeanor, made the closest sound to a laugh that he had ever heard him make. Rumor was that only the late Lady Joanna was able to genuinely make her husband laugh. And that had been but three times in public.

He covers it easily with his hand. Pale green eyes flick to the young boy who had been patiently waiting. “Tell my brother that I request his presence.” Gaze returns to the dried ink. It was Aerys’ own handwriting, although a bit illegible. The lines and curves of his words were shaky from the king’s hand tremors that he now suffered from. How dare Aerys’ have the audacity to demand of Tywin help in defeating his own son. After all the king had done to him, now he demanded his former Hand send an army to protect King’s Landing. At least the last missive that he had received from the capital had been more of a request. Tywin knew though that his army would not really be protecting King’s Landing, but King Aerys. The king must now have realized that he was not as indestructible as he had previously thought. Rhaegar had defeated the troop the king had sent after setting wildfire loose near Tumbleton and the Blackwater Rush river. It had stalled Rhaegar for months. Even worse was the news of the former Lord of Winterfell and his son. Brandon and Rickard Stark had been burned alive. Maybe the news of the northern troops retreating back to their lands had made Aerys cocky enough to try and eliminate Rhaegar then and there. He forgot the raw power of Robert Baratheon of Storm’s End and the wild fighting skills of the Dornish. Onlookers of the battle said it was finished within three hours.

And now King Aerys’ was tipping over the edge, spiraling quickly down to his own demise. Soon he would hit the ground with a splat. He could sense even now those that had once swore fealty to him were moving to Rhaegar's side. After the stunt with wildfire, even those who benefitted from his reign were now drawing back. Not helping matters, since the land near King's Landing was scorched and untraveable, no goods could be transferred in or out of the capitol. People would soon begin to starve.

He had done much to humiliate and insult Tywin, a man who would have done anything for him when they were kids. Aerys had made a vulgar rumor about taking Joanna’s virginity before Tywin. Accepted Jaime into the King’s Guard, forbidding him from marriage and from becoming the next Lord of Casterly Rock. Worst of all, Aerys had orchestrated the marriage between Rhaegar and (y/n).

That had been the end of everything. The death of any kind of attachment that Tywin may have had left for Aerys.

“You no longer want her to be a queen? But you have been talking about your dreams of (y/n) becoming a queen when she grew up.” Tywin reminded his wife who had been acting strange for the past few days. Worry made her already pale face ashen. When she looked upon (y/n) who was but four years old, Joanna’s eyes would grow red with tears that wanted freedom.

Tears filled her eyes making her turn away from her husband. She knew how silly it was when she said these things out loud. Joanna didn’t know what else to do but confide in Tywin who was the best confidant she had ever known. Always grounded, Joanna had wanted Tywin to tell her that these were all just silly dreams that meant nothing. They had originally made her feel great joy. Dreaming of her daughter becoming a regal queen. Not the daughter Tywin had expected, but the one that had nearly died at birth. Unlike Cersei’s great beauty, there was nothing extraordinary about (y/n). She was a basic child but she did have the tendency to hide any wounds she may have acquired during play or when she experienced one of her “accidents” which Joanna knew Cersei had to be involved in.“I know. But if she becomes queen. . . oh Tywin. I know all of this sounds strange to you. The dreams I’ve had. . . they can’t just be random.”

Tywin didn’t like entertaining dreams. But he loved Joanna and it ached to see her so scared. “What will happen if she becomes queen?”

Joanna shakes her head. “No, she will. And that will be the beginning of the end for her. . .”

That’s all they had been: silly dreams. (y/n) hadn’t even made it to becoming queen. She was still a princess when she died in the tower fire, but not a queen. Thinking of it put a stone in his chest. At least now mother and daughter were reunited in the afterlife. That gave Tywin a bit of comfort.

A brief knock and his study door opens to reveal his younger brother Kevan. Clean cut with magnificent scarlet clothes, Kevan bows to his brother whom he revered highly.

“You called?”

“Sit and read this.”

Obediently Kevan does so. Thick heavy brows crinkle in the middle as he advances in the letter. The slight trembling of his hand told Tywin that he thought this equally ridiculous. He reads a part out loud:

“Failure to attend to the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms will result in a siege of your estates and the stripping of your title.”

His face was red with indignation. Kevan looks up at his older brother. “Is this real? He can’t possibly think this would make you take action. . .”

“Threats are all he knows now. He fails to remember that threats such as this don’t work on me.” Tywin smoothly replies but pleased that his brother’s reaction aligned with his.

“What will you do? Has the time come to send our men out to Rhaegar Targaryen?”

Leaning forward on his elbows, Tywin regards his brother. What had he told Cersei?

Caution.

When playing the game, one had to act cautiously. Don’t throw yourself head first into battle.

“Tell our men to be prepared for travel at any moment.” Tywin riffles through his desk drawers before placing a piece of parchment on the surface. His ink pen, he began t0 write in scratchy letters. “And tell Cersei to come to my studies.”

Kevan nods yet hesitates when he was supposed to leave. “Forgive me for speaking out of term, but what about Tyrion?”

“What about Tyrion?”

“He’s still missing. Would you like me to send some men to search the surrounding area of Lannisport? He couldn’t have possibly gotten far and I don’t believe we’ve searched there yet. He could be hiding out in an inn, unbeknownst to anyone. He’s small and cunning. I wouldn’t put it past Tyrion to smooth talk his way in.” Tywin’s younger brother had always had a soft spot for his dwarf nephew.

His hand pauses mid-stroke. There was a slim chance that Tyrion was still alive. It had already been a month since he had escaped Casterly Rock. When his septa had informed Tywin that she could not find the young boy anywhere, Tywin had sent out a customary search party. No one found any sign of the boy having passed through.

As if Joanna’s ghost was looming over him with disapproval in her spectre gaze, Tywin sighed. “If you must.” He knew if Tyrion didn’t want to be found then he wouldn’t. All the misfortunes the young boy had faced did nothing to dull his mind. Tyrion from a very young age proved to be incredibly astute, far more than Jaime had been at the same age. If only things had been different. There was no way that Tywin could allow Tyrion to take his title, no matter how smart the boy was. No one would respect him because of his deformity. He could potentially turn into another soft ruler, much like Tywin’s own father Tytos. And Casterly Rock could not survive another Tytos.

Tywin went back to writing, ears waiting for the closing of his study door.

Cersei’s stomach was twisted with knots. She didn’t like the feeling.

No word from the darkin. Absolutely nothing to show that he had finished the deed. What if what she had seen had been wrong? But how could she deny witnessing herself the tall man blending into the shadows before completely disappearing. He wasn’t a fake, that was certain. Certainly Inniros Orelelion would want to get this task over and done with to receive the other half of his payment. It had been quite some time since the two met, surely a man of his pedigree could easily kill someone like (y/n). Unless Jaime was protecting her, which Cersei had a high suspicion of. Even Jaime was no match for a darkin.

All she could do was pace the courtyard, unable to burn off the uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right. Something had gone wrong if the darkin hadn’t returned. Jaime couldn’t have possibly killed Inniros. Cersei worshipped her brother’s fighting skills. There was no one in the world like Jaime. His sword was an extension of his arm. He was still a regular mortal though.

Then she stopped, another chilling thought: what if Inniros had accidentally killed Jaime?

She gripped at the lacing of her front bodice.

What if in protecting (y/n), that pathetic creature, Jaime had died fighting Inniros?

If Jaime was dead, surely she would have sensed something through their bond as twins.

The thought lingered though and made it difficult to breathe in any fresh air that might soothe her frantic mind.

Her father had requested her presence. She had to compose herself. And compose herself she did. Taking a deep breath despite the constriction she felt inside, she went back inside the castle. The winds from the sea tried to pull her back out, tugging gently on her blond hair as it swept by.

“Sit.” Her father instructed once she stepped in, his head tilted down as he continued to scribble something important she surmised by the furrow of his brow.

Cersei wants to look at the parchment, see what has caused her father such an expression. From her angle she was unable to see anything except Tywin’s speedy hand moving from line to line of his letter. The hair on top of his head was thinning badly opposed to the thick gold sideburns that framed his jaw. His long face held no youth, having been bled of it years ago. Joanna had loved to run her hand along the length of Tywin’s face, brushing her fingertips against his sideburns made him melt against her. What had she seen in this cold and callous man to make her fall in love? True it had been an arranged marriage, but no one could deny that Tywin and Joanna were genuinely head over heels in love with one another. It made sense that Tywin would succumb to the beauty of Joanna, but what made Joanna love this gnarled lion? She would never know.

“I have been told we are short in our vaults. Someone has been stealing from me.”

Steady green eyes hold her father’s gaze.

“Do you have an idea who it might be?”

“How would I know? I have no need to go to the vaults.” Her reply rolled off of her tongue easily. Lying had become second nature to Cersei. And she was quite good at it. She got better and better at lying the older she got. The trick was convincing yourself that what you said was true. Most people would let their conscience get the best of them and crumble under their resolve. Cersei was made of stronger stuff. “Is this all you called me in for father?” She stood to leave but the door opened suddenly revealing two men in Casterly Rock armor. Panic was not allowed inside of her. She squared up these men then turned to Tywin.

His eyes haven’t left her. “Your maid has told us otherwise, Cersei. What would you need all that gold for?”

That stupid wench.

Acid rose in her and she wanted to rip that maid’s throat open for snitching on her. “As I have told you, I didn’t go to the vaults. She must be mistaken. And even if I did, that gold is Lannsister gold. Are I not a Lannister? Do I not have a right to it?”

The low creak of his chair as he stands sends a flutter of wariness in her chest. “That’s precisely it my dear. You won’t be considered a Lannister for much longer.” he motions for the men to step closer. Cersei takes two steps back. She was starting to feel cornered. “Which is why I’m sending you to Dorne to get acclimated to your new family and customs.

There was a silence before the storm made Cersei’s face redden. “I will not go.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow. “It’s not up to you, Cersei.”

The two knights were closing in on her. “I will not go to Dorne, father.” Her voice was trembling with hostility. She felt her eyes wildly searching everywhere in Tywin’s study for a way out, something that would help her. There was no Jaime to tell Tywin that Cersei should stay.

Cersei narrows her eyes at Tywin. “I’m not going! You can’t treat me like. . . Like I’m (y/n)!” Hands were clamping down on her shoulder and arm, now she was thrashing. Her full fury took over her. “You can’t treat me like I’m (y/n) father!!”

It was most unbefitting to watch his normally prim and proper daughter become unhinged. Emotionless, Tywin stands right in front of her. “Oh Cersei. What had I told you? Caution. Watch where you step when you play this game with me, Cersei. And at least your sister was able to make herself into a princess all on her own.”

That comment sent Cersei screaming as the knights dragged her away.

She would have been queen had it not been for (y/n).

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[houseofbrat]

Submission: Catherine's Flex

I read an analysis of American blogger who doesn’t follow the BRF and had some frankly whackadoodle theories on other aspects of the current situation, but she did say something that struck a chord with me. That Catherine was on strike. This makes so much more sense to me than this cancer diagnosis and treatment that don’t jive with any standard medical protocols. Either she’s battling for her life, or she’s told the BRF to stuff it. Something happened. I doubt we will ever know what it is, but it's major. She’s been seen out-and-about with the kids so it’s obvious that she’s healthy enough to do the school run. That statement that she’s getting support from her “birth family,” I see as a grenade thrown squarely at her husband, pin pulled, everything. She’s pissed. This flies in the face of all these bullshit reports that William is by her side 24-7, feeding her tea with an eye-dropper type of devotion. Nope. The thing about a person like Catherine, she’s very loving and forgiving until a point. When you betray her, there’s no turning back. I think she’s done with the BRF for the near future. Some enormous betrayal happened over the Christmas holidays. I’m at the point where I question even if she’s ever been ill.

—————————-

YUP!

I think Kate was having problems before Christmas, but that’s because I noticed her “dead eyes” in the Christmas card photo, which was taken before December 2023. 

But did you notice in the US Weekly story how it said Will & Kate are “reconnecting”?

The reprieve is a welcome one for the couple. “The announcement that the royals won’t be able to work as much has been unexpected, but it will allow Kate and William to spend more time together,” says the second source. “They’ve been reconnecting and are closer than ever.”

WHY do they suddenly need to “reconnect”? Were they disconnected at some point this year? Or late last year?

Just less than two months ago, Rebecca English published a story about how William couldn’t go back to full-time duties just yet. 

And William has found himself facing a new battle: one that has struck at the very foundation of everything he holds dear.

One can only imagine the weight on his shoulders at seeing both his adored wife and his father facing serious simultaneous health crises, while also trying to protect his three young children from this devastating blow to their little world.

And while, fortunately, the King appears to be responding well to treatment and is hopeful of taking up more forward-facing public duties in the near future, recent events will have been a stark reminder of what awaits the Wales’ in the not so distant future.

It is why, although his appearances today were both welcome and heartfelt, we should not expect to see a wholesale return to royal duties for the prince.

Instead, I understand, he is likely to undertake one or two public engagements each week - often on the same day in order to minimise time away from Kate and the children - as well as continuing with his usual behind-the-scenes work.He will, I am told, almost certainly take some sort of role around the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings in June, as well as attending Trooping the Colour and the annual Order of the Garter service and, perhaps, one of the annual summer garden parties for worthy community heroes.

So…right after William’s four-week Easter break with the kids, he could only work ONE DAY PER WEEK due to needing TO BE WITH KATE. But two months later they are “reconnecting”?!

OH-kay.

But really, this goes back to January when Kate was at The London Clinic, and William allegedly visited her there every day. Or–more specifically–we were told he visited her every day, he was only photographed leaving ONCE. 

I have always wondered why William and his motorcade were never papped either arriving or leaving the area of The London Clinic except for that ONE DAY. The place was crawling with paps, and not a single one of them got a photo of William’s motorcade in the area any other day Kate was there. Not a single one.

People can say that he used the back entrance. Fine. But William still has to travel to the back entrance in his motorcade before he can walk in the back entrance. And yet–AND YET–his motorcade was never papped traveling to the back entrance from any angle on those days he was allegedly visiting privately.

It has long been my opinion that William was NOT there those other days. He didn’t visit because Kate didn’t want to see him. At all.

By the way, have you seen https://whereiskatemiddleton.com?

Complete with a counter on how long it’s been since Kate was seen out and about in public on Christmas Day.

[purplesurveys]

1906

Are any of your friendships on a fine line? No, I feel very secure with the circle I have, as much smaller as it's gotten over the years.

If I search your room will I find birth control? No but from my room you will hear my neighbors who for some reason seem to have 10 fucking kids under one roof just screeching all day, which also works as birth control.

Do you expect any of your ex’s to call or text you? Her, setting her pride down to reach out first? Not in this lifetime.

Have you ever witnessed a birth? Nope.

Where’s your favorite place to be when you feel depressed? I like being either in my bed, in my car parked somewhere away, or in a coffee shop.

Are you currently looking forward to tomorrow? Only because it'll still be the weekend then, but we don't necessarily have any plan set for tomorrow.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand? Maybe a few weeks ago when I held Angela's hand.

Have you ever faked sick? Sure but very sparingly. I hate lying, and since I don't file many leaves anyway I usually just use my normal vacation leaves.

Do you wear hoodies to bed? Absolutely never, unless it's Jan/Feb.

Are you currently wearing jeans? No. The weather here is constantly hot and humid so after a day of wearing jeans I usually want them off of me as soon as possible lol.

Do you buy eggnog around the holidays? I've never had eggnog and it's not at all a staple in this part of the world. I personally find it appetizing though and would like to try it at least once.

Have you gone to a coffee shop within the past week? [i.e. Starbucks] Yes, I was just in one a couple of hours ago.

Would you like to be able to read thoughts? It would be terrible if it ran 24/7 lmao, but it would be convenient to have that ability when I need to understand someone better.

Are you often the last one to understand a joke? Hehehe, sometimes yeah...

Your first black eye: Did you give it or get it? What's with black eyes and why is this the second consecutive survey to mention them lol? Anyway, I've never had it and I've never given it.

Do you think baseball is a dying professional sport in America? I don't think so? Isn't the Ohtani guy still huge over there? In any case, at least in the eyes of a foreigner, American sports still scream baseball and American football to me.

Does playing the guitar make a guy more attractive? Not to me.

Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out? I've slept in a tent outdoors but it was super tame. It wasn't in the middle of the forest or anything like that, and it was just held in school as an overnight activity lmao.

What does your hair look like at the moment? Acceptable.

Are you mad right now? No, just tired.

Who did you spend your summer with last year? My work.

Did you eat a cookie today? Not today but yesterday.

Have you heard of wreck this journal? Yes. I so wanted one when I was a teenager, but I never got one because I knew I was nowhere near creative enough to make something artsy out of it.

Do you know any one who lives in California? That's like one of the migration hotspot states for Filipinos lmao. I know tons of people who've moved there or who vacation there.

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Yes.

What do you put on your baked potatoes? Uh, just bacon and cheese. I don't have baked potatoes much.

Have you ever been on a farm? Sure.

Last three texts on your phone are from? All related to work as I don't use text for much else.

What are you listening to? I can hear my fan whirring and birds chirping while taking refuge on my aircon. :)

Are you one to take naps? No. I find sleeping to be a waste of time looooool; my free time is very very precious to me and I want to spend as much of it as possible catching up on the things I like doing the most.

Did you ever have braces? I had them but didn't wear my retainers frequently enough so they got crooked again, so I currently have them again for round two lol.

Have you kissed anyone in the last five days? Nope.

Are you afraid of flying? No. I like being on airplanes. Of course watching videos of plane crashes makes me feel terrible, but I try not to think of the possibility when I do fly.

Do you have freckles? I don't.

Do you have plans for today? Just this and maybe playing my game. I just want to do nothing for as long as I can hahaha.

Would you rather date someone five years older or five years younger than you? Older. I don't know if I can manage a 21 year old...

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? We haven't talked in nearly four hours; we just don't need to anymore.

If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick? Probably avocado.

What were you doing at 7:45AM this morning? Fast asleep.

What was the last thing you drank? Coffee that was way too strong haha. My chest was on overdrive for a while but fortunately it's mellowed down a bit now.

Where did you get the shirt your wearing? Zara.

Do you plan on sleeping in tomorrow? No. 

How often do you drink Monster? I've never had it.

Are you easy to get along with? I try to be, but I understand how I could be difficult to crack at first. I've just learned to be more guarded with my boundaries, that's all.

Are you short? 5'1".

Can you ever get enough of mac ‘n’ cheese? The taste does get tiring eventually, especially if I got a big serving; but it's great while I'm still enjoying it haha.

Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products? Not allergic, but I am lactose intolerant so I always need to get alternatives for my milk.

Do you have trust issues? Yes.

Is there someone you want to let go of? Nobody. I've never had a problem cutting off who needs to be cut off.

Do you think age matters in relationships?  Personally, it does.

Do you have any regrets? Sure.

Has anyone ever called the cops on you? Nope.

How old are you? 26.

Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? Nah.

Do you go to church every Sunday? I do with my family. I don't really have a choice until I'm able to move out. I never pay attention though and just use the hour to daydream.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone? I guess, yeah. It was four years ago since I last had feelings like that.

Do you like your height? It'll be cool to be a little taller, but it's not something I'm actively conscious about.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? Discounting work texts, the last guy I talked to isn't.

Could you go a week without brushing your teeth? Absolutely not.

What day is it? Saturday.

Are you usually awake at midnight? I am, yeah.

Does it get really cold where you live? Maybe in like January or February, but that's it.

When you get home from school / work do you change into your pjs right away? Not always right away, because sometimes I'm too tired to do anything else. Those times, I'd just change right before I go to bed.

Have you ever been peer pressured to smoke pot? There was never any peer pressure; me trying it once was my own decision.

Have you ever played the game Sims 3? I don't think I have.

What is the temperature currently in the town you live in? 29C.

Do you ever actually drink milk alone? Nope.

If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone? Yeah, it's what I've had since high school.

What year were you born in? 1998.

[griffinxgallo]

JACOB ELORDI, CIS MAN, HE/HER) Oh, is that GRIFFIN GALLO? I heard the TWENTY SEVEN year old is A GOOD PERSON. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are SOCIOPATHIC. Makes sense seeing how they are a CAPPO in the THE SERPENTS gang. (Leila, She/her, 24, est)

BASICS

Full Name: Griffin Antonio Gallo

Nickname: Griff, Gallo

Age: 27

DOB: October 27th 1997

Parents: Vincenzo and Isabella Gallo

Siblings: Twin Brother: Gabriel Gallo

Children: Torin Moretti, Raelynn Moretti Gallo

Hair color: brown

Eye color: Brown

Height: 6'5

Tattoos: tbd

Scars: tbd

Piercings: tbd

Sexuality: heterosexual

Occupation: tba

BACKGROUND

Gallo is a name you never want to cross. Known for being ruthless and forceful. Vincenzo and Isabella Gallo both come from families with the crime background so entering this world was never knew. They brought into this world 5 children who are neck deep in the innerworkings of the 'family business'

Griffin Gallo was the first-born son of the clan followed by Gabe minutes after. The two identical twins grew up attached to each other's hips. Where one fell, the other followed suit. While the boys were identical in every physical way, they could not be more different.

Gabe is known as their sunshine child. While his antics are more devilish quests, he is outgoing, loud, confident, and playful. Griffin always lurked in his shadow as he wished. As children, geo was their voice as a collective. He did all the talking, asking, and planning.

The Gallo's of course were worried at first by their son's closed-off personality but as he got older he was more open... to those closest to him. But some signs could not be ignored, like shooting squirrels in the backyard to having no emotional reaction when Grandpappy Gallo was shot in front of him. To anyone's naked eye, Griffin Gallo is the rudest, foul-mouthed, douchebag you could even encounter. He might even be a sociopath. He pins you with a glare that gives children nightmares. All except one.

Concerned for his well-being, his father sent him away at the age of 13 to a place for at risk youth. They did not know when they got their son back he would be worse off than when he left. The events that took place deeply traumatized the preteen and he still has not told a soul.

If there was one thing Griffin knew, it was that he did not want to take over. After 3 days in college, he dropped out and listed in the military. He was shit at school but worked well with discipline. He was strategic and it served him well. His longing for isolation made him one of the best snipers in his platoon. He enjoyed coming home to his long-term girlfriend, someone who understood his dark soul and loved him anyway, or so he thought.

While Griffin may be 'intense' deep down he is a lover boy with a cage protecting his heart. A heart that was shattered when his long-time girlfriend, Ella, dumped him out of the blue and ghosted him. Turns out being careless with condoms really does have consequences. two in this case.

9 months later, Griffin's ex gave birth to twins, Raelynn and Torin. When Raelynn grew sick, she desperately tried to make ends meet and afford treatment for her acute lymphoblastic leukemia. In hopes of giving Rae the best chance at life, she found herself at Griffin's door fessing up to her lies. She handed the 7-month-old girl to her father and said she wanted no contact from either of them before leaving town. While that might seem like a stab to the heart, the truth lies a bit darker.

Since becoming the sole caregiver of his child, Griffin was able to leave active duty and go to the reserves. Rae cancer allowed him to do so free of consequences. Since then he has become lost yet again on a career path and has taken a more active role in gang operations where his strategic defense training comes in handy.

A few weeks ago, Griffin found out about his son and his life was changed all over again

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Gabe Gallo - Griffin's twin brother. Known to be a bit more outgoing than his brooding twin. Geo is funny and playful with a cynical sense of humor. Both brothers are equally as lethal in their pursuits.

Ex gf/baby momma - She has now returned to town for a reason. While she is unsure of how long she will stay, she knows she will need to keep her secret as long as she can from Griffin Gallo.

Nanny - She is a trusted member of the 5 families, trusted enough to care for Griffin's daughter. With close proximity to Griffin she would overhear and see some things that should be considered classified, what she does with that information is up to you. This connection has a lot of potential plot paths with it.

[modestvm]

PENNY, 24, GMT; SHE/HER. | if you’re hearing VIENNA by BILLY JOEL playing, you have to know GABRIEL MOORE (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the THIRTY-FOUR year old HISTORY PROFESSOR has been in denver for, like, THREE YEARS. they’re known to be quite OBSTINATE, but being ALLOCENTRIC seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble JACOB ANDERSON. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WANDERING EMPTY MUSEUMS, THE GLOW FROM A LAPTOP SCREEN and ROLLED-UP SHIRT SLEEVES AND V-NECK JUMPERS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough! 

full name: gabriel isaac moore. nicknames: gabe, abe. gender and pronouns: cis man, he/him. age: thirty-four. sexuality: bisexual. date of birth: july 15th. zodiac sign: cancer ( loyal, creative, sensitive, insecure. ) place of birth:  bristol, england. occupation: assistant professor of history, university of denver.

born and raised in bristol, the youngest of three with two older sisters. as a diplomatic service officer their father was away more often than not, so gabe was raised by his mother and sisters.

his interest in writing, reading and history was a curveball. aside from his father, the rest of the family's interests were firmly rooted in stem. they were ( perhaps justifiably ) worried that gabriel's interests would not give him much success in life. but he was determined to pursue his passion and after graduating top of his class at bristol uni for undergrad, went on to get his master's and phd in history at st andrew's.

moved to london after graduation wondering what to do with himself and fell into teaching. completed his teaching qual and sought out a role teaching history whilst continuing to research and publish occasionally on the side to keep up with developments in the academic world.

( tw: car accident, injury, depression & ptsd ) was cycling to work as per usual one day when he was hit by a drunk driver at a crossing. he woke up just short of a week later to a shock. gabe had been lucky, really. at least, that's what everyone said -- at the time he couldn't only think that was a cruel thing to say. his right leg had been amputated, originally below the knee but complications did not go his way and so shortly after he became an above knee amputee. otherwise, he was pretty much unscathed - scars here and there the only thing to show of his ordeal now.

slightly reeling and with nothing to really do during his recovery, gabriel turned back to the work he loved. this was something of a relief to friends and family as, not unexpectedly, gabe was diagnosed with ptsd and depression immediately following the accident and suffered during much of his recovery. by no means have either of those things become a non-issue in his life, but they have dissipated and significantly and well, when all else fails… there’s always throwing yourself into work or looking after someone else. he wrote a monograph, a social history of black africans in renaissance england that was eventually published just under five years ago now.

riding on the back of the book's success, a desire to return to academia and for a change of scenery he began applying for jobs. the offer from the university of denver came through and he took it and uprooted to denver. this was where his family’s relief was dampened; they thought it was a rash decision ( they weren’t wrong, but gabe was never one to change his mind once it was set and they knew it ) 

gabe has been in denver for three years now, comfortable in his position at the university but also keen to engage with as many people as possible. he runs a sort of 'history 101' evening class at the community college for anyone to attend.

wanted connections page ! gimme literally everything pls.

[gildcdglory]

APPLICATION.

*     ◟    :    〔   adria arjona  , demi woman    +   she/they    〕      juliana león,  some say you’re a thirty-two-year-old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being kind-hearted and naive, one can’t help but think of soft to be strong by MARINA when you walk by. are you still a medic at the executioners and a nurse at media + medical community, even with your reputation as the lamb? i think we’ll be seeing more of a tired smile after a long day’s work, the scent of floral perfume lingering in the air, and laugher brightening up an otherwise empty alleyway although we can’t help but think of ted lasso from ted lasso, snow white from snow white and mary margaret blanchard from once upon a time when we see you down these rainy streets.  (  alyx, 24, she/her, est)

FILE.

full name: juliana león

age: thirty-two

gender / pronouns: demi woman, she/they

orientation: pansexual

affiliation: medic for the executioners

occupation: nurse at the local hospital

family: julio león (father, deceased), luisa león (mother, deceased), antonia santos (cousin, alive)

faceclaim: adria arjona

inspiration: ted lasso (ted lasso), mary margaret blanchard (once upon a time), snow white (snow white)

Pinterest

BIOGRAPHY.

DEATH TW, GRIEF TW

Your childhood wasn't anything close to perfect, but it was everything you could've asked for. You grew up in a small town in the heart of Arkansas-- the kind of place where everyone knew each other and individuals rarely branched away from their humble life.

Your mother died shortly after giving birth to you, so it was always just you and your father against the world. Your father used to always try to get you to think beyond your small town, insisting that the world had more to offer you than just the same shops and families that often littered the town, but you always ignored his pleas. After all, why did you need the outside world, when the person you cared for the most was right in front of you?

After a while, he learned to accept your stubborn ways and stopped trying to push you away from home. Instead, you chose to attend classes at the local university and work to become a nurse for the town's clinic. You always had a desire to help others, and you saw this as an opportunity to make a difference in your small town. You knew it wasn't the most glamorous job, but you were never one to demand much-- just a friendly smile or light conversation was enough for you.

You somehow managed to graduate college and obtain a job at the clinic, but it wasn't long before you were forced to put that position on hold. Your father had been showing signs of exhaustion for months, but every time you asked about it, he insisted he was ok. It wasn't until it got worse that he finally admitted the truth he fought so hard to hide from you--- he was dying of heart failure.

The news broke you. This was your best friend, your family, and he hid his pain from you all this time. You began to question your career path, wondering if you were truly worthy of the title of 'healer' if you can't heal your own loved one. When he finally passed away in his sleep, those doubts began to creep in more, leaving you to shut yourself off from the world.

Months passed before you were finally able to pull yourself away from your grief. You knew your father wouldn't want you to spend your life in isolation, but every corner of the town reminded you of him. It wasn't until you found an old family photo that you realized what you needed to do. You needed to follow your father's advice and branch away from your small town, and your cousin would be the one to help you do that.

Although your family chose to remain in the small town you grew up in, your cousin's family moved away to NYC shortly after your cousin learned how to walk. You remembered the letter she wrote to you months ago, offering her place in a time of need, and decided to take her up on the offer. You never thought you'd be packing your life up and moving away from your small town, but when you boarded the flight to JFK, you knew there was no turning back.

The move to NYC was frightening, and the thought of being practically alone in a big city made you want to run back home. It wasn't until you stumbled upon an injured EXECUTIONER that you realized you might be where you belong. Healing the injured member not only brought back your love of healing but also allowed you to form a connection with the group. This chance encounter dragged you into the world of vigilantes, and though you may not understand the violence or brutality of the underworld, you know one thing: you'll be there to patch up everyone's wounds and bring a bit of light to the city's shadows.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Salvation: Gimme the executioner who brought Juliana into the fold. This person would've gotten injured during one of their missions and gotten patched up by Juliana. They would've realized her talent for healing and willingness to help an injured stranger and brought her to meet the rest of the team. Juliana would hold this person in high regard-- viewing them with a slight adoration since they helped give her purpose in this new world.

Manipulator: Juliana's fatal flaw is her trusting nature. She came from a small town where everyone helped everyone, so she isn't used to the shady and disingenuous nature of the underground. This person would've noticed that weakness and chose to exploit it for their personal gain. Maybe they're trying to bring down the Executioners or one of their members. Maybe they're trying to get her to do their dirty work for them. Whatever the reason, their relationship with her is nothing more than a means to an end.

Work friends: When Juliana's not helping out the executioners, she can be seen working at the local hospital. I would love some people who either work alongside Juliana or tend to visit her frequently due to injuries. Doesn't even have to be friends-- it could be grumpy coworkers or someone who knows they're going to get a look of disapproval the moment Juliana sees them. Anything involving the hospital works for me.

I’ll probably add more ideas later but honestly down for anything :)

[callofthxvoid]

Please welcome VALERIA "VAL" MORENO (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 24-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as a RANGER AT THE SOUTH STATION. Poor unfortunate soul. We’ll see if they survive.

quick facts

Title: The Hurricane

Name: Valeria Annabeth Moreno

Nickname: Val

Date of Birth: October 13, 1999

Age: 24

Place of Birth: Chicago, Illinois

Hometown: Chicago, Illinois

Languages: English, Spanish

Faceclaim: Maia Reficco

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Polyamorous Pansexual

Relationship Status: In an open relationship with Cain Barlowe

personality

Myers-Briggs: ISTP - The Virtuoso

Enneagram: Type Six - The Skeptic (6w5)

Moral Alignment: True Neutral

Occupation: Forest Ranger at South Watch Tower

Role: Hunter

[+] quick, independent, street smart, devoted [-] temperamental, insubordinate, withdrawn, resentful

Character Inspirations: April Ludgate (Parks and Recreation), Yang Xiao Long (RWBY), Maya Hart (Girl Meets World), Kate Bishop (Marvel)

background

TW: Parental Neglect, Abandonment, Alcoholism

Valeria has no real memories of her parents. Her biological father was never in the picture, and what she remembers of her mother is a woman who was far too flippant, flighty, and irresponsible to raise a child. As a result, she was often left with her uncle without warning, and ultimately ended up being raised by him once her mom left for good - which, all things considered, was probably the best choice for her. Sure, he drank a little too much, and he never talked about what he did for a living, but he cared for her well enough to provide her with a largely decent childhood.

Everything changed when the life he never talked about finally caught up to them.

One night, someone broke into their apartment and a fight ensued, ending with Val getting severely injured in the crossfire. As she recovered in the hospital, an agent and a federal prosecutor came to see her and told her everything; her uncle was a professional hitman, he had decided to testify against his employer, and in spite of her vocal protests, they were both being placed into witness protection for their own safety. To say that she was extremely unhappy about it would be an understatement. She didn't think it was fair that she had to uproot her life, assume a new identity and never see her friends or her girlfriend again when she hadn't even done anything wrong, and things only got worse when en route to their new home they ended up stuck in Huntsville along with the Marshals accompanying them.

Arriving halfway through her freshman year, Val spent her entire high school career keeping to herself out of sheer spite, as if settling in and making new friends would be a betrayal toward the life she left behind. She stopped caring about school, and started spending her days exploring the woods around town because at least there, she could have her solitude without anyone expecting her to engage in conversation. And even though she didn't want to blame him for what happened, the combination of her uncle's excessive drinking (which only got worse the longer they remained in Huntsville) and her bitter resentment inevitably led to a rift between her and the one reminder she still had of who she used to be, other than her own name.

It's been almost a decade, and it's only in the past year that Val has slowly started opening up and actually making real connections to other people. Her job as a ranger, which seemed like a natural fit after spending most of her teen years in the forest, is perhaps the most responsible for her coming out of her shell - it helps that many of her coworkers are, to put it nicely, also not good with people. But even as she settles into life in Huntsville, there is a part of her that's still waiting for this whole nightmare to end so that she can go back home and pick up where she left off - even if deep down, she knows that ship sailed a long time ago.

misc

She has a tremor in her right hand, but she's not sure if it's psychological or a physical result of the injuries she sustained. Either way, she has basically become ambidextrous as a result of having to use her left hand more.

Val loves singing and songwriting. She hasn't played much since her injury, but she still brought her guitar and ukulele to Huntsville just in case. She has gotten better at playing with her left, but she doesn't have the right instruments for it.

Before her injuries, Val was a promising track and field star at her old school. Her dream was to go to the Olympics. She chose not to continue when they moved to Huntsville.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Idris Elba

full name: Marquis Owusu

nickname(s) / goes by: Marcus 

pronouns & gender: he/him/his and cis man 

sexuality: heterosexual 

birth date: November 24, 1973 ( 50 years old )

birth place: Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France

arrival to merrock: 2011, twelve years ago. 

housing: the coast and pier

occupation: Owner and CEO of Le Marquis Business Consultancy and Investments Inc  

work place: 

family: deceased mother and father, deceased wife of eight years, one older siblings and two younger siblings, three children: Charlotte “Lottie” Rose, daughter born October 2017 and twins Finn Dion and Sienna Alexandra born August 2018

relationship status: Widower / Single

PERSONALITY

He’s got a face that people often takes him to be incredibly serious, and when it comes to work, he plays no games. Marquis can often seem cold and aloof, aside from when he is with close friends and family. There, another side of him comes out, a more charming and caring side of him comes out. He knows his fault is shutting people out after so much loss in his life but he tries his best to not come across as harsh or standoffish but it’s something he knows that his personality comes with a fault and is something he continually is working on to just not be the ‘business man’ that he often exudes when in public. 

WRITTEN BY: Bri (she/her), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: tw parental death, tw parental loss, tw death mention, tw spousal death, tw childbirth, tw death, tw infertility, tw early term pregnancy

Born to Omari Osuwu and Penelope Osuwu in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France life with the Osuwu’s was relatively normal. Well, as normal of a life could be for a household of six. Being the second born child came with less challenges, at least that was his mother always alleged. When she welcomed Marquis into the family she was expecting him to be the rebel son, the hot-headed tempered child, much like her pregnancy had been. Hot and cold the entire time, but from the moment he popped into the world he was the levelheaded peaceful child of the bustling bunch. 

Despite the challenges that came with his father always working, his mother made the best home for them. They didn’t go without, his father providing for the family financially while being the disciplinary in the household. For the most part he ruled with an iron fist, but that was just due to the fact he liked order. It was never too much of a power trip, or nothing his mother couldn’t manage to smooth over if she felt he was being too particularly difficult with any of the children. Still, as most people saw it, he was a man attempting to raise a family of four children and keep a happy wife. Sometimes that meant having things more strict and set at times than others. Still, if you asked him, there was no doubt that his mother was the shining star of their Owusu family. She made sure they got to live their best childhoods possible. There were trips to Paris, day or weekend long excursions to neighboring countries, and endless activities that pepper his memory. One thing his mother was determined o do was raise well-rounded, worldly children. For this, from the moment they were just starting school, each child was enrolled by their mother into multiple language lessons. 

By the time Marquis was thirteen he was fluent in French, English, Spanish, and German. Given both his parents were well-versed in multiple languages themselves, his father always appreciated the love and care that his wife put in to making sure the kids would have the best opportunities for their future, starting with being fluent in other languages and enrolling them in a top accredited school for their primary and secondary education. In his father’s eyes this would give them the best advantage when going out into the world when they became adults.

To Marquis, by any other standard, the Owusu’s lived a normal life with his family. When he turned seventeen he started interning with his father at the bank he worked at, and it was the first lightbulb that went off in his head that things made sense. He caught onto patterns faster than his father, started to build client relationships, and before he knew it he had caught the eye of the local bank president who decided to make him a personal project and take him under his wing as a mentee. With a new mentor leading him distance grew between his father and him. After finishing secondary school, and with glowing recommendations from his mentor he entered a business school in Paris. Part of him wasn’t expecting to excel as well as he did but each time he turned around he was catching the eyes of several professors — and the women on the campus. 

During his university years he was know as a bit of a lady’s man, wining and dining them, but never was in the mindset to settle down. If anything it was just the little bit of fun he needed while building towards whatever future career he was planning for himself. To him, a relationship wasn’t needed to him to be happy. To him his goals were always more career oriented, much like his father. Setting his eyes on someday being a president of a local bank in France, living a comfortable life, once all the things fell into place. It wasn’t until one of his professors approached him and told him he could do so much more with his skill set. That aiming for just working in a bank was well below what he could do. While back to interning with his father, he signed up for all different classes at his university that his new mentor suggested from accounting, investing, human resources, project management, and more. This was where he got the first taste of the world of investment. 

When he graduated university he accepted a position in an investment firm as an entry level advisor. At the beginning it was mostly just paperwork and mind-numbing dribble. There came a point he almost gave it up, starting to think this wasn’t the career path for him. But, stubborn like a bull, he stuck it through and started to gather his own clientele and a name for himself within the business. 

Over the next few years Marquis continually raised through the ranks learning every bit he could about proper investing in companies, start-up businesses, and people. In his mid twenties, his father suddenly passed due to cardiac arrest leaving his mother well off financially. Though no amount of money can prepare a person for losing the love of their life. While his father had never been overly affectionate, his mother always said he loved her beyond measure at all times of the day. Something Marquis didn’t fully understand since he had never felt a love that powerful. What could he comprehend? His mother passing away only six weeks later. Doctors said it was respiratory failure but Marquis knew his mother died of a broken heart and couldn’t continue to live without the love of her life. Once the estate was settled each sibling was left a considerable amount of financials from everything from trusts to properties, something Marquis hadn’t even been aware they had. 

For awhile he floated lost in the world, losing both parents so close together and both of them prior to him turning thirty years old. He attempted his hardest to be a sounding board for his younger siblings when needed while still attempting to try and figure out his own grief and life — mainly how to move forward after something that rocked his life upside down. Anger, sadness, and grief started to consume him little by little so he threw himself into his work, storing his portion of money he had inherited into investments while he continued to work. 

After being overlooked and several promotions came and went with someone with less experience were brought up over him, despite the massive clientele base he had brought into the business, he decided to reach out to the one person he felt like he still had for his own sounding board. His old mentor and father’s old boss, this is where the budding idea started of opening his own investment firm in France. He wanted a mix of business consultancy and investments. Little did he know how good he’d be at running his own business, investing others money into proper channels and consulting for others to build their own businesses taking a percentage of profit to help up and coming business. For the next decade Le Marquis Business Consultancy and Investments Inc opened two more brick and mortar businesses in France, one in London, one in New York City, one in Miami and one in Los Angeles. For Marquis this was all about building his empire, building his legacy, and taking a no holds barge approach. 

Some considered him ruthless with the way he came in and built a company of seven offices around the world, but he was building something for himself, and no one else. His siblings, however, bugged him about settling down but it truly never crossed his mind. With the amount of travel and meetings to keep the expanse of businesses he had running who had time to think about settling down. It wasn’t that he didn’t date, he just didn’t let it get any further than a few fun nights in bed before going their separate ways. It wasn’t until he was home one Christmas at thirty five years old did he meet the new next door neighbor to his eldest sibling. It was here he understood the meaning of what it was to meet your other half and feel like you were struck by lightening all at once. Eleanor was confident, had a tiny business making jewelry and his idea of sweet talking was offering to invest into her business. What truly shocked him was the blunt way she told him to kick rocks and move along. 

It was no immediate love story, though he was captured by her immediately, but mostly it started off as bickering but slowly developed into more. Marriage followed nearly two years later after dating and they started talking about him slowing down as Eleanor wanted children. With a promise of opening one last firm, what he would coin his ‘retirement’ firm where he’d work most exclusively out of, would be what lead him to Merrock where Eleanor’s parents were local from. After finding the perfect building for his business they spent the next several months settling into Merrock life. 

Going from massive cities, constant traveling, and endless business meetings to small town life wasn’t easy for Marquis at first. It left him restless but his wife was patient with him. It was at 38 years old did both Marquis and Eleanor start trying for a family of their own. With his wife at only 32 years old he didn’t think it would be as hard as it was, but one year turned into two and they were slapped with potential infertility issues. With the help of medication and lots of patience, at 44 years old Marquis and his wife welcomed their first born daughter into the world. 

They were supposed to be on cloud nine, and it wasn’t supposed to happen, but twelve weeks later they got the news that after one night of celebrating, Eleanor was 5 weeks pregnant, and to bigger surprise came then when they found out she was pregnant with twins. Being that his wife was nearly 39 years old now she was placed in high risk. Marquis took every precaution possible once he heard those words, money was no object and he sought out the best medical care to bring to Merrock. At only twenty eight weeks along Eleanor went into labor delivering two premature babies, a beautiful baby boy and baby girl. They were small and needed time to develop in the NICU but they were strong, however his wife wasn’t as lucky. Due to the high risk pregnancy she suffered two embolisms in her lungs and by the time they caught it, it was too late and she didn’t survive through the night. 

At nearly 45 years old Marquis was now not only a widow but caring for three babies, an almost one year old, and newborn infants. His siblings came to Merrock and with the help of Eleanor’s parents to help him settle in as best as he could. Five years later he still regrets waiting so long to start a family. Part of him blames himself that if he hadn’t been so stubborn and worried strictly about his business, if they had tried earlier, she wouldn’t be gone. Not to mention the regrets he has not being careful enough after she had given birth to their first daughter. It’s a blame he hasn’t let himself forgive himself for, and not sure he ever will. 

At the end of the day, business doesn’t stop for anyone when you are running a global company. To be close to his wife’s roots and her family he decided to stay in Merrock, though his family suggested him coming back to France. After hiring a nanny to hep with the kids in between, he has done everything he can to be as devoted of a father, attempting to give them anything and everything they could want. It means learning how to balance the business that he hopes to someday pass onto his children, and spending time with his little family. Though if you had told him in his twenties he’d never thought at fifty years old he’d be a widower raising his six year old daughter and five year old twins. But something he’s learned several times in life, life doesn’t always go as planned. 

[meowmeowmeow9]

24 september, 2024

it is late and i lay awake feeling restless, and sad, and strangely all nostalgic-like, so i've decided to write something because what else would a jane like myself do?

today has been different from other days. not majorly. i went about my usual day-schedule for a tuesday: arrive at school, attend class. turn in my chair and talk to my only friend in creative writing, and hope that he also thinks of me as his friend, and hope that he lingers to talk to me a bit after class ends, and watch him walk straight to the elevator not to. this is okay, i take the stairs. walk to my acting class in the locke building (my dreadful, terrible, drawn-out acting class that has no business being 2 hours and 20 minutes long). attend, stay afterward to spend time with my friends. text my mom, drive home, lay in bed. i don't think further explanation is necessary, i've rambled enough. you get the point.

and so i find myself today thinking more. this happens sometimes. it's not my favorite feeling, i wish there was a word for it. it feels tight, and heavy, but loose as well, as if i am clung to a cliff's edge by the pads of my fingers, weighing only feather-light on my own but hanging laden with sandbags by my ankles. if you were to hold your breath and clench your fists very very tightly while watching a leaf fall languid against softly cast sunlight, maybe that would replicate it.

there are moments in which it is almost too much. when the warmth of an anxious flush becomes scorching, and i worry that if i look down at myself i'll be bright red and peeling; when it starts to feel like thorns, blistered and piercing, are lacing themselves along me as if probing for a soft grip of vulnerable flesh. or maybe blooming from the inside out, curling long, clawed fingers at the lining of my heart-space, and after failing to make scraps of it, instead closing itself in a collapse that sends shocks and waves and a terrible caterwaul through taut and torn summer breathing. and god it's like swallowing a thick pill, one that stops on its way down determined against being flushed out with water.

i'm not making any sense. in short: feeling bad.

i have a habit of thinking that if i can find some pretty words to put to my suffering, that it will become interesting. i've quickly learned that "interesting" actually means "worthwhile." i've been out of pretty words for months, and there is nothing interesting about suffering. when you suffer, it is just that. it is not beautiful. it is not romantic. it is suffering. no, i've run out of pretty words. i have regular words. regular words will suffice. and with regular words i'll ask that you imagine me looking you in the eye, sighing between some sentences, and wrinkling my nose a bit awkwardly as i continue.

i took my last breath a year ago in april. spring has always been thick and furtive. think a shrill violin, untuned, beneath the grip of an inexperienced player. that is the so-called "charm" of spring and i have never understood others' favor for its ugly face. i'm distracting myself: april. i was in england, the ephemeral distance of being in a world separate from my own distinctly more apparent with every moment that passed me by. i know that i am still there: on the jubilee line, changing for waterloo and city lines, and national rail services. doors open on the right. this train terminates at stanmore. the train screeches as it takes away. "screech" isn't an exact word. it bellows like a bloated and angry bear. or mother. i am swaying at the movement, watching the lights gutter out over the backsides of blue carpeted seats, and where there are usually people, there is empty space. for a while i let myself believe i was the only person in the car, but that was unrealistic. the point is, that is where i was last seen. i have not moved from that spot since.

i have yet to truly comprehend the tragedy that is my own death. i know as well as anybody that death does nothing but entail birth, which i have accepted--but i understand better now what purgatory is meant to be. purgatory is the train car i cried on at 11:13pm in london, UK, a hard copy of the fifth science in my lap as i stared at my reflection in the dark glass window. purgatory is the shaftesbury bedroom with its back turned to the sun, hunched with arms wrapped over its trinkets, rings and dice and miscellaneous items that it knew i would snatch up for my own keeping. it is the moment in death in which you realize you've stopped breathing, and cannot if you try -- but have no need for it either. does that make sense? purgatory is a land far far away in which a large part of myself lingers, and shall remain.

maybe i do not understand purgatory. the irony of this is the paperback of dante's inferno that i had been gifted by the shaftesbury bedroom, but have not yet read all the way through. maybe i would understand it if i did. i'm getting ahead of myself.

i have felt for over a year that i am in some strange dream. as a child plagued with nightmares, i am capable of waking myself. this is no dream, presumably, this is the real thing. but something that i talk about often, to be fair possibly too much (my apologies if you've fallen victim to my rambling of this), is that i am a wonderer. i have always been, and still am, a wonderer. wondering to me comes easier than blinking and faster than waking. and so, i wonder: why this dream? this dream is no hell. it is no euphoria. i am regular. i go to regular school in a regular car, with regular classes and regular classmates. i know the answer, and it's "regular" that gives it away. this dream is brimmed with beauty, that one must look for. it will not be handed to you -- nothing will be handed to you. it is a plane of wanting and chasing, as the body sways so does desire, and as time balks at easing so does the human condition.

i have refused to pull the leash that life has held the end of, and so i have seen with my own eyes the stagnancy that instills, and i have despised it passionately.

friend, if ever life swings at you, do not submit. i implore you to turn the other cheek. should she swing again, extend your hand. if life is so bold as to land blow upon blow on you, there only one thing to do: smile. this pain is not pointless. life is a fickle fox and will take from you your brass when she is ready to offer gold. she will balter as you cry because she knows your tears will bleed into benefit: she knows you watch her. people only cast their gaze on the fox when she takes from them, and they watch her plainly. study her. life is no enemy. life is no friend. life is your counterpart, and what she wants is simple: to play. the fox favors defiance. raise your fist and life will laugh.

in simple words: to live contently is to accept the give and take. expect nothing. appreciate everything. and enjoy.