#to the point my own mother stood in his living room after picking me up from having spent two nights at his house

[gothkurusu]

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[florawrites-blog]

Mother.....- enhypen

-When the calm girlfriend finally snaps

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The evening had started like any other, with you calmly going about your routine, trying to unwind after a long day. But as you walked into the living room, the sight of the mess Heeseung had left behind—after you'd asked him countless times to clean it up—stopped you in your tracks.

The clutter was everywhere: dishes piled up on the coffee table, clothes strewn across the couch, and random items scattered on the floor. You could feel the familiar tightening in your chest, the overstimulation building up like a pressure cooker. You had always been calm, collected, the one who kept things together, but tonight, it was too much.

“Heeseung!” you called out, your voice strained as you tried to keep it together. He emerged from the bedroom, his usual carefree smile on his face, oblivious to the storm brewing in you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, glancing around the room without a second thought.

That was the breaking point. All the frustration, the countless times you’d asked him to clean up, the overwhelming mess—it all came crashing down at once.

“Why is this still here?” you snapped, your voice sharp and louder than you intended. “I’ve asked you so many times to clean this up, and it’s like you don’t even care! Do you know how exhausting it is to come home to this every single day? I can’t handle this anymore!”

Heeseung stood frozen in place, eyes wide with shock. He had never seen you like this—never heard your voice raised in anger. You could see the fear and surprise in his expression, and it only made the guilt begin to creep in, but you couldn’t stop now. The words just kept pouring out.

“I try so hard to keep this place together, to make it comfortable for both of us, and you can’t even pick up after yourself? I’m so tired of having to clean up your messes, and you just…you just ignore it like it doesn’t matter!” You could feel your hands shaking, the overstimulation making everything feel too loud, too much.

Heeseung’s face softened, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took a hesitant step toward you. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize it was bothering you this much,” he said quietly, his voice laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to calm the storm inside you. The sight of him standing there, looking so vulnerable and unsure, made the anger ebb away, leaving behind only exhaustion and regret.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just…I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

Heeseung quickly closed the distance between you, gently wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ve been careless, and I should’ve listened when you asked. I never wanted to make you feel like this.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body as his warmth surrounded you. “I just need you to help me, okay?” you said softly, your voice still trembling slightly. “I can’t do everything on my own.”

He nodded against you, his hold on you tightening. “I promise, I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel this way again.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, holding each other in the middle of the mess, the anger and frustration giving way to a quiet understanding. You knew that things wouldn’t be perfect, but at least now, he understood how much it meant to you. And that was a start.

Park jongseong - 박종성

You had always been known as the quiet one, the one who handled things with grace, never letting anything ruffle your feathers. Even Jay, who knew you better than anyone, had never seen you truly lose your temper. But today was different.

You were out with some of your high school friends, a group that had always been a little too opinionated for your taste. Jay had tagged along, more than happy to spend time with you, even if it meant being around people he didn’t know too well. The day had started off fine, but as the conversation progressed, it took a turn that you could feel brewing for a while.

One of the girls, who had always had a knack for saying the wrong things, began bringing up some old, unnecessary information about your close friend Nudsie. They were poking fun at things that were clearly uncomfortable for her, laughing at memories that should have stayed buried. Nudsie, ever the good sport, laughed along with them, but you could see the strain in her eyes, the way she was forcing herself to stay composed.

Something snapped inside you.

You could feel the anger bubbling up, a rare and unfamiliar sensation for you. Normally, you would let things slide, brush off the comments, but not today. Today, you weren’t going to let them get away with it.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” you interrupted, your voice calm but carrying an edge that made the group go silent. The girls turned to you, surprised by the sudden shift in your tone. “Because it’s really starting to seem like you don’t.”

They blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in your words. You didn’t raise your voice, didn’t cause a scene, but the intensity behind your calm demeanor was enough to make them freeze in place.

“Nudsie has been nothing but kind to all of you, and this is how you repay her? By dragging up things that should’ve been left in the past? You might think it’s funny, but it’s not. It’s hurtful, and frankly, it’s immature. If you’re so bored with your own lives that you have to dig up others’ pasts to entertain yourselves, then maybe you should focus on improving yourselves instead.”

You could see the discomfort in their faces, the way they shifted in their seats, unable to meet your gaze. The silence that followed was deafening. They had no comeback, no defense—just awkward, guilty expressions.

Jay, who had been watching the whole exchange, was surprised but also impressed. He had never seen you like this, and as much as it caught him off guard, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. He hid a smirk behind his hand, knowing this wasn’t the time to show his amusement.

The girls mumbled weak apologies, clearly too shaken to continue with their usual banter. They avoided eye contact with you, their earlier bravado completely gone.

You took a deep breath, the anger slowly ebbing away as you turned your attention back to Nudsie, who looked both relieved and touched by your defense. “Are you okay?” you asked her softly, your tone completely different from the one you had just used.

She nodded, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.”

You nodded back, feeling the tension in your shoulders finally ease. As you turned to Jay, you found him watching you with a mixture of admiration and pride, his eyes shining with affection.

He leaned in closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased, his lips curling into a smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn’t help but smile back. “It takes a lot to get me there,” you replied, your voice softening. “But some things are worth standing up for.”

Jay reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered, his tone sincere.

You squeezed his hand back, feeling a sense of calm return. The moment had passed, and you were back to being your composed self, but now Jay had seen a side of you he never knew existed—a side that made him admire you even more.

Sim jaeyun -심재윤

You had a long day, running errands that seemed to drag on forever. All you wanted was to come home, relax, and get ready for the evening. You had asked Jake to do one simple thing—just one—so you wouldn’t have to worry about it when you got back: the laundry. He had agreed, of course, always the obedient and loving boyfriend, eager to help out.

But when you opened the door to the laundry room, your jaw dropped.

The entire room was filled with foam, spilling out of the washing machine and spreading across the floor. The machine itself was making a strange, gurgling noise, clearly on the brink of breaking down entirely. And in the middle of it all stood Jake, staring at the chaos with wide, dumbfounded eyes.

You just stood there for a moment, taking in the disaster before you. Your patience, which had already been worn thin by the frustrating errands you had to deal with, finally snapped. The clothes you needed to wear tonight were now soaking in a sea of foam, and the laundry room looked like a scene out of a sitcom gone horribly wrong.

“Jake!” you snapped, your voice louder than you intended, startling him out of his daze. “Be so fucking for real—what the fuck happened here?!”

Jake blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to explain. “I—I don’t know, I just… I followed the instructions and—”

But before he could finish, you cut him off, the anger bubbling up and spilling over. “I better get a good explanation because this is insane! I’ve had the worst day, and now I come home to this?!”

Jake looked like a deer caught in headlights, clearly shocked by your outburst. He’d never seen you lose your temper like this. You were always so calm, so collected, but this—this was a side of you he didn’t know existed.

And it scared him.

In a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation, Jake immediately dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’m sorry, mother—I mean, Y/N—I don’t even have an explanation,” he stuttered, his voice trembling slightly. “I—I must have done something wrong, I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad!”

The sight of him on his knees, so panicked and remorseful, broke through your anger just enough to make you realize how ridiculous this whole situation was. The absurdity of it all—the foam-filled room, Jake’s panicked apology—was almost too much. You felt the last bit of your rage dissipate, leaving you standing there, half-exasperated, half-amused.

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair as you looked at him, still on his knees, clearly terrified of your reaction. “Jake, get up,” you said, your voice softening as you tried to reign in your temper. “I’m not going to kill you.”

He hesitated, glancing up at you cautiously. “Are you… are you sure?” he asked, his voice small.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. The situation was so absurd, so unlike anything you’d ever imagined dealing with, that all you could do was laugh. “Yes, Jake, I’m sure. I’m mad, but I’m not going to kill you.”

Relieved, Jake slowly got to his feet, still looking a bit sheepish. “I’m really sorry,” he said again, his tone sincere. “I have no idea what went wrong. I must have used too much detergent or something.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite everything. “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious,” you replied, glancing at the foamy disaster still covering the room. “But we’ll figure it out. Just… maybe let’s avoid you doing laundry for a while, okay?”

Jake nodded quickly, his usual confidence completely replaced by a mixture of guilt and relief. “Absolutely. Never touching the washing machine again,” he promised, a nervous laugh escaping him.

You sighed again, but this time, it was more out of exhaustion than anger. “Alright, let’s clean this up before it gets any worse,” you said, rolling up your sleeves and preparing to tackle the mess.

Jake immediately jumped to help, still eager to make up for his mistake. As you both worked to clean up the foam, he couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then, still amazed by what he had just witnessed.

You caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He shook his head, a smirk finally breaking through his guilt. “Nothing, just… you’re kind of scary when you’re mad, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, let’s hope you don’t see that side of me too often.”

Jake grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Deal.”

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

You and Sunghoon were on the couch, attempting to have a relaxing evening together. He had the soccer match on, and you could tell he was fully invested. But as the game went on, he started to get a little too invested. Every time his team missed a shot or the opposing team got too close to scoring, he’d smack your thigh—hard.

At first, you brushed it off. It was just his way of expressing his excitement, and you were used to his quirks. After all, you had your own—like when you would bite his biceps out of nowhere just to see his reaction. But as the minutes ticked by and the smacks got stronger, it started to wear on you.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled, shifting away slightly. But he was feeling uncharacteristically clingy tonight, and no matter where you moved, he followed, his focus still on the game.

Another smack landed on your thigh, this one even harder than before. You winced, feeling the sting. It was starting to feel less like playful taps and more like someone had whacked you with a heated building block. You tried to stay calm, but the next hit pushed you over the edge.

“Sunghoon, I swear to god,” you snapped, your voice laced with irritation, “if you lay your fingers on me one more goddamn time, I will take every single one of your fingers, cut them off with a smile on my face, cook them, then serve them to you on a plate and feed them to you.”

Sunghoon froze, his hand halfway in the air, eyes wide in shock. He turned to look at you, completely speechless, his mouth slightly agape as he processed what you’d just said. He knew you could get feisty, but this was on another level. The intensity in your eyes made it clear that you were dead serious, and he quickly realized he had crossed a line.

For a moment, the room was silent, the sound of the game still playing in the background, but neither of you paid attention to it anymore. Sunghoon slowly lowered his hand, his pride and confidence suddenly shrinking under your fiery gaze.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You sighed, the anger slowly dissipating as you saw the look of remorse on his face. “Just… be more careful, okay? I know you get into the game, but I’m not a punching bag.”

Sunghoon nodded quickly, scooting closer to you again, but this time with more care. “I promise, no more smacking,” he said, trying to make up for it by wrapping an arm around your shoulder gently, as if you were a fragile piece of glass.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his sudden change in demeanor. “You better keep that promise, or you’re going to have to figure out how to play soccer without fingers.”

He chuckled nervously, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple. “Deal,” he whispered, pulling you closer as he turned his attention back to the game, but this time making sure to keep his hands far away from your thighs.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You had always admired Sunoo’s dedication to his career, his meticulous attention to every detail of his life, especially when it came to his health and appearance. But lately, his obsession with this new diet had been pushing you to the edge. He was cutting back on meals, skipping out on food that he usually enjoyed, and it was driving you crazy. You respected his choices, but this was too much.

Today, however, you’d had enough. You found him in the kitchen, making yet another bland, low-calorie meal, and something inside you snapped.

“Sunoo, we need to talk,” you said, your voice tense as you walked up to him.

He looked up, surprised by the tone in your voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting down the plate he was holding.

“What’s wrong?” you echoed, your voice rising in frustration. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been on this ridiculous diet for weeks now, and it’s not healthy! You’re not eating enough, and it’s driving me insane! I can’t stand to see you do this to yourself anymore, Sunoo!”

Sunoo blinked, caught off guard by your sudden outburst. He’d never seen you this upset before, not with him. He knew you were worried, but he hadn’t realized just how much it was affecting you.

“But I’m just trying to—” he started to explain, but you cut him off, your anger bubbling over.

“No! No more excuses!” you said, your voice firm as you stood in front of him, your eyes filled with a mix of anger and concern. “This diet is not okay, Sunoo. You’re hurting yourself, and it’s breaking my heart to watch you do this. I care about you too much to let you keep going like this.”

Sunoo’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the floor, his usual bright energy nowhere to be seen. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he realized how much his actions had been affecting you. He’d been so focused on his own goals that he hadn’t considered how his behavior was impacting the people who cared about him—especially you.

He didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there, pouting slightly, his gaze fixed on the ground. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but your heart was still pounding in your chest. “Sunoo, I love you,” you said, your voice softer now. “But this has to stop. You’re perfect the way you are, and you don’t need to do this to yourself. Please, promise me you’ll stop this diet.”

Sunoo looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and remorse. He knew you were right, and he hated seeing you this upset. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Then promise me,” you insisted, your tone gentle but firm. “Promise me you’ll stop.”

Sunoo nodded slowly, the weight of his promise settling heavily on his shoulders. “I promise,” he said quietly, finally meeting your gaze. “I’ll stop.”

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered against his shoulder. “I just want you to be healthy and happy.”

Sunoo hugged you back, holding you close. “I will be,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. He knew he had a lot to work on, but with you by his side, he knew he could do it.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

You loved Jungwon more than anything. He was kind, thoughtful, and always knew how to make you smile. But there was one thing that drove you absolutely insane—his obsession with mukbang videos. It wasn’t just a casual interest; he would play them at any given moment, whether you were eating, cuddling, or just trying to relax. Normally, you’d let it slide because, well, it made him happy. But tonight was different. You were PMSing, already feeling irritable and craving a bit of comfort, but instead of the soothing presence of your boyfriend, you were greeted with the obnoxious sound of someone slurping noodles on full blast.

As you entered the living room, there he was—your big dork of a boyfriend, sitting in front of the TV with a plate of food in front of him, grinning ear to ear as the mukbang video played. The sound of exaggerated chewing and slurping filled the room, making your skin crawl. You tried to push through it, telling yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, but the longer it went on, the more unbearable it became. The misophonia you suffered from flared up, and every sound felt like a personal attack on your sanity.

“Jungwon,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation was evident.

He didn’t seem to notice your tone, too engrossed in the video. “Yeah?” he replied, not even turning to look at you, his eyes glued to the screen.

That was it. The last straw. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Jungwon, I swear to God, if you don’t stop that stupid video right now, I might as well unplug the TV, kick you out, and throw the TV out with you!”

Jungwon’s eyes widened in shock as he finally turned to face you, his expression dumbfounded. He’d never heard you this angry before, especially not over something as seemingly harmless as a video. But seeing the genuine frustration in your eyes, he immediately realized how serious you were.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, quickly grabbing the remote and pausing the video. The room fell into blessed silence, and he looked at you with wide, apologetic eyes. “I didn’t know it was bothering you that much.”

You let out a long breath, the tension in your shoulders slowly easing now that the noise was gone. “It’s just… I can’t deal with it right now, especially tonight. I need a little sympathy, not more noise.”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and he immediately moved to sit beside you on the couch. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, gently pulling you into his arms. “Here, you can have my food. I’ll turn off the TV, and we can just relax together.”

You looked up at him, your irritation fading as you saw the concern in his eyes. He really hadn’t meant any harm, and now that you’d gotten your frustration out, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for snapping at him. But Jungwon wasn’t upset; if anything, he looked relieved that he could make it right.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, accepting his offer and taking a bite of his food. It tasted even better knowing he cared enough to listen to you.

Jungwon smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Anything for you,” he said, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. And with that, he settled beside you, the two of you finding comfort in each other’s presence, with no mukbang videos in sight.

Ni- ki -남편

You and Ni-ki had just returned home from what felt like the longest, most exhausting day ever. Every part of your body ached, and all you wanted to do was collapse into bed and drift off to sleep. Ni-ki, however, had other plans. Despite having gone through the same grueling day as you, he seemed completely unfazed as he immediately made a beeline for his PlayStation. It was his go-to stress relief, and as much as you loved him, you couldn’t understand how he had the energy to play after a day like this.

You tried to ignore it, convincing yourself that you could sleep through the sounds of his game. But as soon as you started drifting off, the loud, agitating sound of the PlayStation starting up filled the room, followed by the unmistakable noise of gunfire and explosions. You groaned, turning over in bed and pulling the blanket over your head.

But then came the worst part—Ni-ki’s screams. Each time he lost, he let out these deep, guttural growls that seemed to shake the room. His voice, usually comforting, was now the most irritating sound in the world. You pressed a pillow over your head, trying to block out the noise, but it was no use. The sounds seeped through, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Niki, scream one more time. I dare you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow but still laced with irritation.

He thought you were joking, so he let out another loud yell when he lost the next round. That was it. You sat up, grabbed the nearest pillow, and threw it directly at his head. It hit him squarely, and he turned around, eyes wide in surprise, as he pulled off his headset.

“If I even hear you breathe right now, Ni-ki,” you snapped, your voice low and deadly serious, “I will dig my hands so deep in your throat and snatch your voice box out. Let’s see how you’ll be able to scream again at 3 a.m. in the morning. Ni-ki, don’t test me.”

Ni-ki’s eyes widened even more, and for a moment, he was completely speechless. He’d never seen you this upset before, and it shocked him to his core. He quickly realized you were not in the mood for jokes or more noise.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” he mumbled, quickly turning off the PlayStation and sitting down quietly beside you, looking at you like a scolded puppy.

You let out a heavy sigh, the anger slowly ebbing away now that the room was finally quiet. “Thank you,” you muttered, lying back down and pulling the covers over yourself again.

Ni-ki slid under the covers beside you, cautiously wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

You softened at his words, and though you were still a bit frustrated, you appreciated his apology. “Just… no more games this late, okay? I really need to sleep.”

“I promise,” he repeated, holding you close as you finally started to relax. The two of you drifted off to sleep, with no more interruptions, and the only sound left in the room was the quiet, steady rhythm of Ni-ki’s breathing as he cuddled up to you.

[sukunas-wife]

First, I adore your writing! It warms my soul 🫶🏽♥️

Second, I was wondering if you could do Sukuna x Reader w/ little Yuji asking his dad to help him make a gift for Y/N for Mother’s Day. I think it would be such a cute bonding time between them 💝

Please and thank you if you choose this 🤍

Tysm 🥹 it keeps me warm at night, So does my Sukuna plushie when I don’t knock him off the bed by accident 😭 but Yes! 🥺 I know Valentines isn’t close or far but 😫 The things I’d do for him and Yuji (as a son) on Valentine’s Day 😭😭 I wanna spoil both of them with love🥹 and maybe give Sukuna another kid 🤭

But I hope you like it Little Anon 🤍

“DDAAADDDD” Yuji came running into the living room crying running with a pair of plastic scissors almost impaling his dad. “What is brat?” Sukuna didn’t look too interested, laid back on the sofa, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

“My scissors won’t cut!” He made snipping motions on the paper he was using and sukuna barely opened an eye to watch. Yuji’s already teary eyes watered up as she trembled and sniffled. Sukuna closed his eyes, “Then fold it and tear it, you don’t need scissors to cut paper.”

There Yuji stood, laying the paper on his dads stomach. Sukuna opened his eyes watching how he was crinkling it while he tried to fold it. Failing and failing until he got it right, and tearing it apart slowly, “I did it!” Sukuna had a small smile, bringing a hand to ruffled Yuji’s hair “After half an hour.” Yuji pouted, “I gotta go!” He ran to his room again and sukuna was left with his hand flopping down dragging on the floor. “Hey!” He yelled after Yuji, Yuji popped his head out the door, “yeah?” “STOP RUNNING WITH THOSE DAMN SCISSORS!” “….Okay daddy!”

Sukuna closed his eyes leaning back, he could hear the tearing of paper before he started to nap. Then there was a really loud tear and he choked hearing Yuji’s small voice “damn it!”

“Pssst… psss… pss daddy.” He tried to swat away whatever was touching his face “ddadddyyyy are you awake?….. daddy?”

“What is it now Yuji?” Sukuna didn’t open his eyes. “I needa go…” “Yu.. you have the short toilet you can go if you need to..” “noooo daddy I need to go to the store!” Sukuna sat him with a huff, “alright let’s go. Go get dressed- are we taking the bike?” Yuji's eyes had stars while he looked up at his dad. “Yeah, we’re taking the bike cmon, get ready.” Yuji ran off to his room where Sukuna heard all the sounds of Yuji ripping open the clothes drawers. Grabbing his own jacket he got ready to go out into the cold.

—————-

“Alright what are we looking for…” Sukuna received silence, “Yuji?” He snapped around and there was no Yuji. “Ah shit.”

There went Sukuna trying to speed walk around trying to find his son who he literally brought into the store a minute ago. Finally he found him, in the seasonal section stretching on his tippy toes to get a white tiger plushie that held a white and silver box with a costume glass pearl necklace and earrings. “…what are you doing…?” “Wan it for mommy.” He gave up looking down and pointing at the plushie. Sukuna sighed, “Why do you want it for mom brat it’s not her birthday.” “Because it’s white day daddy! I have to get something for mommy!” He threw his hands up like it was the most obvious thing, unbeknownst to him the entire world was coming crashing down on his dad at that moment.

“I..it’s what?” “White day Daddy! Now hurry, I need that bear!” He went back to jumping and trying to grab it before Sukuna grabbed it shoving it under his arm, and picking up Yuji stuffing him under his other arm, “We gotta hurry-“ Yuji bounced around under Sukuna’s arm while he ande his way to the register, “wait!” Sukuna came to a stop “what?!” “Can I get candy?” Yuji pointed at the candy aisle and Sukuna turned his side to the aisle so Yuji could get what he wanted, “okay… WAIT NO” he grabbed a second candy, “I’m ready.” Sukuna let out heh noise before rushing back to the register, “I gotta pick something up at the shops so we gotta be fast hold on.”

————-

Yuji was standing on a chair at the kitchen table looking at the white Box his dad picked up. “What’s inside?” Sukuna who was focusing on spilling the glitter Yuji wanted on his card was holding his breath to not blow everywhere. Finally he sat up taking a breath, “a gift for your mom, cmon, you wanted to put your hand on this card right?”

“Mhmm!” Yuji hummed running around the table to his dads side barely peeking over the edge, “got the paint?” … “mm…no, gotta find it” Yuji trailed after his dad on the way to his room where they started looking in the closet, in the toy box, under the bed. “Where’s y/n put everything???” Sukuna was knelt face pressed against the floor flashing under Yuji’s bed with his phone’s flash light.

“Oh oh! Top shelf! Mommy doesn’t let me touch the top shelf.” He watched his push a chair over the book shelf and jump in the chair grabbing a thin box, “I touch it anyways.” He smiled proudly and Sukuna just smirked “Oh you little devil mommy would be so disappointed to know her precious little boy plays with the paint when she’s not home.”

Yuji threw the box up, “Please don’t tell mommy! I’ll never do it again!” Sukuna laughed when Yuji started to tear up, “Don’t worry, as long as you don’t tell mommy we ran that red light earlier, grab em and let’s go.” Yuji nodded like he was on a mission, “Kay.”

——

“Daddy you put your hand on first,” Sukuna sighed but pressed his hand into the Paper Yuji worked so hard to cut earlier. “Now let me see your hand Yu, gonna ink you up.”

Yuji laughed uncontrollably at the feeling of the brush on his fingers and palm which lead to Sukuna tickling him. Yuji was laughing until he turned red and started wheezing. Sukuna tried to brush Yuji’s hair back until he smudged him with paint. He cleared his throat to not laugh at Yuji, when he finally sat up catching his breath.. “My hands dry.”

Sukuna snickered, “alright, do it this time.” He carefully painted Yuji’s hand, guiding him to make the print right in the middle of Sukuna’s hand print. “Done!”

He turned to his dad in his lap and placed his hands on his cheeks squishing his face, “Thank you daddy, i love you.” Yuji was smiling, Sukuna smiled and nuzzled his nose against Yuji’s before pressing his lips to the top of his head making a dramatic muah sound making Yuji go “eewww” while laughing. Sukuna laughed while Yuji stared at his face, “I wanna look like daddy.” Which led to the two spending the next hour painting Yuji’s face to have the same inked lines his daddy did. 🥹

———

When you came home you found Sukuna and Yuji in the kitchen. Sukuna was telling Yuji about his “top secret” frying technique and Yuji was standing on a chair looking at the stove watching every move not wanting to miss anything. “mhm mhm” he had no idea what was going on while his dad was talking. You took their picture before Yuji finally turned around “Mommy!” He got so happy slowly sliding off the seat to run over to you, “Happy White day! We got you something!”

“Aww baby you didn’t have too.” Picking him up and kissing him all over he squealed in delight. Setting him down you walked over to Sukuna, he turned to kiss you when he felt you moving in to kiss his cheek. He had that smug smile when you smiled wrinkling your nose at him.

“Look, we made the bag too.” You watched Yuji’s little chubby legs and hands pop around the bag his face hidden behind the wrinkled tissue paper, “Aww its so pretty.” You took the bag from him, it was a white party bag in Yuji’s hand writing with gold marker “we lov you momy.” Covering your smile with your hand you looked at Yuji, “Did it all by myself.” Sukuna tsked “Sure ya did brat, went to the store too and used your whole five dollars too, hm?”

Yuji stuck his tongue out at his dad, “You didn’t give em back so I did pay!” You shook your head smiling when you opened the box, pulling out a white paper card, Sukuna moved closer resting his chin on your shoulder and Yuji pushed up a chair. The was Yuji’s handwriting “We lov you momy” and a wobbly drawn heart. Under it he wrote his name and Sukuna signed his name with a little note “I Love you more ;).” When you opened it it was so cute that you knew Yuji had to have forced Sukuna to do it. Sukuna’s hands were painted red in the shape of a heart, inside were yuji little hands painted white to make a smaller heart.

There was the note in Sukuna’s Handwriting, “These are my hands and with them I will take yours to have and to hold, to love and cherish till death do us part.”

Then there was Yuji’s cute little note, “I know you wipe some away, but these prints were made to stay, So keep them forever, a treasure they'll be, A special I LOVE YOU for you from me.”

The rest of the card was decorated in gold and silver glitters dots and squiggles. Little hand drawn hearts from Sukuna and Yuji. Most of the glitter ended up on the white tiger plushie Yuji ended up taking to sleep with that night 🥹😭

Later that night when Ryo and You were in the room getting ready to sleep when he spoke up. “Sorry we didn’t take you out anywhere fancy. Kinda lost track of time with everything going on…” he paused and you just turned to look at him, “It’s not an excuse but I did get you this.”

You walked over standing between his legs taking the white box from him. He hugged your waist pressing his face against your tummy, you rested your elbows on his shoulders and he heard your small laugh. “I think this was more for you then it was for me.”

You dropped the box next to him holding up the lingerie set. It was white satin with gold hip and shoulder straps covered in crystals. The back of the panties had been customised to say “Ryomen”, all topped off with one of those dramatic lacey robes with even more dramatic feathery cuffs and edges.

He smiled up at you from your tummy with lidded eyes, “maybe…” he kissed your tummy before squeezing your sides. You out a hand on his head brushing his hair back, he had that smug smile that gave you Yuji a few years ago, “So what do you say we really make this a white day?”

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

[pearl-nouveau]

A Woman's Purpose - Cregan Stark x Reader [chapter two]

summary: After your grandsire's death, you fly to Winterfell with Jacaerys and find yourself nervous to treat with Cregan years after your heated moment together.

warnings: none i think

a/n: short chapter, just felt like a good stopping point. anyone want part three,,,?🤗

The actions of Alicent and her eldest son did not shock me, but they deeply wounded a sense of hope that I hadn't realized was still deep within my soul. I would always remember Cregan praising my kind heart, but sometimes it felt like a curse. I had believed at my core that our family could find it within themselves to forgive, to come together, to support my grandsire's wishes and put a woman on the Iron Throne... I had believed that Alicent had a spine, that Aemond had humility, that Aegon had a heart. And Heleana, my poor, dear aunt whom I considered a close friend - it pained me to think of her caught in the center of such a mess. I longed to see her and I longed to see my mother on her throne. 

I thought back to the dinner we had before leaving for Dragonstone again. We had been merry, since Jaecerys and Lucerys were newly engaged. I was happy for Jace especially since we had talked so often of hoping for happy marriages, and Baela was a wonderful girl who he already adored. It pleased me that there was a possibility for love between the two of them. 

Aegon had drunkenly wandered to my seat and leaned towards my ear. 

"Poor niece... Your only purpose to be married off and still yet to be engaged. You'll be running out of options soon." 

His amusement sickened me and I continued to pick at my food, trying to ignore him, but he continued. 

"If you don't pick you'll end up with some elderly lord with a thumb for a pecker. Best swallow your pride and pick someone to claim you. Can't be your own woman forever, girl." His breath reeked of alcohol. 

Jacaerys had noticed his advances and stood to intervene, only for Aegon to direct his attention towards Baela, which began a whole other mess leading to the night quickly unraveling. 

It had made you think about marriage, not only as a duty, but as a tool. It had always been an important fixture in politics, but after everything that has happened with the throne, I knew that it would be even more urgent for me to take a husband. I lay in my bed at Dragonstone, resting my eyes, considering the current predicament of betrothal.

When it came down to it, there was no one I wanted to imagine myself marrying except for the Northern man who had captured my heart so many years ago. I feared, however, that it was too late. I had already refused him, in a way, one time. In addition, I had humiliated myself with his advances and then fled. He very well may hate me; find me to be a tease, a whore. I shuddered to think about it. 

At that moment, Jacaerys barged into my room. 

"Sister," breathlessly he addressed me, "mother has requested us to go to Winterfell and treat with Cregan Stark." 

There was a hint of a smile on his face, although we both knew the task was serious. I had no immediate response to him, so he elaborated.

"I suggested that you come. I believe you should see him. Besides, it is the perfect excuse to go."

I turned away, suddenly emotional. I wiped at my face. "Perhaps he has already taken a new wife," I shook my head. "We only need one representative of the crown."

"You're coming," He said finally. I realized it was no longer a request, but an order.

"Does mother know?"

He shook his head. "This is for you to figure out. No interferences." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Except for mine, right now. I would hope that if we are to enter the Hell of war we can find at least some happiness within the chaos."

His words made me want to weep, realizing how much he has grown and how much more he will have to in the coming years. How much all my siblings would grow. I feared for the lives of my loved ones. Instinctively, I reached for my brother and pulled him to me. He hugged me back tightly. 

"It'll all be okay, little dragon," his old nickname for me made me chuckle into his shoulder, "tomorrow, we ride for Winterfell."

That night, I dreamt of Cregan. Brief, hazy glimpses of moments we shared in the past. Moments that made me fall in love with him. 

I saw him poised in front of Vermithor, no fear in those stormy eyes, his hand outstretched to stroke my beautiful dragon's scaled face. He had respected the authority of my beast, and Vemithor in turn had leaned into the Lord's touch. That moment had brought heat to my stomach and tugged at my insides. The Bronze Fury was not easy to befriend. 

I saw him across the altar in the sept where I took him on a tour, his head bent in prayer, dark hair framing his face. He had caught my eye and held it, unblinking, keeping it until I looked away.

I saw in the golden hour in the training yard, his gaze finding me between every attack. He moved like ice against his sparring partners: cold, calculated, hardened. No one bested him. When we walked to dinner together afterward, he walked behind me, and I had suddenly felt a tug at my hair. He gently pulled the ribbon holding my braid together - a braid commanded by my mother - letting my hair fall down my back. I like it down like this, he told me, wild and free, like you. 

Morning was unwelcome because it ripped me from the warmth of my dreams with him, but the realization that I was soon to be headed for Winterfell thrilled me. I quickly dressed and packed with my handmaidens before finding Jacaerys in the hallway. He said nothing, grasping my hand and nodding solemnly. We moved to the dragon pit together and prepared Vermax and Vermithor. When we exited the cave, I saw my mother and younger siblings watching on from above. 

"We should say our goodbyes," I told Jacaerys, "the Gods only know when the next time we will all be together is."

Jace nodded, and we joined with the rest of our family. I kissed each of the little ones on the forehead, pinched their cheeks, sniffed their baby skin, making every attempt to remember them as they were in case I was struck from the back of my dragon. Lucerys stood tall when I came to him, like the proud little fighter he was, and I gave him a tight hug and a squeeze of luck for his own journey. I worried for him dearly, but Lucerys was perhaps the most smart and capable of us Valeryen children, even at his young age.

"Good luck, raqiarzy," I spoke into his hair. He was nearly as tall as me at that point. "I shall see you soon."

My mother gazed at me with that look she always wore as I moved to stand in front of her. So diplomatic, so very regal. Sometimes I wished she would soften and just be my mother for a moment. But now, finally involved in diplomacy, who was I to her? Still her daughter, or some cancerous growth jeopardizing her claim?

I felt her arms around me. "Be safe," she whispered into my ear, "I love you, my daughter."

Tears filled my eyes and I hugged her back. I thought about all of our fights about my marriage. Who was I truly fighting? We were both shackled by tradition, still, I realized. Her claim had been an abstract future and now it had all come crashing down. She was still fighting the same battles against men that she believed to have won as a girl my own age. None of our past disagreements mattered now. Happiness and freedom were no longer mine to take for myself; they may be ripped from us all at any moment. 

My mother and I separated and she placed a kiss to my brow. Her stoic demeanor had faded and I could see wetness in her eyes. Jace offered me his arm and I reluctantly took it, turning away from my family and trying not to think about our uncertain future. 

The journey to Winterfell was long and cold, as many journeys on dragonback are, but I was comforted by the presence of Vermax and Jacaerys gliding back and forth below me. Our dragons, very different in size, flew quite differently. Vermax was nimble and slight, disappearing between clouds and darting in and out of sight easily. A formidable stealth opponent. Vermithor, on the other hand, was enormous and flew with simple, powerful strokes of his golden wings. He was fearsome, and I found him to be the most beautiful creature in the world. As terrifying as he was, our bond was strong. He never raised a tone at me; he grumbled and purred in my presence only, and awaited orders with undying loyalty. He had been my dragon since the time I was ten and four, and our relationship only strengthened by the day. 

The sky greyed as we flew further North and the air began to chill. I shivered not only from the cold but the impending reunion I was to have with Cregan. I had no idea what to expect. I had considered opening his letter but it was still too frightening to me. It left me even more unprepared for a conversation with him. 

When we reached Winterfell, Jacaerys and I circled Vermax and Vermithor a few times to signal our landing. We made no sudden moves towards the castle and its surrounding fortress, and landed in an isolated field. The wind whipped my long hair out from the veil I had tied around my head. It floated around my head like a halo as I squinted in the heatless sunlight. 

"Someone rides this way," Jacaerys called from the back of Vermax. He began to disembark and I glanced over to where he looked. A rider on a black horse, eighteen hands tall, came galloping towards our dragons. Vermithor let out a roar of distaste. He didn't like people coming near him - or me. I calmed him with coos in High Valerian and began to slide down his wing. The rider had stopped next to Jace and gotten off the horse.

As I crept closer, I knew it was Cregan. His stature was unmistakable. Tall and dominating against the bleak horizon in his furs. Gods, I had never seen him in his heavy Northern furs. It made me want to crawl within them, to feel the heat of his body around me. Coming closer, I saw him clap Jace on the shoulder with familiarity, and then turn his gaze to me. With no hesitation, he came towards me. I saw behind him Jace getting onto his horse, the ghost of a brotherly smirk on his face, and kicking the horse forward towards Winterfell. 

"What-" I began to question as Cregan came within arm's length of me, unable to finish as he pulled me to his chest in a tight hug. The furs were just as warm as they looked, and I melted into his arms. It had been so long since I smelled him. Like sap and smoke and ale and somehow roses. My arms snaked under the cloak and I could feel the hardened muscle of his body through his shirt. And then I realized - he was hugging me, as if he missed me, as if...

"I've missed you, my princess." He spoke into my hair. 

"You aren't angry with me?" I breathed into his cloak. He pulled back and took my chin in his calloused fingers, his face laced with confusion.

"How could I ever, my girl? You didn't read my letter?"

I flushed. "I was embarrassed. I thought you would have wanted me to keep quiet after I... lost control like that." He barked out a laugh, which would have made her feel ashamed had he not paired it with a gentle kiss to her cheekbone.

"I'll show you what losing control really is, someday," he kissed her cheek again and hummed. "Darling, I wrote you that letter and apologized for leaving so quickly... had it been up to me I would have stayed until you chose to see me again and asked for your hand right there. I had to get home to my son and my duties here but you have never left my head." Now it was his turn to flush as he recounted the contents of his letter. "I... I had begged you to someday consider me to be your husband if you ever found that marriage was something you wanted. None of my advisors could convince me to take another wife until I knew that there was no chance. I have held out hope for years, I have taken no other lover, and I beg you to end my agony and provide an answer," he dropped to his knee as if his body were giving out on him. "Is there a chance? Someday, that you would allow me to love you as I already do?"

It all became clear to me that my world was soon to fall apart, and standing in front of me was a man who was promising to stand by my side in the worst of times. As my family is torn apart and our power in the realm shattered. A smile crossed my face.

"You mean to tell me that the most eligible Northern Lord has been withholding his services from the ladies of the North, all because a faraway dragon rider was stuck in his dreams?" 

My teasing lilt was enough for him to look up at me and grin, standing to his full height towering over me. He grasped at my waist with one hand and cupped my face with the other. 

"They've been left wanting, I suppose." My Lord Stark said contemplatively. 

"As have ladies in the South." I told him, surprised by my own boldness and pleased by the delivery. 

He wasted no more time in capturing my lips, kissing me as if he were starved. He kept taking breaths to stare at me before continuing. His lips moved lovingly across my neck, my jaw, my throat, hungry to taste every inch of skin. After a while, I pressed against his chest and examined his face. It was even more beautiful up close than I remembered. His face an oval with hardened edges. Strong brows and thick pink lips that I was free to kiss. His hair pulled back haphazardly to keep from blowing in the wind. He kissed me one more time, this one softer than baby's breath, and held my head in one of his strong hands before nodding towards Winterfell in the distance.

"I let Jacaerys take my steed so we might walk together." He gestured back to the dragons. "Whatever they eat I will have brought to them."

"They'll eat anything. Even you," I poked his chest. 

"You just tell me if Vermithor ever starts feeling jealous. I shall begin to steer clear." 

We walked together, slowly, catching up after the last couple of years. I asked of his son and he told me that Rickon was nearly three years old. He stopped me for a moment. "I've already an heir. If we wed, I shall not force you to bear my children. You will never be just the mother of my children. You will be my wife." 

I smiled at that, saying nothing. Children hadn't crossed my mind. I supposed I was not ready to think about it. The way he spoke so definitely about our marriage gave me pause. 

"Cregan, I-" my words faltered, but I persisted. "I think you ought to know that I didn't come here just to see you." 

He chuckled. "I figured as such when you brought your brother and two dragons."

I blushed. "We need you and your army to stand by my mother. My uncle has taken her throne. My grandsire's crown was scarcely off his head before Aegon took it. My mother raises an army to stand against him. I am not a bargaining tool, I will not marry you for an army-"

"-I would never presume to trade you like an animal. The North will see your mother, the rightful queen, on her throne, you have my word. I want to marry you because I fell in love with you in King's Landing those years ago, and I wish for you to be free as you want to be. If marrying me is not how you will find your freedom, I will accept your answer." The concept seemed to pain him. 

Would marriage truly shackle me? Being with Cregan felt like being on dragonback for the first time. It felt like gliding over a lake of glass water, your arms outstretched. I had fought and fought for so many years to be free, but free from what? I now saw in front of me a new kind of freedom, away from the clawing hands that surrounded the crown always. I saw a man who chose me and respected my happiness. I looked around at the rolling hills and distant mountains. The cool wind on my face. Bustling people entering and exiting the gates of Winterfell. Perhaps I imagined it, but I heard laughter. Children. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt peace.

I opened them again to see the hopeful face of Cregan Stark awaiting my words. If what he said was true, would he remain here in front of me for the rest of my life, always waiting to grant my next wish?

I smiled. Reached out to him. Snaked my hands around his neck, brought his face close to mine. 

"I choose me," I told him quietly. "So, I choose you."

We sealed the betrothal with a kiss. 

[sebscore]

I love your leclerc a sister stories. Do you think you could do something possibly were maybe the reader has diabeties or something similar and she is not very well at the race weekend so her brothers have to look after her, or something along these lines. Thank you

HIGH FEVER | CHARLES LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader 

warnings: fever. reader is sick and feels weak. I based this off my own old high school, so if it seems weird- ignore it pls. little leclerc misses her big brother. 

author's note: i know it's not exactly what you asked for, but charles comfort is the premise so I hope you like it anyway <3 thank you for loving the stories, darling! 

• • • • • • •

Charles and Joris were sitting in front of the computer, going over the pictures the photographer had taken of his friend. ''I really like this one.'' The Ferrari driver pointed out a specific photo. 

''You want it like this or in black and white?'' Joris asked, his hand ready on the computer mouse to potentially change the filter. 

''In color is good.'' Charles confirmed. 

Their search was interrupted when the ringtone of Charles' phone started playing, making both of them flinch at the sudden sound. ''Oh, it's my mum- excuse me.'' He got up from his chair and walked into the next room for a bit more privacy. 

''Hello, ça va?'' Charles greeted his mother. 

''Hi, honey,'' his mother sighed, ''would you be able to pick your sister up from school right now? She's not well and I'm stuck at work.'' 

Charles frowned listening to her. ''Uh, yeah, I can pick her up. Is she okay, though?'' He asked her, concerned about his younger sibling. 

''They think she has a fever- it was during P.E. that they noticed something was wrong.'' His mother sounded worried on the other side of the phone, making him more worried as well. 

He walked back into the living room, grabbing his coat. ''I'm leaving now, okay? I'll call you when I've picked her up.'' Charles assured her. 

''Thank you, honey,'' Pascale seemed more relieved knowing her son was on his way, ''I'll come home as soon as I can, promise.'' 

''Great, bye bye!'' Charles hung up the phone and turned towards Joris. ''Sorry mate, I have to pick up my sister and take her home, but I'll text you and we'll continue later.'' He told his friend, walking to the hallway to put on his shoes. 

''It's okay, I hope she's alright.'' Joris brushed it off, he knows how much his sister means to him. 

Charles smiled. ''Again, sorry mate! See you!'' The driver waved one last time and he was out the door, getting to his car as quickly as possible. Charles lowkey regretted taking his custom Ferrari car as he knew it would catch people's attention and he didn't want his sister feeling uncomfortable with all the eyes on them, especially if she was sick. 

The drive from Joris' apartment to Y/N's school was barely 5 minutes, so Charles quickly pulled up to the building. It momentarily brought him back to his own times as a student, but quickly brushed them off. He was there for his sister, not for his own nostalgia. 

He walked up to the entrance door and rang the bell, not able to just walk into the building. He didn't have to wait long as the buzzer went off a few seconds after, allowing him to enter. 

The secretary seemed surprised to see the man instead of the girl's mother,  but she showed him where he could wait while she called the teacher that would bring his sister. Charles patiently waited, texting his mother that he had arrived at her school. 

''Mr. Leclerc?'' He looked up from his phone, seeing a teacher standing in the doorway. 

''Yes?'' 

The man fully opened the door and the young girl walked into the waiting area, not looking well whatsoever. Charles immediately stood up from his chair and strutted over to her, cupping her cheeks. ''Ça va, chérie?'' 

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of her older brother. ''I don't feel good.'' Her words came out small, making Charles wrap his arms around her for comfort. 

''It's okay, it's okay.'' He mumbled into her hair, trying to console her. 

The teacher next to them scratched his voice.''Here's her bag,'' he handed it over to Charles, ''rest well and I hope you feel better soon, Y/N.'' He glanced at the girl in her brother's arms, who tried her best to force a smile and mumbled a small ''Thank you.'' 

''Come on.'' Charles grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the entrance door again, bidding goodbye to the teacher and secretary.

He helped his sister get in his car and even buckled up her seatbelt. Charles drove out of the school's parking lot and they were on their way home. ''What happened?'' He asked her. 

''I don't know, suddenly I felt very dizzy and sick during P.E. and my teacher said that my head felt very warm, and then they called mum, and then they said that it's better if I went home.'' She explained the events of the day, leaning her head against the seat. 

Charles nodded as he listened to her words. ''It's probably a fever,'' he put his hand on her forehead, ''yeah, rest for a few days and then you'll feel better.'' 

''Yeah, she's lying down now… she looks very tired… yes, it's a fever, I checked her temperature… I'll make her something… okay, I'll do that… I'll tell her… bye, mum… bye bye!'' Charles hung up the phone and joined his sister on the couch. 

''Mum will be here soon, she just has a few more clients left.'' He told her, caressing her hair. Y/N timidly nodded, almost having no energy to form a coherent reply. ''Are you feeling a bit better?'' 

She shrugged her shoulders. ''I don't know, I feel the same.'' 

''You want some soup or something?'' He asked her, thinking of what he could cook for her. 

''Yeah, soup is good.'' Charles was about to stand up, but the arm of his sister stopped him from getting up from the couch. He gave her a confused look. ''What?'' 

''Don't leave yet, Charlie.'' She mumbled, her voice coming out very small. 

Her brother chuckled, finding it cute. ''I'm just going to the kitchen, I'll be right back.'' 

''But once mum gets here, you're leaving again and I won't see you for weeks.'' Y/N argued, not making eye-contact with him. 

Charles frowned this time, the feeling of guilt creeping up on him. ''What do you mean?'' 

''Sometimes I don't see you for a few weeks, because of racing and I understand that, it's your job,'' she explained, ''but even when you're back home, I almost never see you. You're either training, with your girlfriend, with your friends or you're doing some stupid social media things. They always get to see you when you're not racing, I get the 5 minute visit when you're passing through.'' 

He watches his sister with sad eyes, knowing that she was right and that he hadn't been spending as much time with her as he could. ''I'm sorry that I haven't been the best brother, I'll come over more, okay? I didn't realize that we haven't spent that much time together lately.'' 

''It's okay, I'm not angry at you,'' Y/N smiled at him, ''I just get sad when I see you're in Monaco on your Insta or something, and we haven't hung out.'' 

''We'll go do something after the next race, just you and me.'' Charles promised her, giving her a hug which she happily reciprocated. ''Okay, that's nice.'' 

''Can you make my soup now? I'm waiting.'' The moodswing amused him, her sentimentality turning into impatience. 

Charles stood up from the couch and saluted her like a soldier. ''Yes, chef!''

[artiststarme]

Come to Poppa

Based on a prompt sent to me awhile ago from @yaoiprofessoryuki. I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never close to his dad, not like a father or son should be. They never played catch in the front yard or camped out in the woods. They certainly never talked about sports or girls. The closest they ever got was performing elementary science experiments at the kitchen table until his mother scolded them both over their own laughter. One day though, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Steve became less of a son and more like a roommate that coexisted in the same house.They lived in the same house and their paths intermittently crossed when they were both in the house at the same time, but their relationship was gone. 

Nevertheless, all Steve wanted after fighting the demogorgons with the kids was to see his dad. He craved the comfort that only a dad could give through all-consuming hugs and emotionally stunted advice. His dad was a scientist, surely he could ask him just what the fuck those monsters were. If anyone could understand, his dad would. 

But after waiting up all night and into the next day, his dad didn’t come home. His secretary didn’t pick up the phone when he called and the hospital had no records of him. His dad was just gone, disappeared just like all the evidence of the demogorgons. Steve’s mom filed a missing persons report with the Sheriff’s office but even their investigations were moot. It was like his dad fell off the face of the earth. 

***

After their 1984 encounter and getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by Billy, the kids start hanging out at his house. His mom had taken to leaving for weeks at a time at the drop of a hat to avoid thinking about his father and Steve was climbing the walls in order to escape some of the oppressive loneliness that the house seemed to ooze. He thought the kids would find it fun to have a big house to themselves to make a mess in and just be kids away from the responsibilities of the Upside Down. He was wrong. 

Eleven froze as soon as the door swung shut behind her, her eyes on the family portrait that hung in the living room. In it was a sixteen year old Steve, his mother in her nicest dress, and his graying dad. It was one of the last pictures that they all looked happy in. But Eleven wasn’t looking at the picture in happiness or curiosity, she was looking at it in horror.

“El? What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Mike stood between her and the photo, his hand comfortingly rested on her shoulder.

All the kids surrounded her and Steve just followed her gaze and looked at her in confusion. When Dustin saw him looking back and forth, he snuck a peek before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Holy shit, guys! Look at the picture! Steve, how the hell do you know Dr. Brenner?”

Steve’s eyes scrunched in confusion, “what? I don’t know a Dr. Brenner.”

“There’s a picture of the two of you right there!” Lucas flailed his arm towards another picture of the two of them in black suits at his cousin’s wedding. 

“And right there,” Max added, pointing at a picture of Steve holding a report card with straight A’s and his dad beaming with pride to his left.

“That’s not Dr. Brenner, that’s my dad. Martin Harrington, not a Brenner,” he said while rolling his eyes in exasperation. The imagination of these kids was going to make him lose his mind one day. 

“No, papa.”

“Eleven, that’s not the man that hurt you. That’s my dad. He was boring and dorky, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Papa!”

“I think she would know who experimented on her for years,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. 

“Not if she thinks it's my dad!” Steve was really reaching his limits. He’d just wanted the kids to have fun for a day, he hadn’t expected slander against his dad. 

“What if it's the same person? Your dad and Dr. Brenner,” Dustin pondered. 

Steve just shook his head. “There’s no way, my dad worked at the Department of Energy for the government. He ran research experiments on electricity and water and shit. He never worked with kids!” 

“The Department of Energy was just a cover up for the experiments on kids!” Mike screamed.

That was the last line for El. As soon as Mike raised his voice, she flinched and threw the family portrait to the ground with a flick of her wrist. The frame splintered and the glass shattered upon contact with the fireplace tile. Most disturbingly to Steve though was the long tear in the photo separating his dad from him and his mom. An unfortunately positioned shard of glass had separated his dad from his family in the portrait just as an unknown force had in reality. 

“Hey! That’s one of the last pictures I have of him! He disappeared last year and you just ruined our last picture together. Fuck Eleven, he’s not your papa.” Steve dropped to his knees next to the broken frame without regard for the glass and fretted his hands over the portrait. 

“He’s a monster!” El yelled, an accusing finger pointed directly at the ruined canvas in his hands. All of the pictures on the walls fell to the floor with a deafening crash. In a single moment, all remnants of his dad were erased from the living room. 

“No! You’re ruining everything, stop! My dad was just a nerd that loved science. He might’ve been a little strict about grades but other than that, he’s a good guy!”

“Steve, we are telling you that that is Dr. Brenner. I don’t know why he has a different name at work or why you don’t know what he did at work but it is him. We met him last year and he’s missing because… Well, we’re pretty sure El killed him or at least really hurt him. That’s why he didn’t come back.” Dustin delivered the news as gently as possible but his words still registered like a knife in the back. 

“What.”

Suddenly, Steve saw everything differently. The missed basketball games, the unexplained absences and late nights at work, the weird interest in his experiments. It felt like the loving dad that he grew up with was a stranger he never knew at all. The kids didn’t seem to notice his shock or the fact that they had just ruined his life. They continued arguing amongst themselves until Steve tuned back in. 

“What if Steve knew about it? For all we know, he could've had a part in it! Maybe that’s why he wanted to join the Party. He could be reporting back to Dr. Brenner right now!” Mike ranted. Jesus Christ, Steve hated that kid.

“You really think Steve had something to do with it? I’m pretty sure he’s failing at least three classes right now. There is no way someone would use him as an accomplice in a conspiracy this big,” Dustin shook his head and sent a wink at Steve as if he was defending him. But Steve didn’t take it that way. 

They knew about his dad’s disappearance and were now insulting him? Fucking shit, he’d risked everything for these kids; his reputation, his old friends, his relationship with Nancy, his life! And they still doubted him and saw him as an idiot. They saw him as a traitor that would work as an accomplice to torture other kids. Fuck it. 

“Get out.”

“Steve, Mike didn’t mean-”

He cut Lucas off with a glare. “Get out! I don’t want you here. Just get out!”

They all walked out with varying degrees of guilt until Steve was left alone with nothing to do but look at the ruined family portrait with its shards of broken glass and cry about the injustice of it all.

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[turn3tifosi]

unrequited feelings

after weeks of ghosting from pepe's side, you had finally decided to confront him, and it leads to some confessions.

pepe marti x childhood bestfriend!reader

masterlist

If he wasn't going to pick the phone calls and answer the text messages, block you on all socials, then he was going to have to face you in person.

So here you were. At the Spanish Grand Prix with his mother. It was not that this was an abrupt plan (you had been here last year too, when Pepe won in F3), it just felt very different this time around, since Pepe and you weren't exactly the best friends right now that you had been last year.

Now that you were stuck in a room with Pepe (courtesy of his sisters who had no idea what had gone wrong between the best friends, but wanted them to be back to talking to each other), you were rethinking your choice.

"Why did you not reply? Or pick my calls? Or better yet, why did you block me?" You had wanted to sound strong, but as soon as the first words left your mouth, they just turned quieter and quieter until the last words were barely a whisper.

Pepe sat on the edge of the sofa, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his race suit. He didn't look at you immediately, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere on the floor. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until you felt like you couldn't take it anymore.

"I thought it would be easier," he finally said, his voice rough. "Easier to just…cut everything off."

"Easier for who?" you demanded, stepping closer. "Because it certainly wasn't easier for me."

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you saw all the pain and confusion that mirrored your own. "For both of us," he replied. "I thought if I could just…distance myself, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Pepe sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I love you," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "I love you in a more than friends way, and it's obvious you don't like me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you stared at him in shock. "So that's what all this was about?" you asked incredulously. "Joseph Maria Marti. You're an absolute idiot."

You took a deep breath, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. "I love you, Pepe. More than anything. And your actions made me think you didn't feel the same. I thought you were avoiding me because you didn't want to deal with my feelings."

He stood up abruptly, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. "You…you love me?"

"Yes," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I love you."

For a moment, you both just stood there, the tension and confusion melting away, replaced by something much sweeter. Then Pepe reached out, pulling you into his arms, and you buried your face in his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

"I've been such an idiot," he murmured into your hair.

"Yes, you have," you agreed, smiling through your tears. You broke the hug, and as you looked behind him, you saw his sisters standing there, with grins on both their faces, "Also, I don't think your sisters are going to let you forget about this."

"We heard everything," one of them said, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "And she's right Pepe, you're never living this down."

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. Pepe groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he hugged you tighter. "Well, I guess we better get used to it," he said, and you nodded.

[petriwriting]

Memories - Sirius Black X Reader

Summary: Harry finds an old notebook that belonged to Sirius during his Hogwarts days. In his scruffy handwriting, in an old dusty journal found in Sirius's bedroom is the story of Sirius' first real love.

A/N: Fluff, nostalgia, a little bit of angst if you look too hard. The reader is feminine, using she/her pronouns. Oneshot - blurb is very short but very sweet.

I made a friend today on the train to Hogwarts. She is very sweet and seems very nice. She had a ribbon in her hair, I thought that she looked nice. we talked and she said that she liked my hair too. I also made some new friends. I got sorted into Gryffindor house, it's crazy since my family is all from Slytherin house. I'm sure Mother will be so upset. She is always upset about something.

Harry read aloud to his curious friends, Hermione leaned over his shoulder curiously to look at the small dark grey journal, it was tatted beaten-down bound with leather, covered in dust, but well used.

"Keep reading, Harry," Hermione said gently, knowing that he wasn't reading it with malicious intent, but instead in an attempt to feel closer to his godfather. he turned a few pages until a page caught his eye, and began reading once more.

Reg and I got into a quarrel over some things that didn't really matter. he says I should be more concerned with our family. Reg and I used to be close, but after my third year, he became cold. I love my brother, but I hate to see him hanging around those gits. Malfoy in particular, but I know he is happy now as he has joined the Slytherin team. he's their seeker, but he's no match for Gryffindor this year.

This entry made Harry smile slightly, and chuckle. he continued to flip pages, it was heartwarming. He turned the pages, looking through some messy potions class notes and annotations, and an entry about the marauders map, and how he saw Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail.) sneaking out every night to sneak food from the kitchens. One page, in particular, caught his eye.

I Love Her.

I have loved her every day I've known her. She is brilliant, her eyes sparkle when she speaks, her smile is so bright it lights up the room as if you'd cast Lumos. She's incredibly intelligent, but kind. She's always been gentle with me. I've never met another like her.

I wish that I could make this all go away. All the secrets, the war, the hatred. I wish we could start a family one day, live in a little cottage, and raise children far away from here. We'd visit James and Lily every Christmas, and Remus on halloween. I could give her my mother's ring. I doubt Regulus would mind. We could be so happy. I remember the first day we met. I think i knew then that she was special. She has been unconditionally devoted to me. The night my mother burned my name off our family tree she held me in her arms as i cried and i finally felt what home is supposed to feel like. I wrote her a letter, expressing my yearning for her. I plan to give it to her very soon, along with a locket I picked out. Lily insisted on the dainty silver chain with a locket of our picture from our first year together, she even helped me enchant to image to capture y/n's smile as she sat next to me. she say's it's sentimental, and that girls like this sort of thing.

I never had a home, truly. just four walls surrounding me. My own mother disgraced my name, Regulus has been absent in my life. I'm thankful for my friends but my love for y/n is like no other. i just wish want her to feel the way i do, i hope she does. With everything, she can not get involved it's too dangerous. But I will love her anyway. The kind of love that could break the most heinous curse.

Harry stood for a moment, looking over his godfather's handwriting. it was sentimental. "I wonder if we could find her," Harry offered hopefully. "There's no mention of a last name." Ron pointed out. "I'm sure we could ask someone, if she knew the black family she can't be too terribly hard to find," Hermione said, offering a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Sirius would love that."

[blackroseguzzi]

Please continue the FATE series with Colin Zabel

pls pls pls 😭

FATE:

PART 5

SUMMERY: You first night as an informant for Mare. After spending time with Colin he finally decides he deserves the answers you never gave him.

Colin brought back two bottles of beer from the kitchen, and handed one to me with a small polite smile. He still drank miller Lite- I internally cringed at the memory of how he used to drink them all night up at the lake house. He would get super sappy after 3 or 4 and beg me to slow dance with him to music playing over the old record player that came with the place. Because of those memories, you constantly had to change the station any time ‘Love me tender’ by Elvis came on. 

“Shall we dive in?” He asked, pulling me out of my head.

“Let’s,” I nodded back, thanking him for the beverage. 

The two of us worked in the living room. I took of my jacket, trying to see if the heat boiling from my body was from my layers or from Colin’s mother’s glare from the dining room. She had made herself comfortable watching us as she pretended to read the paper. 

We were professional, not breaking character of our respected roles as we worked, Sargent Sheehan had given me a load of information to slip into Colin's ear and in return I was given the task to relay whatever he gives me back to her.

I couldn’t help but stare at his hands as they grabbed pieces of paper from the files on the coffee table. Those hands had explored my body like a road map. They were gentle and strong all at the same time. Colin knew just about every place I liked to be touched, and he had always handled me like he needed all of me desperately, yet so careful not to be too hard as to break me.

I felt a lump forming in my throat. I had never realized what I was going to miss until it was no longer mine. I chased happiness, but I soon realized it wasn’t real because I had nobody to share it with. Yes, I loved my career but at the expense of what I lost it sometimes felt silly to lie to myself that it was worth it.

“Well, I think we can wrap this up tonight “y/n.”

My eyes snapped up to match Colin’s glare, pulling me from those depressive thoughts that seem to always be haunting me. 

“Yeah I ah, I think you have a good start on things, thank you for giving me more to write about,” I smiled as I got up from the couch I had sat on so many times before. 

The familiarity of Judy’s home was both comforting and chilling. Judy was a picture perfect mother in law- and I was forever going to be jealous of the girl that got to bake pies with her in the kitchen, go along with her shopping at Bloomingdale’s for sales, and who Judy would show those sweet baby pictures of Colin when he was a little boy- both of them imagining what their future children would look like. 

As I stood, my eyes wandered to Judy who had a small smile on her face. She waved politely before returning back to her papers. She was probably pleased to see me leave.

Colin cleaned his throat after picking up all the scattered papers on the table. “I’ll walk you out?” 

I turned to him and nodded shyly, a flash of pink had to have brushed my cheeks. I had become a stranger in a home that felt like my own at one point in time. 

The cold night air felt nice on my skin after they had burned while being in the Zabel home. My feet felt like they were dragging as we walked quietly to my car parked out front. 

I turned, ready to say my goodbyes, but Colin’s hand shot up to stop me. 

“Please spare me, y/n. Please don’t say goodnight and leave like you don’t have that brutal feeling in your gut like I do.” 

I could feel my face fall as the act of acting ‘normal’ finally crumbled inside of me. 

“It’s like… like I swallowed a shit ton of rocks from lunch,” I replied quietly, digging my hands in my pockets as a small gust of wind whipped by us. 

“I can’t have you showing up at my mom’s, y/n.” 

I sighed, looking down at our feet. He had on casual shoes as opposed to his shiny work ones. They looked like the Nike’s I had gifted him our last Christmas together- the same day he gave me a ring I gave him a pair of shoes. In retrospect, I was the one who could have used the running shoes when I bolted from our engagement. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought we could just….” I failed to find words that would accurately match my feelings. 

“What? You thought we could pretend that you didn’t tell me you didn’t love me two weeks before you became my WIFE?” Colin cringed as he dragged out that word. 

I felt the tear roll down my cheek before I knew that I was crying. He was right, we couldn’t pretend that I didn’t do such a horrible thing. I was learning that I had not done him the favor I thought I did. 

“I had to leave Colin, and I'm forever going to regret how I did it.”

His eyes locked mine and I watched him bite the inside of his lip like he does when he was in deep thought. 

“I need to know why you didn’t  just have me come with you?” His words finally came out as a whisper, but resinated deep in my soul like he was screaming at me. 

I wiped another stray tear from my eye to fix my blurry vision. 

“You are the kindest man in the world, Colin Zabel. You would have come with me just to make me happy. I know you love your job and you wanted to stay and live close to your mom and our families for the rest of forever. I knew you would go with me even if you wanted to stay. I couldn’t ask you to do that after everything you ever did for me, but I needed that job. Writing is the therapy I never knew I always needed. You would have supported me at the cost of your own happiness and I didn’t want that resentment between us.”

“You’re projecting.” He stated flatly as he shook his head at me. I scrunched my face in confused. 

“You were the one who had resentment. YOU felt like you put me first and took that shitty writing gig and YOU didn’t like it. I would have compromised on just about anything if It would mean I came home at night to you. Nothing, not even my job, or my family, made me happier than coming home to YOU. So you were right, I would have gone wherever you wanted me to because you were it for me. If moving, getting a new job and not seeing family as often meant I would still have you then I would have dropped everything and packed my bags happily!” 

I stood there silently, every word hitting me to the core. I had never intended for him to blame himself, I had hoped it would wash away any feelings for me so he could start fresh with someone else who was content in every aspect of their lives. 

He ran his hands down his face and I wanted so badly to open my mouth to say anything but nothing I could say would make the pit in my stomach go away. 

“I guess… I just…” he drew in a deep breath before our eyes locked again. They were glassy, like tears would soon burst from the floodgates. “I always wanted to know what I did wrong... I just didn’t realize it was because I clearly didn’t show you how much I loved you.” 

The sob came from my throat and took me by surprise. Then the tears ran freely off my cheek and onto the pavement between us. Nothing would ever fill the hole that was open in my heart, I knew that for certain now. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I felt Colin step closer to me, and looking up I wasn’t expecting to be pushed into his chest while he hugged me. He was actually hugging me. 

“I don’t deserve that,” I replied, lightly pushing him away. He didn’t need to be hugging me during this epic meltdown. “I hurt you- you shouldn’t be comforting me.” I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my jacket sleeve. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry, y/n,” His words were gentle- and your gut felt punched again. 

“It’s fine.” I let out a slow breath before trying to compose myself. “I deserve it after everything- Fuck, I didn’t even say goodbye when I left….” I scoffed, now trying to avoid eye contact as words tumbled from my mouth. “I think not saying it gave me hope that our book wasn’t closed, that maybe our story was still unfinished.” I spoke softly, and the tenseness that hung on Colin’s shoulders began to lift. 

Colin stared down at me, his hand slipping from my shoulder. I was already regretting pushing away from that hug because his touch was so warm. 

Moments between us felt like a lifetime as the night air became more brisk, and I could hear cars on the busier road that was a street over. 

“I’m so sorry Colin, I'm just going to go back home early, I think I’m doing more damage than good being here.”  I went for my keys in my purse but Colin grabbed my arm, stopping me.

He cleared his throat, and I watched the wheels in his head turning. 

“No, Erin should get the coverage she deserves. Nobody would write her justice as well as you.” I could see the small curl of his lip and I suddenly felt the heat creep up my cheeks.

“Thank you, Colin. But don’t want to”- 

“You think tomorrow I can take you up on that dinner invite from this mornin?” Colin’s words cut mine like a knife. I felt my eyebrows raise as I tried to process what he had said to me. sliding his hand from my shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck, I could tell he was nervously waiting for my reply.  I blinked a few times, my eyes drying from all the tears that had come out of me. “For work stuff- you know? Probably better than having my mom watching us like a Russian spy. I swear she read the same page of that paper the whole time we were in there.” He finished. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at his words, and you nodded quickly. Maybe this trip was turning into a plot twist in our story after all. 

“I think that's a good idea, yes.”

“Let’s just try not to open anymore wounds okay?” 

I nodded again before finally reaching into my purse to grab the rental car keys.

“Thank you, Zabel,” I replied quietly, the feeling of my tail between my legs would probably linger there for a while. 

He opened his mouth, closed it and nodded. “See you later, y/l/n,” he gave one last small waved before turned around to walk slowly back up to his childhood home. I fumbled with my keys before walking to the driver’s side to get him. My phone started vibrating in my pocket as soon as I started my vehicle. I fumbled around my pockets before grabbing ahold of the buzzing piece of technology. 

“Sheehan” scrolled across the screen and you quickly answered it.

I didn’t even get to say hello before her voice filled my ear “Fill me in.” 

Mare was the one helping me get closer to Zabel all while covering this case, but I knew that if he found out I was giving her the information he was presenting to me that his ass was on the line. I just couldn’t stop the urge to be around him, so I let out a sigh before giving her every last detail. 

[bangtansmauyeondan]

Heartbeat (Midnight’s Minuet Bonus 4)

This is the fourth bonus chapter of the Midnight’s Minuet series. Please make sure to read the whole series and the other drabbles to have a better understanding on how two people who hated each other ended up here!

WRITTEN PART BETWEEN IMAGES!

•••

Pairing: Yoongi x Fem Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: Out of safety and well, selfish reasons, you and your husband have decided to keep a not-so-little thing a little secret… until it all spilled over one day.

-

-

“Hyung, what were you dreaming about?” Jimin asked Yoongi teasingly, eyes not moving from the screen as he fidgets away on his gaming console controller.

“What are you talking about?” Yoongi huffed as he slid his phone back in his pocket, sitting up straight on Jimin’s couch.

“You were smiling in your sleep earlier.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. I just closed my eyes for a bit and I just remembered something,” Yoongi defended without a bite to his words, recalling how cutely you’re freaking out over his mother stumbling upon “the thing,” which is frankly just a piece of paper stuck on the side of the fridge.

“Please don’t tell me you’re having sexy thoughts about your wife on my new couch, in my new apartment,” Jimin opted out of his game and narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“Am I not allowed to have sexy thoughts about my wife?” He jested, the corner of his lips lifting into a smirk.

“She’s my sister!” Jimin feigned a wail of despair as he slid himself dramatically off the couch and onto his fluffy living room rug. “My rank is also dipping in this stupid game,” he pouted, blowing raspberries and rolling his eyes.

It’s been a few weeks since Jimin moved into a bigger apartment after finishing his lease in the one that you previously rented before marrying Yoongi. He’s also been going through a rough breakup, so Yoongi (and Jungkook sometimes) makes it a point to hang out with him during his free time.

Yoongi really had no idea that his mother was coming over at the penthouse this weekend, and you were busy testing new recipes, specifically telling him to get out of the way (i.e. ‘get lost, go out, just don’t distract me’). So he had no problems leaving you in your own sugary sweet bubble, especially since he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of your mood swings.

A quick exchange of messages with Seokjin has confirmed his mother’s plan to go shopping with Nara the next day for some stuff for his new nephew, and that she’s staying at one of the family suites at the hotel. It’s only normal for her to go up to the penthouse to pay her other daughter-in-law a lovely visit.

Yoongi stood up from the couch, grunting like an old man, before stretching his arms out and cranking his neck from side to side, getting ready to leave. “Since Jungkook has already left for his date, do you wanna come home with me? YN said Eomma just came over.”

Jimin’s eyes flashed in excitement as he stood up with Yoongi, throwing the controller on the couch. “Okay!”

“She also said I really don’t need to babysit you all the time and asked me to come home.”

“Nah, she didn’t say that.” Jimin snorted at his brother-in-law’s blatant lie.

***

“Eomoni, stay for dinner. I’ll have Yoongi drive you home tonight,” you smiled warmly at your mother-in-law as you took the tofu out of the fridge, getting ready to start preparing for dinner.

“Oh I’d love to stay for dinner, sweetie,” she rounded the kitchen island and picked up a few onions from your produce basket, bringing them directly to the sink. “Don’t you worry about driving me home. I’m staying at the suite this evening because Nara and I have plans for tomorrow.”

“Oh that sounds lovely,” the affection for your bestfriend and sister-in-law is apparent in your voice. “I met her a few days ago because she picked up some raspberry tarts for Jihyo.”

“Jihyo loves those tiny raspberry tarts,” your mother-in-law almost swooned at the thought of her granddaughter. “When Seokjin was about her age, he loved munching on berries too. Especially strawberries.”

“Like father, like daughter!”

“When your husband was little, he loved any kind of sherbet, and that boy couldn’t live without tangerines!”

“Yoongi still loves tangerines, Eomoni,” you chuckled. “There’s this mixed citrus galette that I make for him all the time, and the ratio is supposed to be fifty percent grapefruits and fifty percent blood oranges. But overtime, it has become fifty percent mixed grapefruits and blood oranges, and fifty percent tangerines.”

“Wow. That sounds delicious. I bet it tastes sweeter, too!”

“It does. Yoongi knows his flavors,” you smiled at his mother fondly.

“I wonder if future baby Yoongi will get their dad’s sweet tooth,” she hummed nonchalantly, as she started slicing up the onions into nice thin rings. “By the way, Nara and I are shopping for little Junhee’s clothes tomorrow. That boy is growing too fast!” She exclaimed gleefully. “Do you wanna come with us?”

“Eomma, why are you trying to kidnap my wife?” Yoongi appeared in the kitchen just in time, and gave his mother a hug that surprised her, before going over to you to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“Eomoni!” Jimin followed suit, giving Yoongi’s mother a hug too. “What are you making for dinner?”

“Ohhh, Jimin-ah!” Your mother-in-law cradled Jimin’s face between her palms, which warmed your heart. “I’m helping Yn make sundubu jjigae.” She quickly looked over at Yoongi with a hard stare, “Where have you been? Why did you leave your wife alone at home?”

“I was babysitting Jimin.”

“That’s not tr–”

“Did you just come in? How come we didn’t hear you coming?” You asked, thumbing away a loose strand of Yoongi’s hair away from his face.

“You two were just busy talking, honey.”

“Your hair has grown out,” Yoongi’s mother commented. “I like it that way. Keep it. Don’t cut it.”

Yoongi nodded and just agreed wordlessly with her mother, and you and Jimin couldn’t help but exchange amused glances.

-

-

A/N — Surprise! I hope you enjoyed this. If you read back on their text messages, OC goes from yelling and cursing at him to telling him ily and i miss you. PREGNANCY MOOD SWINGS! 🥹

[dwarrowdelf]

o my brother

Seven drabbles for @maedhrosmaglorweek which I’m definitely not two entire weeks late for 😅 You can also read them on AO3 with any relevant author’s notes, but I’m posting them there in batches.

one: childhood/growing up

Of the brothers, Maedhros and Maglor were closest in age. They spent nearly their entire childhoods as a family of four, roaming the cultivated wildlands of Aman. Tirion upheld them as darlings, once the crown prince returned to the city: bright-haired, quick-witted Maitimo and sweet-voiced, silver-tongued Macalaurë, ever together. Two shining jewels to adorn any debate parlor, concert hall, or royal party. There were the other brilliant princes, and of course the beloved princesses, but the eldest house was ever the most brilliant and most beloved by the Noldor, in the days before Morgoth spread his discord to peaceful Valinor.

two: the oath

Maglor had not, as many suspected in later years, helped to craft the oath. Fëanor was a great orator and wordsmith in his own right without his second son’s help.

Their father had stood in the square under the Mindon and spoken his oath fiercely and without forethought. And what a rousing oath it was! The younger sons had been quick to follow. Maglor had looked to Maedhros and found him already looking back. Neither of them had wanted to swear it, but they had agreed, with that look, not to abandon their little brothers.

Funny how that worked out.

three: the long peace

“I cannot believe the audacity of that boy!”

“‘That boy’ is the Lord of Nargothrond,” Maedhros says, amused.

Maglor whirls on him, finger pointed in a hilarious mirror of their mother at her most high tempered. “He’s our little shit of a cousin who abandoned us on a hunting trip that he planned and then found the Secondborn! Without us! No, don’t look at me in that tone of voice, I’m very cross!”

Maedhros’s tremulous hold on his expression cracks, and he breaks into laughter. Maglor smiles to himself, relieved to see the tension finally slipping from his brother’s shoulders.

four: nirnaeth arnoediad, reputation

Maedhros’s well-earned reputation precedes him. Orcs would sooner run than face him, fearsome as he is; even trolls and wargs are wary.

Maglor’s reputation precedes him too, carefully crafted. The kind brother, the soft brother, nevermind that softness alone could never hold the least defensible line of the leaguer. But it is good to be underestimated, good to let everyone forget that he was the one Maedhros trained against when relearning the sword.

That soft reputation is why Ulfang’s eyes are wide with shock in the head that Maglor cleaves from his body for the crime of betraying his brother.

five: change and loss of self

Being burnt by the Silmaril did not break Maglor as it broke his brother, though losing him nearly did. What broke Maglor, in the end, was realizing that the burn would never heal such that he could play any two-handed instrument again.

He contemplated, then, following in the footsteps of his brother or grandmother.

But many years ago, when Maedhros still could not leave his sickbed, they had picked apart the Oath. It seemed fit to kill them all, but they thought if just one of them lived, perhaps the rest might have a chance, however small.

So Maglor lives.

six: alienation and isolation, AUs and fix-its

Maglor dreams, sometimes: a voice telling him it is time to come home. His mother telling him not to stay out too late, his father calling that dinner is ready. Maedhros as he had been, slinging an arm around his shoulders and telling him he’s done enough and to stop hiding in his room before they all forget what he looks like.

Sometimes he wakes up after those dreams at dawn or dusk, and a red-orange sky tricks him a moment longer.

He confesses all of this to a stranger near Mithlond, and finds himself on a boat sailing West.

seven: fate

Maglor never came to the timeless halls, and Maedhros feared. The only tapestry he could find of his brother was a vast stretch of shore with one figure, alone, walking. Anyone who might have news, he asked.

Lost, faded, disappeared, they all said, some even with pity.

Maedhros reembodies last of his brothers, and there, there is Maglor. Maedhros folds himself without thought into supplication older than Valinor, begs forgiveness from the one he most wronged.

Two scarred hands deign to cradle his face. “There is no need. Only do not leave me again, I beg you.”

“Never,” Maedhros swears.

[breezy141]

༺♡༻ similar stories || simon ‘ghost’ riley ༺♡༻

༻✦༺ part one ~ the beginning ༻✦༺

“i didn’t carry you for nine months just for you to turn around and tell me your leaving. you are not going anywhere y/n, once your eighteen, then you can do whatever the fuck you want, but while your here and living under my roof. you will not be going anywhere!” you wanted to leave, you were prepared for the worst but clearly you had no idea how far it would go.

“at this point, i wish you never carried me. should have gotten rid of me when you had the chance! since i was little you have never been a mother to me. no wonder dad left! at least he treated me like i was something” you clutched your cheek. the woman you called your mother just..slapped you.

slapped her daughter, her only daughter. tears pricked at your eyes, you didn’t dare to cry infront of her. didn’t want her to think you were weak. all you remember was rushing to your room and packing all your bags with whatever you could get your hands on. clothes, socks, blankets, pictures. everything.

it was an impulse decision but you knew it was for the best. “y/n! y/n i swear to god you get back here right now!” your mother shouted to you from the bottom of the stairs, ignoring her you continued packing your things. in due time she made her way up the stairs calling you every name under the sun.

as you threw your art supplies in a separate bag, mother barged her way into your room. grabbing a chunk of your hair and-

“y/n?” a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, startling you a little “you’re zoning out again” you nodded, apologising for ignoring your friend.

you were stood in the kitchen of your home, near the sink, the tap had been running for how ever long you were stood there in a trance of your own thoughts. “no worries, thinking of her?” nodding as you turned off the tap, you turned around to look at your friend.

“i wish things didn’t go the way they did, i mean i don’t even talk to connor anymore. she tore the family apart, i hope he’s okay”

“i’m sure he is, you always said how much of a brave fella he was. he saw the things she used to do to you, he knows she isn’t a good person. hell, maybe he’s trying to get out of there too, maybe already has” your friend pushed himself away from the counter and made his way to you.

“he’s okay lass, trust me” you nodded and shot him a smile “thanks johnny” he nodded and began walking to the back garden. “come on, come celebrate” after contemplating a little if you wanted to go back outside, you decided you might as well. some of your closest people were out there waiting for you.

running a hand through your hair you decided on following johnny out and apologising for your absence. “ah hey kid! bout time you joined us again!” john price, practically the guy who saved you in a way, without him you’d probably be living on the streets.

a week after the incident you planned out a way to escape from home without mother noticing. it didn’t take a lot of planning, as you picked up her familiar routine. she came home from work, drank a few bottles of cheap beer, then slept the rest of the night.

so, you waited for her to pass out drunk of the sofa, once that was confirmed you slipped a note under your brothers door explaining what you were doing, why you’re doing it and how he can contact you in the future if he wanted to. after that, you slipped out the back door and ran as fast as you could without trying to alert the neighbours dog.

unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a plan after this. so the only thing you thought of was to go around knocking on people’s houses asking to stay the night, probably the most unsafe thing you could have done however it couldn’t have gotten any worse.

thankfully, after an hour or two of getting told no, you happened to knock on the door of a gentleman who was willing to help. the man who opened the door was in plaid dressing gown, with brown joggers on and slippers. when he opened the door, he looked at you from top to bottom assessing your appearance. slugged shoulders, pleading eyes, chapped lips and a scar that went from your temple to to your jaw.

for some unknown reason he intimidated you, it made you forget the same thing you had rehearsed to the many other people before him. “i-i just ran away from home, for a good reason” you quickly added on.

“i’m only 17, i have have no where to stay and i was just wondering if i could maybe stay the night. i know it’s a huge ask but i’ll only be here to the sun comes up and i’ll be gone. i don’t mind where i stay i just..i need somewhere to stay” you let out a deep sigh, feeling relieved. the way he looked at you made you have a little bit of hope.

“name?” he deeply said, your furrowed your eyebrows “what’s your name?” your face relaxed, again it built up the feeling of hope “y/n l/n” he nodded “come on then”

it had taken you back, you smiled slightly “really?” he nodded “come on, your letting the cold in” you nodded and quickly hurried up the steps. you squeezed past the man, saying thank you nearly a million times. he showed you to a spare room he had in the basement of his home.

his home was cosy and inviting. you scanned the environment as he showed you down the steps, he had pictures of him, friends, family as well as army pictures, medals and self portraits of himself.

“you’ll stay down here, tomorrow we can discuss what your plan is. i’ll wake you up at eight thirty, can you eat everything on an english breakfast?” is he offering me a full english? you nodded your head. “night” he said while walking back up the steps.

-end of part one-

-•-•-•-

this first part was just an introduction to the story. i really hope you guys will enjoy this, i’m hoping to actually keep on top of this. i’ve had writers block FOR SO LONG and finally decided to just go for it.

love you 🫶🏻

[palmofafreezinghand]

date night

Esme and Carlisle catch up before a date night with Carlisle's new coworkers. on ao3 here.

2023. 

That evening Esme Cullen looked every bit like the twenty-six-year-old she physically was, despite feeling older than she ever had in her one hundred and twenty-eight years of life. 

Her ‘youngest daughter’ and granddaughter had helped pick and style her outfit that evening, which felt like a ridiculous Halloween costume of a “twenty-something.”  The dress, floral printed linen, fell to the middle of her calf, and a silt in the skirt reaching the middle of her thigh was held up by spaghetti straps that seemed architecturally unsound. Alice had sent it through the mail months prior with a note that only said ‘Trust me.’ It was from a brand that started with R, Resolution, Renovation, Restoration, Reformation, or something like that. The dress showed more skin than the negligee Esme had worn on her wedding night. Granted, that garment had long sleeves, and a high neck, and went to her ankles, but the point still stood. 

Alice had assured her the dress would not get her stoned in the town square and was indeed very in fashion and the “perfect” choice for that evening’s date. One of her husband’s many current occupations was a first-year residency at a large teaching hospital. He was pretending to be in his mid-twenties, barely out of medical school, and newly-ish married. His coworkers had formed a unique sense of camaraderie and after a lot of persuasion had convinced Carlisle, who in turn convinced Esme, to join them and their partners for drinks and dinner.  

It was a stark contrast from Esme’s own career — a phrase which still felt surreal to use — where she was pretending to be in her late thirties with the help of a remote workplace, clever makeup and fashion choices, and extremely well-forged government documents. It was a relief to not have to pretend to be an early professional for the rest of her eternity, unlike her husband, but it had its downsides. When you tell a lie enough, “thirty-nine, no kids, my husband doesn’t mind how much I work,” it becomes true in a way.

Going back to the truth, twenty-six deliriously in love with a man who cared very much that she worked so frequently, felt like entering a world she didn’t belong in. It was a disconnect she had become well acquainted with over the years, whether her role was housewife, devoted adoptive mother, or college student to the public she was always something different to those she lived with. A wife who expected equal domestic labor, a twenty-six-year-old woman whose house a bunch of teenagers lived in, or a grandmother. It was a necessary part of how they lived, molding into the role humans expected of them no matter how uncomfortable the fit. 

This role in particular —  the woman she was forever frozen as — was more disquieting than most. The dress did not help. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window as she walked and paused mid-step after determining the real estate office was closed for the day. She had let her hair dry naturally in the waves she rarely let see the light of day. Her makeup was done with the instruction of Alice and Ness over a video call. They had spent ten minutes instructing her how to comb her brows and where to place her rogue because apparently applying blush where a blush would naturally occur was no longer in fashion. 

Alice had called the second she saw Esme debate bringing a jacket for modesty’s sake, informing her under no circumstance was Esme allowed to ruin her handiwork. Ness had chimed in from across the room, “Just because you’re a grandmother doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.” The three stayed on the video chat for forty minutes, falling into a familiar warm rhythm despite being on separate continents. The entire family had not all been in the same place at the same time for more than four years. She was able to ignore this fact most days with the aid of modern technology but seeing their smiles and watching them laugh had the homesickness making itself known. Esme had only made an excuse to hang up the call when Ness attempted to explain the definition of the word ‘gagged.’ 

Her world, which was supposed to be unchanging until the end of time, had morphed into something unrecognizable over the last century. The downtown street she was walking along, for example, was unidentifiable as the small town she had vacationed in seventy years prior. It was a three-hour drive from their current home, but only twenty minutes from one of the hospitals Carlisle worked at. The streets were still fairly empty, due to the group meeting for dinner on a weekday afternoon. It was an ideal time for the hospital staff’s schedule, and those with vampiric-based concerns about sun, but apparently, it was not a popular time for dinner for most people. The setting sun and overcast meant she was able to walk down the sidewalk freely, without worrying about blinding a passerby and subsequently being murdered by a group of cape-wearing Italians or the overwhelming cacophony of thousands of beating bloody hearts. 

That afternoon the heartbeats were a hum she could ignore, like the buzzing of a gnat. There were probably under a hundred people on that block, tucked away in businesses and apartments or driving by in their cars. She could ignore them. 

A man let out a wolf whistle behind her, punctuated by the slam of a car door. She could murder even the strongest man with minimal effort, yet, there she was gripping her purse and quickening her step, the intrinsic fear present no matter how minor the danger. 

Thirty seconds later a large hand splayed against her lower back. She flinched ever so slightly at the contact before she recognized the weight of the hand, the cold of the gold wedding band, and the smell of the Sandalwood body wash she had purchased for him on a whim the month prior. Her fingers loosened around her purse strap as she glanced up at her husband. 

“Hello, love,” Carlisle said, keeping the hand on her back as he pressed a kiss to her temple. 

She gave him a once over. He had dressed just as ‘young’ as she had, only for him it didn’t look like a costume. He was wearing a light blue button-up, the top two buttons undone to reveal his neck but not his undershirt.  His hair was styled looser than usual, a stray lock lying on his forehead, as usual. For the past few months, he had experimented with a pair of unnecessary glasses, with a modern take on Oxford frames. The outfit was quite becoming and he knew it. 

“I hope,” she said, taking a step to the right so they were out of the line of nonexistent foot traffic, he, of course, followed right alongside her to stand in front of her, “I am the only woman you whistle at like that.” 

“I assumed you knew it was me,” he said, brow furrowed as it always did when she flinched as she had, “my apologies.” 

“I figured it out quick enough,” she said, waving away his unnecessary apology. 

He nodded but was clearly unappeased by the way he was pressing his lips together, resembling a thin line. 

She poked at the center of his chest, “Are you going to greet your wife properly or just holler at me on the street?” 

“Oh,” he grinned, placing his hand on its former spot on her back to pull her closer and give her the requested kiss hello. 

After far too few seconds she reluctantly broke the peck, which both were attempting to escalate. “We’re in public,” she muttered inches away from his lips, her arm had somehow found its way around his neck. 

“This may be hard to believe, but a man can kiss his wife in public these days,” Carlisle smiled, leaning in for another kiss, which was met with his wife’s cheek as she turned her head. 

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” she laughed, untangling her arm from his shoulders. 

He sighed but did not attempt to refute her statement, knowing he could not win that argument. One public indecency warning had been enough of a deterrent for both of them. The fact it had been written by their son’s father-in-law had only served as a further incentive against public displays of affection. 

“I’ve missed you,” he smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“I missed you.” 

It had been almost two weeks since they had seen each other last. Carlisle was working himself to the bone, holding positions at two separate hospitals and working part-time at a charity clinic. To her credit, Esme was also working herself to the bone, taking full advantage of the boom in the work-from-home movement consulting for half a dozen firms, and serving countless nonprofits. When the two were finally able to carve out time for each other they were forced to take advantage, knowing it could be weeks until they would see each other again. 

Miraculously this evening had worked out for both of their schedules. They each had eight hours free of any obligations, they would spend two or three hours socializing and still have five to themselves. They had managed to plan to arrive at the restaurant separately, fifteen minutes before everyone else had scheduled to arrive. 

“Did I compliment the dress yet?” Carlisle asked quietly, his fingers mindlessly playing with the back buttons. 

“You did not,” Esme smiled. 

“It’s divine,” he said, dropping the hand on her back to take her hand as she began to lead them down the block. His gaze never left the dress. “Just incredible.” 

“It was a gift from Alice.” 

Carlisle fetched his phone out of his pocket, “Siri, remind me to send Alice a thank you gift.” 

“Done,” the robotic voice of his phone responded as he slipped the device back into his pocket. 

Esme laughed, leaning into his side. “You don’t look too bad either.” 

“You like me in blue.” 

Esme grinned. They walked for a minute, slower than the average human before she spoke. “You don’t think the dress is too revealing?” 

He glanced down at her, looking over the dress again as if he had not been leering a minute before. “Not at all. But have I ever objected to you wearing less clothes?” 

Her own laugh caught her off guard, as the juxtaposition of her seemingly innocent son of a preacher husband speaking freely always did. 

“Do you not like it?” Carlisle asked sincerely. 

She shrugged. “It’s pretty, but it’s a little more daring than I’m used to.” 

“If you’d like to take it off I’d be more than willing to assist,” he winked. The frequency with which he did this gesture indicated he must have thought it charming, even though it had never worked on his wife.  Alright, it did not work on her often. 

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, smacking his arm lightly.  

Despite her impressive charade of levity, he dropped the flirtation. “If you are uncomfortable, I have a sweater in my car. I’m parked right there,” he said, motioning behind him. 

“I would appreciate that,” she said, and they turned to head back the way they had just walked. “How was work?” She asked as they walked. 

“Less frustrating than the last time I saw you.” 

“Is Dr. Barnes still making calls you disagree with?” 

“Frequently,” he sighed, digging his keys out of his car, “but none of his choices cost a life this week.” 

“Small victories?” She joked. 

“I have always been envious of your ability to find the positive in any situation,” he said popping the trunk. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift that has gotten me nearly killed on more than one occasion.” 

He laughed politely, but his eye twitch gave away his disturbance at the reference to her ‘near death’ experiences he hated to remember.  She stood on the sidewalk, peering into his trunk as he dug. 

“Sandy was nice enough to drop off the fabric you ordered,” he said, moving a large pink plastic shopping bag. One of the hospitals he worked at was minutes away from a quilt shop. Rather than pay for shipping or drive hours from home Carlisle graciously agreed to pick up her orders on his way home. “She threw in a couple of charm packs and jelly rolls.” 

“How well are you tipping her?” Esme scoffed. He only smiled in return. 

Along with the fabric were three changes of scrubs tucked in a plastic crate, his usual medical bag, and an open duffel bag he had been living out of for three years. He picked a half dozen books out of the bag. She rolled her eyes when he took out a framed photo of her. Finally, he found what he was looking for, he passed her the forest green cardigan. 

“This is mine,” she said. He nodded, eyebrows raised in question. “Why do you keep my sweater with you?” 

He looked down at his feet, a lopsided smile. “I miss you, occasionally.” 

“Is that my shampoo?” She asked, looking in the duffel bag. 

“I miss you, frequently,” he grinned. 

It was shocking, and very charming, even after a century, how much he seemed to fancy her. “Perhaps, if you didn’t work the jobs of six people you would see me more often.” 

“Remind me how many W-2s will you have this year?” He asked, locking the car. 

 “This isn’t about me,” she said, slipping on the cardigan. “Does this ruin the look?” She asked as he joined her on the sidewalk. 

“I think that would be impossible,” he said, taking her hand again. “Do you want to sit for a few minutes?” He asked, motioning to a bench down the block. She nodded and they began to walk. 

“How is your work?” Carlisle asked. 

“Wonderful, I got assigned to lead on the mining town project.” 

“Congratulations! That’s the mining town soon-to-be strip mall right?” 

“That’s not funny,” she said, squeezing his hand in jest. “I also got an offer for an on-site project in Delaware.” 

“Oh?” Carlisle asked, making a poor attempt at hiding his disdain for on-site projects. He was barely tolerating her current work schedule and he got her undivided attention once a fortnight, six months apart with hundreds of miles dividing them would be uncomfortable, to say the least. 

“I did not accept,” she said. 

“If you wanted to—” 

“I don’t,” Esme reassured him, taking a seat on the bench. He took the seat next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. Her hand rested on his knee, her head on his shoulder. “I spoke to Alice and Ness today.” 

“How are they?” 

“They seem well. Alice is Alice. Ness said she would be calling you soon about something at work I didn’t understand.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching people across the street. An elderly couple were walking down the street bickering. A man in his forties was talking on the phone, a small dog dragging him along the sidewalk. A young couple turned the corner, with three children in tow. A little boy, four or five, with bright red hair was being terrorized by his little sister, a blonde who could not have been older than three. The parents had their hands full with an infant who was screeching like an owl. 

Esme didn’t speak until the family walked into one of the shops. “I miss them,” she said. 

“As do I. It’s been too long.” 

“Have you earned any paid time off yet?” 

“A few days, but I will have two weeks next year. Perhaps we could invite them out for the holidays?” 

“I don’t want to trouble them,” Esme said, she was interrupted by the ping of her and Carlisle’s cellphones. 

Carlisle checked his, laughed to himself, and angled the screen so she could see. 

A text from Edward, ‘We’ll all be there.’ 

A follow-up text from Alice, ‘Only if Esme takes off the cardigan.’ 

Emmett’s text came in as she was looking at the screen, ‘Carlisle wants to take off more than the cardigan.’ 

“What did we ever do without a psychic?” Esme laughed as Carlisle typed out a response and then stowed his phone in his pocket. 

“She does prove helpful in some instances.” 

“Ridiciolusly irritating in others.” 

“Yes, I remember the incident of ’57 as if it were yesterday,” Carlisle chuckled. 

“Is there anything I should know about your coworkers?” Esme asked. 

“There’s no one I’ll tell you to stay away from.” 

“That’s a first.” 

“I know. I think you’ll enjoy Madison, she works in pediatrics, and her partner the most.” 

“I’m looking forward to finally putting faces to all of the names.” 

“They’re all quite eager to meet you. More than one of them has joked you must be fictional.” 

“Technically I am,” she laughed lightly, but it sounded sad even to her. 

“Not the Esme I talk about.” 

She ignored the compliment, sitting up and glancing at her watch. “Should we start walking?” She angled her wrist for him to see. 

He shook his head, “They are all habitually late, I think we have time.” 

They returned to people watching. Her head fell on his shoulder again, and his hand on her shoulder started to play with her hair. The silence was comfortable, like an old armchair next to a crackling fire. It was often that way for them. A large truck passed with all four windows down, Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine,” playing so loud it shook the car’s frame. The couple simultaneously blew air out of their nose, glancing at each other with a smile. 

“I can’t say that was the song I expected,” Esme said. 

“Me either,” Carlisle agreed. 

They fell quiet again, her hand on his knee was mindlessly drawing shapes. 

“I have been thinking of something,” he said, breaking the silence. 

“I’m shocked,” she smiled, squeezing his knee. 

“Would you be opposed if this was the last time I worked this schedule?” 

“Are you truly asking me if I would be displeased by you working less?” 

“I wanted to make sure before any decisions were made. I have been thinking we give this all a few good years but the next time we move could be to somewhere a little quieter. A small town, with internet, of course, so you can still do your work, but where I won’t need to work seventy-twos.” 

“Carlisle, don’t feel as if you have to slow down on my account.” Perhaps she had given him too hard of a time about his schedule. She was in no position to judge. She was his wife, her role was to support him — 

“I love you but it’s solely on my account. When this was necessary it was fulfilling but now… I fear I’m too old to never slow down.” 

“I know what you mean.” 

“If you’re old what am I?” 

“No one is debating the fact that you’re old.” 

“So you would not object to moving somewhere quieter in a few years? Having me around the house more?” 

“Have you invited Edward yet?” 

“Am I that transparent?” Carlisle laughed. 

“I like to think I simply know you well.” 

“Bella has been eyeing a Literature program at a university in Canada. I know you have to stay in the States but there are quite a few border towns. It would certainly be less of a distance than now.” 

“I presume the rest of them would stay overseas.” 

“I don’t know. Have you spoken to Rosalie recently?” Carlisle asked. 

“No,” Esme muttered. It was a sore subject. “She’s invited me on a few trips I have had to decline, we have not spoken much since the last one I missed.” 

“You haven’t reached out?” 

“I’ve learned if she is cross it’s better to let her simmer.” 

“That may be, but I don’t think she’s angry. Hurt, maybe, but I think she’s mainly trying to respect your space. She’s proud you’re working.” 

“So you have clearly spoken to her.” 

“She calls almost every Tuesday.” 

“Really?” Esme asked. Rosalie and Carlisle had never been the best of friends, for many years they got along purely for Esme’s benefit. 

“She calls to ask about you. I won’t betray her trust but I think she’s trying to give you the same grace you gave her when she first moved out on her own. I respect this is your relationship, but I think you should give her a call. Maybe invite her out here, before the holidays.” 

“You don’t think she’s angry at me?” 

“If she is she will get over it quickly,” Carlisle shrugged. 

“I miss when life was simple,” Esme said, running her free hand through her hair. 

“Things with Rosalie were never simple,” Carlisle laughed. 

“I meant the whole world, I feel like a grandmother trying to figure this all out.” 

“You are a grandmother.” 

“Do you never feel as if the whole world is changing around you and you can’t keep up?” 

He scoffed. “No, I always feel completely up to date with the times. Pray tell, are women allowed the vote yet?” 

“I was asking a sincere question, Carlisle.” 

He squeezed her upper arm in apology. “Of course I do, Es. Frankly, I think it would be concerning if I did not.” 

“How do you keep up with it all?” 

“Many would say I don’t. In fact, if I recall correctly you would be the one leading that thought process.” 

“Carlisle.” 

“First off, I think you aren’t giving yourself enough credit. You’re quite progressive for a hundred and twenty-eight, even if our granddaughter doesn’t agree. Second, I think what helps the most are the moments I do feel young.” 

“For instance?” 

“When I see you, for one. When you wear your hair like this. When I look at you in this dress.” He had leaned closer while delivering this line, the hand not around her shoulders rested above her knee, slowly trailing to mid-thigh. 

“Is that right, Doctor Cullen?” Esme asked, recognizing his intent and matching the dare. 

It was unclear who initiated the kiss, she thought it was him, but all she knew was she certainly did not feel old and the world felt quite simple. 

“Get it, Cullen!” A deep voice shouted from across the street after what she would consider an embarrassing amount of time in retrospect. 

Carlisle broke the affection, turning to the man, the two were positioned in a way she was blocked from what she assumed was Carlisle’s coworker’s view. He untangled his arm from around her shoulders and waved at the man across the street. 

“Hello, Jaxson, with an X.” 

“You don’t have to say with an X every time,” the man, apparently Jaxson, bellowed across the street. 

“I assure you I do,” Carlisle chuckled.

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen," Jaxson yelled, she could hear the smile in his voice. 

She waved over her husband's shoulder, refusing to show her face. 

“We’ll be over in just a moment," Carlisle said. 

The man did not respond verbally, but Carlisle’s light-hearted scoff made her think there must have been a gesture. Esme waited until the heavy footsteps and boisterous laughter faded paired with the sound of the restaurant door closing to look at her husband finally. 

"Do I want to know what that gesture was?" 

"Proof that, while the entire world changes around us men stay exactly the same," Carlisle chuckled lightly. 

“That was absolutely mortifying,” she groaned, forehead falling on his chest. 

“I have caught him in the on-call room in compromising situations on more than one occasion. Trust me, he does not find this mortifying. In fact, he might think higher of me because of this.” 

“Just like in Grey’s Anatomy.” 

“That television program is completely fictional,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and then standing. He held his hand out to help her up. 

“You love that show and you know it,” she smiled. 

As they began to walk he draped his arm around her back, her hand slid into his back pocket. 

“To answer your question, this,” he said, hitting the crosswalk signal. She cocked a brow in question. “This,” he motioned with his head to the two of them, “that,” he glanced back at the bench with a lopsided grin, “are some of the things that make it feel like it’s not pretending and is what makes the pretending worth it. I can have an evening like this when I was fated for an eternity of solitude and misery, makes it worth it.” 

[dragonmasterkaylz]

Tangerine x Pregnant Wife! Reader: A Father’s Duty

This is a fanfiction based on characters from Bullet Train. I do apologise if the characters seem a bit OOC. And if you don’t like this, you don’t have to read it.

Tangerine’s private life was a mystery to everyone, except for Lemon. He didn’t want anyone to know who his wife was, or his daughter and so they were also given codenames. Cherry for his wife and Peach for his five year old daughter. He never wanted either of them to be involved with his job since it was possibly one of the most dangerous jobs on Earth. He just wanted them to live a normal life in London. So when the White Death found out about them and made them hostages… he was pissed.

Everything on the Bullet Train had gone wrong for the pair. From them losing to the case to Ladybug, to the White Death’s son being killed by some unknown killer, Lemon’s supposed death and Tangerine’s near death experience. Ladybug almost got him by accident, but he managed to escape certain death. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!!” “Sorry… it was an accident, I swear! I told you, I have bad luck!” Tangerine then rolled his eyes and pointed at Prince. “She’s the bitch you wanna fucking shoot! She’s the fucking Diesel!” Then she ran away. “… Bitch. Ugh”.

Then he stood up and mumbled, “Okay, here’s the deal… that bastard, the White Death, has my wife and daughter! And you’re gonna help me get them back once we get to Kyoto! After that, you’re dead but she’s dead first for killing Lemon”. Tangerine followed Prince and Ladybug sighed before walking over to sit somewhere else. He put his legs up and heard Prince scream, along with a gun shot before Tangerine walked back into the room. “Well, now that she’s dead… I still can’t fucking relax!!!“, he shouted, thinking about his family. “FUCKING BASTARD!!!”

“Daddy! You’re home!” He chuckled and picked up his daughter before kissing her cheek. “Hello Peachy. Have you been good for your Mum?”, he asked. She nodded and leaned against his shoulder. It was the middle of the night and she was tired. “Can you read me a bedtime story please?”, she asked. Tangerine chuckled and nodded. “Of course I will darling. But, where’s your Mother?” “Sleeping. She’s… um…”. He smiled since she couldn’t find the word. “Pregnant?” “Yes, that! She’s very tired”. He nodded and then walked to her bedroom.

After reading her a story, he walked to his own bedroom and found his wife sleeping. She was now three months pregnant and very hormonal. He slowly got into bed and hugged her from behind. She turned around and woke up. “Hello darling”, he whispered. “Hello sweetie”. He placed his hand on her swollen stomach and asked, “How are you feeling?” “Tired… so shut up, and let me sleep”, she told him before kissing him and then snuggling up to him. Tangerine smiled and held her close but gently. “I love you so much darling”. “Love you too”.

Tangerine sighed and then heard his phone go off. “Fucking hell…”. He answered it and asked, “What the fuck do you want now, you sick fuck?!!” “You will meet us in Kyoto, both of you, or they both die”, the White Death told him. Tangerine then slammed his head on the table and shouted, “Fuck! My wife is fucking pregnant and my daughter is only five! Why the fuck— well, he is a soulless, psychotic leader”. Ladybug then nodded and said, “I’ll help you as much as I can, man”. “Alright, then we need to come up with a plan”. That’s when an old man walked up.

He sat down in the seats opposite them and Tangerine felt his gaze on them. “Can we help you, mate?” He nodded and said, “My name is Shigeru Kimura, do you know where my son is?” Ladybug then said, “I think he’s dead”. “Yeah… everyone who was on this train, except for me and this fucker are dead”, Tangerine said angrily. Shigeru chuckled and said, “My son is not dead. And neither is your partner, my son”. He and the Ladybug looked at each other before running to the bathroom near them, where Yuichi Kimura and Lemon were in.

Tangerine opened the door and looked at his brother, then at Yuichi, who looked at his Father. Lemon then woke up and yawned before looking around. “Am I in hell…?” “You fucking bastard!!! I thought you were dead!!! You had me crying!!!”, Tangerine shouted angrily before helping his brother up. Ladybug then nodded and said, “You drank the water…”. “What water?! What the fuck are you on about?!” Lemon then put his hands on his brothers shoulders. “Calm down”. “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!!! That bastard has Cherry and little Peachy!!!”

They all sat down in the Momonga carriage, Tangerine sighing. “Lemon… if I have to trade my life to keep them safe, you make damn sure that he holds up his end to the deal. I just… want them safe”. His brother nodded and held his hand. “We’ll all get home safe, okay?” The plan was pretty insane, but it was the only chance they had to killing the White Death. And the brothers knew that they were feared by all, especially after that Bolivia job. But it was simple. Tangerine was going to be the one to kill the White Death and then threaten his entire clan.

The train stopped and the brothers got off, looking at Cherry and Peach. They were tied up and gagged, so they could no longer talk. “We’ve got your fucking case! Now what?!” The White Death then sent two of his men to check the contents of it. “Well… you completed only half of the job. And the Hornet did her part in killing my incompetent son”. Tangerine smiled and said, “Good. Can you please let my wife and child go now?” “You really care for your family, don’t you? Would you die for them…?”

Tangerine’s eyes darkened and he said, “If your next big plan is to sacrifice me for my family. Fine”. Tears ran down Cherry’s cheeks. “But, there’s just one thing first…”, he said with a smirk on his face. The White Death nodded and asked, “What’s that—?” Blood splattered all over the floor as the White Death was killed in an instant. Not even his own men or Lemon saw it coming. “Bloody hell mate”. “As for the rest of ya, since you don’t have a boss anymore, I’ll give you a chance to run”.

Then they trained their guns on him. “Yeah, thought not. Lemon! Get Cherry and Peachy into the train! Now!” His brother did so and then Tangerine shot at case, causing it to blow up. “Tangy!!!”, his wife cried out. “Daddy!!!” Peach then started to cry, when they heard further gun shots and looked through the broken windows. “Bloody hell… he’s still kicking”, Ladybug said with a smile. Tangerine had been pushed to the edge and seeing his wife and daughter cry… made him snap.

“He is an honourable man. Putting his family first, is what any good Father would do”, Shigeru said with a smile. Ladybug frowned and mumbled, “Weren’t you going to kill the White Death though?” “I believe that Tangerine needed to protect his family first. If we had waited… the White Death wouldn’t have had mercy on them”. They heard the final shots and Tangerine walked back onto the train, covered in blood. “No one… and I mean, no one makes my girls cry”.

Cherry then ran up to him and hugged him. “Honey! I’m so glad you’re safe!” “Daddy!” He hugged them both and mumbled, “I’m sorry for putting you both in danger”. Cherry shook her head and said, “You didn’t. He found out, ahead of time, where we lived. And when the ‘time was right’… they kidnapped us! I couldn’t do anything because—!” “Woah, Woah… calm down sweetheart”, Tangerine said softly before kissing her. Peach then smiled, tears in her eyes.

“Tangerine”.

“Lemon”.

“You’re bleeding mate”.

Cherry looked at her husband to find that he had two bullet wounds. One in his shoulder and one in his side. “Sweetie!” “I’m fine—!” Then she slapped him. “No! No telling me you’re fine when you’re not! Now sit down!” Ladybug then asked, “Is that case…?” “It was turned into a fucking bomb”, Yuichi told him, making him nod. Cherry then said, “Let’s get you to the hospital sweetheart”. Tangerine nodded and said, “Yeah… alright”. Then she kissed him again.

Five months later, Cherry gave birth to twins, one a girl and one was a boy. They were also two minutes apart, the boy being older. “Fucking hell… we’re gonna have our hands full”, Tangerine stated before looking down at them both. After the bullet train incident, Tangerine had only decided to do small jobs, so he could spend more time with family and protect them. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but seeing his girls at the mercy of the White Death scared him.

“So, what are their codenames?”, Cherry asked before giggling. Lemon walked in with Peach, who smiled when she saw her younger siblings. “Twins? That’s so cool!”, she said, excited to be the big sister. Tangerine chuckled at his wife’s joke and said, “That ain’t a joke darling, so like their names, we have to choose carefully”. He looked at his son and said, “Apricot”. And then his daughter. “Clementine”. The others smiled and laughed, but Lemon knew why he gave his family codenames.

To protect them.

And it was a Father’s duty to protect his family.

END

[serenxanthe]

After Ziost, a SWTOR Story

Part 4 (Chapters 8 - 9): In which Theron has to face the truth.

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Chapter 8

Sitting in the taxi on his way over to Satele’s apartment, Theron’s stomach lurched as he had a sudden thought; Lana! What if she’d been with Marr on his flagship? He’d never really forgiven her for that stunt she’d pulled back on Rishi, and their last interactions on Ziost had been the furthest thing from friendly, but stars! He didn’t want her to be dead!

Before he could talk himself out of it, Theron grabbed his communicator and called her frequency. She picked up, looking absolutely astonished to see him. His relief at seeing her alive and well was short lived, as she spoke; “Theron! I’m… sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.” 

Theron didn’t think he’d ever heard that much sympathy in Lana’s voice before, and she was the one who’d lost friends on Marr’s fleet, not him, wasn’t she? Wasn’t she?

Theron’s blood finally ran cold with real dread. Why did it sound like Lana was offering him condolences, and why had his mother insisted that he shouldn’t call anyone?

“Lana…” Theron started, but she looked behind her then back at him, interrupting him to say, “I’ve got to go, Theron; I’m needed to brief the Dark Council. But I really am sorry.” With a last terrifyingly sympathetic look at Theron she was gone. 

Theron was struggling to contain his body’s overwhelming fear response by this point. His breathing was rapid and shallow; it didn’t feel like enough air was getting into his lungs. His heart rate was elevated, but also seemed to be beating with an unaccustomed irregularity he could feel. He felt dizzy and sick. 

Theron spent some time cataloguing and analysing his body’s physical reactions in order to avoid having to think about what had happened. What must have happened to cause everyone around him to exhibit the behaviours, the demeanours, he was seeing. He knew, of course he knew, but he refused to let his brain think about it, let alone acknowledge it. If he did that, it would make it real, make it true. And it wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It wasn’t possible.

The taxi arrived back at his mother’s apartment, but Theron didn't want to get out. Getting out was the first step towards going into her apartment, which in turn was the first step towards hearing something that he just couldn't hear.

Still fighting his panic attack, Theron stepped out of the taxi. His mother was there, she’d obviously been watching out for him from one of her windows. Shockingly, her calm Jedi face was streaked with dried tears. Theron stared for a moment, then, “No.” he said to her. 

“…No?” Satele started to ask him.

“No.” Theron told her firmly. “I’m not going to hear this. I… can’t hear this.”

“Theron, come inside, please.” Satele said.

Theron shook his head, increasing his dizziness, his stomach lurching with nausea. “I don’t need to come inside, you’ve got nothing to tell me. Nothing that’s true, nothing that’s real.”

Satele’s eyes filled with tears, she blinked them away instantly of course, her Jedi countenance mostly still in place as she stood there watching her son’s heart breaking at a public taxi rank.

“Please Theron,” Satele begged him, “come inside. For my sake, I can’t…” she swallowed and continued, “I can’t bear to do this out here.”

Theron finally shrugged his acquiescence, his face more of a blank mask than Satele’s own. 

Chapter 9

Satele led Theron back upstairs to her apartment and once inside they stood looking at each other silently.

“You know, don’t you?” Satele said eventually. 

Theron shrugged again, his face still lifeless. 

“How?” she asked him.

“Your face. Lana’s voice.” Satele opened her mouth to speak but Theron interrupted, “I called her. I know you told me not to. She sounded sympathetic.” He laughed bitterly, the sound shockingly inappropriate in the heavy silence of the room.

Satele stretched out her hand to touch her son’s arm.

Theron stepped back, “I’ve gotta go.” he told her, and turned to leave.

“Theron…” Satele pleaded with him, “Stay. Talk to me.” Her communicator trilled. No doubt a Senate Official chasing up her presence at the emergency meeting. She switched it off. 

“Somewhere you need to be?” Theron asked her.

“Yes. But you need me more.” Satele said, “They can wait, or manage without me.”

His mother had put him first and Theron’s emotionless mask finally cracked.

“I know, of course I know. But I can’t talk about it, I can’t acknowledge it, I can’t think about it, because… if she’s gone, I can’t.” Theron broke off, swallowing desperately, “Without her, I can’t, I won’t be able to… I can’t live in a galaxy without her in it. I can’t, I’ll die. I’ll… die.” 

After starting off relieved that he was finally opening up to her, Satele had been growing increasingly horrified by Theron’s words. Did he mean them literally? She put her arms around him for the first time since he was only minutes old, and suddenly, shockingly, Theron burst into tears.

Hearing himself, Theron was mortified. When had he last cried? He couldn’t remember if he ever had. Sure, there’d been times when things had been going wrong with Seren and tears had come to his eyes; similarly, when he was younger and failing over and over again to feel the Force. But with these awful, wracking sobs, the tears running down his face? He didn’t think he had, not ever.

Satele let Theron cry, her arms still around him. Eventually, he stopped. He stepped out of her embrace and sat down on the sofa. He looked away from her, embarrassed at his outburst. As a Jedi, she must be horrified at his lack of self control. 

Satele wasn’t horrified by his tears, but his words beforehand? She sat down on the opposite sofa and looked at him. How could she raise her fears for him without pushing him away?

Theron looked at Satele. “Is it certain?” he asked her, an unbearable note of hope in his voice, “I mean absolutely, one hundred percent, certain?”

Satele sighed, this wasn’t going to help him adjust to his new reality, but she owed him the truth. “Theron, there are no living witnesses who saw her… die…” 

As she expected, that word caused Theron to visibly flinch and grow even paler, but he deserved better than the sugar-coated euphemisms people used for death.

Theron rallied, and asked the question Satele had known was coming.

“So she could be alive? She could easily still be alive?” Theron laughed with relief. He knew it wasn’t true, he knew it! 

“Theron, no.” Satele said sadly but firmly, “Don’t do this to yourself.” She swallowed, unsure whether to be even more explicit with him about what she knew. 

“What I want to know is why you’re giving up on her?” Theron said impatiently, “She could be out there, right now, waiting for us to rescue her!”

“Theron, listen to me, she isn’t. I’m sorry, but she isn’t.” Satele told him.

“No, you listen to me!” Theron said angrily. “This is the Emperor’s cloaked fortress all over again! If you hadn’t just assumed she was lost, we could have rescued her and Kira straight away! She wouldn’t have had to go through months of torture!” He shook his head and stood up to leave. “I’m going to get my shuttle refuelled and get out there, if nobody else will.”

“Theron, stop.” Satele briefly covered her face with her hands, steeling herself, then said, “There were enough privateers and surviving smaller Republic and Imperial vessels in the area that all the escape pods that made it off the flagship were picked up straight away. Seren wasn’t on any of them. And the survivors have already been debriefed.”

“A Corporal Ralo, Republic Army, reported that he met Seren, they spoke at length.” Satele paused, “I’m telling you this Theron, so that you know he’s a reliable narrator.”

Theron rolled his eyes with scepticism but let her continue. 

“He met Seren as she headed down to Engineering to rendezvous with Marr. Against his Imperial counterpart’s better judgement, Seren stopped to relieve some troops under extreme pressure from what we’re calling ‘skytroopers’. Ralo told us that later he heard Seren’s voice over the ship’s comms ordering them all to evacuate immediately.”

“What has all this got to do with your insistence that Seren didn’t make it?” Theron interrupted her impatiently. 

Satele sighed, “I’m coming to that.” she said with gentle patience. “Theron, what happened to Marr’s ship was… catastrophic. Ralo and others in his escape pod were watching out of the window as it was destroyed. The shields were already failing as they evacuated, and from the pod they saw the ship being… torn in two by fire from some sort of massive cannon on the alien fleet.”

Theron looked down, and drew in a shuddering breath, but then met Satele’s eyes again and said, “Ok, sure, that sounds bad, but it doesn’t mean that…”

“Theron.” Satele interrupted him, unable to bear listening to him continue to torture himself with hope. “That’s not all. Ralo reported that after the ship broke in two, the shields finally failed, and the next cannon shot from the alien fleet blew it up completely. There’s nothing left except debris. We can’t even recover her… body. I’m so sorry.”

Theron sat and said nothing for several minutes, his head in his hands. “I’m going to go now.” He told Satele eventually, his voice broken with suppressed tears, his tone dull with despair.

Satele was terrified for him, given what he’d said earlier. “Theron,” she started. “Are you going to be…” she hesitated, not knowing how to put it. Ok? She thought. No. He was obviously not ok. “…safe?” she finished.

Theron looked at her, his red-rimmed eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to snarl at her, but stopped himself and said, “Sure Satele, I’m going to be… safe I guess.”

Satele nodded, head swimming with relief. She didn’t think he’d lie to her outright about something like that.

“Do you want me to update you after we’ve had the emergency Senate meeting on the response to this new threat, Theron?” she asked him. “I probably shouldn’t, given your current status as a former SIS agent, but if you think it would help…”

Theron thought about it, it probably would help. Give him something to focus on at least. He nodded, “Sure. Yes. Thank you. But I really need to go now.”

[childhoodtv-kalimthefairy]

RidoAce week Day 1

Day 1: Childhood/Family

Yes I have a fic accompanying this drawing that took 3 hours and somehow ended up shitty. Also yes I’ll be doing both for each day, I am dedicated to this. I blame @writesology for getting me hooked on this ship. Anyways, Enjoy :)

When Riddle thinks about his childhood, he wouldn’t say it was a particularly exciting one. Really, it was more like a routine, he never had time to play with other kids because he was either studying or practicing magic. He remembered how he’d look outside his window, seeing kids playing and think to himself “Why would they waste there time? They don’t have a lot of time in life, why not dedicate it to preparing for a good future?”

Thinking back on it, he realized how idiotic it was. He didn’t know that though, at least until he met Trey and Chenya that fateful day. He remembered how they urged him to come outside to play with them, how that turned out to be one of the best decisions he has ever made. That day, for the first time, Riddle felt like a kid, a type of kid he read in his stories. Of course, everything must come to an end, that for Riddle was when his mother found out and banned him from independent studies. After that, for a few years, he forgot how it was like to be a kid. 

Then he went to Night Raven College, where he reached the rope really quickly. Still, he wasn’t well liked, his temper and stricklier for the rules wasn’t something people liked. And for a while, he was fine with that.

Until he Overbloted.

In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming. How all the repressed emotions, over use of his magic, and his general unhappiness made him finally reach his breaking point. Funny enough, the way he broke wasn’t cause of pressure, it was cause a loud-mouth first year decided that he had enough.  

Ace Trappola. At first, he really did think Ace was attractive. Tall, beautiful eyes and seemed charming enough. Of course after eating his tart, Riddle decided he didn’t like him. He was a annoying, loud- mouth bother to him and he couldn’t see why he thought he was pretty.

But…After he overblotted, apologized to everyone and threw an unbirthday party, Ace seemed to warm up to him. Riddle, upon noticing this, found he didn’t mind.

As the months passed by, he found he really couldn’t shake the thought of the first-year out of his mind again. Everything Ace did, he noticed and it drives him crazy how he keeps finding them endearing. He wishes he could just squash those feelings down every time he talks to Ace, or sees him smile, or just being him just made his heart flutter.

He thought at the time that it would’ve been impossible for him to love him. They were so different, not just that but they had such a weird relationship, friends? Maybe? Something else. He wasnt sure at this point…

But then, much to his shock, Ace confessed. 

It was when they were doing homework, Riddle helping him with a particular math question, when Ace told him.

“Dormhead, I really cant keep it to myself anymore, but i like you.”

And after that, it was history. Genuinely, the last 2 years in NRC had been one of the best years of my life, i felt like a kid again. Ace even gave me a promise ring at when I was graduating…

And now, were living together, almost 5 years later with out-

“Dad!”

Riddle looked up from his writing, grinning at the child who stood infront of him. He had Ace’s hair and personality but Riddles eyes, piercing blue. 

“Daddd, come one papa made some pasta for dinner! He made it pink! Pretty pink!” The child whined, tugging on his fathers arm. Riddle grinned at him, “Now that sounds good right now. Will you take me to him, Orion?” Riddle asked, picking him up and kissing his cheeks. Just as he said that, Ace popped his head into the room, a grin on his own face. “Come on you two, dinner is gonna get cold if you dont get out here!”

Riddle and Orion nodded, the child kept chanting “pasta” as they went to dining room. As they sat down at the table, Riddle couldnt help but reminisc a bit. I mean, he was writing a book about his life since all his mothers…unsaviory, practicies came to light. Plus, he wanted to have something to look back on. But he couldnt help but think how ironic this was.

As a child he was told to look forward, follow the rules, marry a woman and to act maturely. But here he was, sitting with his husband and child, chatting happily, not caring for the rules currently.

If he thinks about it, alot of this is thanks to Ace, Trey and the others.

He has alot to be happy about.

If he could go back in time, hed tell his youngerself to love himself a little bit more. Take risks and to not listen to his mother.

But, if he did he would miss all of this, wouldnt he?