#there also has to be 11 hours between your shifts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aloesarchives · 2 months

Text

Domestic Headcanons W/ Toji, Megumi, Tsumiki, and Mama!Reader

TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Pregnancy, Mention of Sperm but not sexual, unhinged crack, too long(LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of Mama, Wife, Mom, Mother)

Word Count: 10k words

This headcanon is paired with this one right here. This can be stand alone for general/modern au. But this one mostly revolves around my Toji Lives AU.

Also, I'll be posting either my Toji/Megumi/Reader mini series or Suguru/Satoru/Reader series this week. Here's the form if you wanted to be tagged in my works. Please let me know if something's up with it.

[!!Edited and Proofread! 3/27/2024 11:48 pm CST!!]

The married life with Toji isn’t any different from prior to marriage. You two live in a fairly spacious apartment for Tokyo Standards and well furnished on top of that.

The basic routine of you and Toji as followed: Toji wakes up and gets ready in 10 minutes, gets the coffee going or anything you drink/eat for breakfast, you wake and get ready for work, you and Toji eat breakfast together for a bit, Toji gives you your work bag and lunch, gives you a kiss and sends you out the door on time, cleans the dishes and table once you leave, looks to see if there’s anything you’re low on or out of and makes a list for it, Toji does some house chores before leaving to go run errands, goes to run said errands and buy some groceries, comes home starts meal prepping, you come home as soon as he’s finished cooking, both of you eat together, then chilling on the couch together after cleaning up, Toji forces you to go to bed, does your nightly care routine with you while brushing your teeth, then pulls you into bed where both of you are knocked out instantly.

House Husband Toji and Working Wife (Y/N) dynamic, I don’t make the damn rules. Well it makes sense as you have a sustainable and consistent job that pays comfortably for minimal work. Honestly, Toji doesn’t mind it at all but you both established your roles in the relationship but help out whenever possible. In fact, he loves being a stay-at-home husband. He gets to do his hobbies and chores without distraction, having a piece of mind, cooking food with you, etc. Highkey loves being domesticated.

While yes, he does get an occasional high paying job/bounty from Shui, they happen a couple times a month. But even then it’s few and far in between. You don’t mind working, your job pays you enough to not take any overtime and you never work the weekends. Plus you get a raise and bonus once in a while so you’re not scrambling to find a second job. Also, it’s worth it since Toji takes care of your shared apartment and you.

Both of you are financially stable to the point of comfort. Like only paying utilities because you and Toji own the apartment. Not having to worry about buying food or paying on time. Not taking up extra hours or shifts to just live. It’s a comfortable and stress-free environment you and Toji have created for yourselves.

Doesn’t understand the fuss about men not being stay at home material and it’s a woman’s job. He just thinks those guys can’t take care of themselves and will force someone to baby them under the guise of tRadItIonAlIsm or some bullshit. He understands if both have their jobs and work to split the house chores. It’s not a luxury everyone has and he knows he’s in the small percentage of people who get to stay home while their spouse works. If it works in the relationship, it works, Toji says. It might not work for some people but you working and Toji staying home works for your relationship. If not, it has made it healthy because there aren’t severe or frustrating arguments about house chores, errand runs, cooking, maintenance, home management.

You do anything in order to help out Toji because that’s your home too. Therefore, your living space you share and it’s your responsibility to at least take care of it. After work, you text Toji if there is anything you need to pick up or do for him while you’re out. 75% of the time he says there’s nothing you have to do, but the 25% is Toji asking you to pick up the dry cleaners, some food items he forgot to get while out, check if there’s a sale going on, or buying detergent and stain remover. Also text with a:

‘Doll, can you actually grab a few things from the supermarket? I’ll send the list to you.’

‘Hon, would you be able to pick up my jacket from the dry cleaners? Thank you’

When you say yes or of course, he’s hitting you with the:

‘Thank you, Sweet Girl. I appreciate all you do.’

‘Stay safe, (Y/N). Call me if anything happens. Love you, Baby’

Talks about buying a house and having a family happen a lot more frequently since the two of you got married. You always wanted to have a family of your own but wanted to wait for a good man to be a good father because you can choose a husband but your children can’t choose their father. But you knew Toji would step up when it happened. Toji didn’t think too far into his future but he knows he wants to have a family with you and grow old together. You changed his mind that he was okay with having a family and doing all that it takes to be a loving father and husband. As if he doesn’t do that already.

That and you two talked about how your genetics would make the most beautiful and good looking babies. Toji would say he wants your kids to have your smile and personality while you told him you want them to have his eyes and nose. This is one of those late night talks you have with him that you absolutely love.

You have an ungodly amount of money saved up to pay the house off in full or less than two years. You decided on one where it was a mix of modern and traditional. It was within walking distance of multiple subway and train stations while not being near the busy parts of the city. It’s in a more quiet suburb with good schools and nature. It’s a big home with the exterior of a traditional home but the interior is a little more modern. The main building is two stories and is the actual house, the building connecting to it is for guests, training/workout room/and a meeting room. The walls that surround the property are tall and sturdy. It looks like a mansion but feels more homey as you two start to make it your own.

So when you tell Toji you’re ready to have a baby, the man goes all in. Trying to watch your cycle and listens to the doctor in increasing his chances of getting you pregnant. Man looks up recipes that increase your fertility rate and balance out your hormones. Thinks about checking his sperm count but you declined saying Toji hasn’t done anything to decrease his numbers.

He definitely got good aim because it didn’t take long to get pregnant. After like 2-3 months of trying, it happened. You missed your period by a week and you decided to get a pregnancy test. You got the double lines and were excited to show Toji. He went to drop off your jacket to get it fixed and came home to find you sitting at the table with a napkin. You tell him to sit and he complies with a bit of concern. You gesture to the napkin and he picks up to see the positive text in front of him. He asks are you for real and you just nod. He pulls you into his laps and holds you while saying thank you and I’m going to be a dad.

Becomes protective of you instantly. Having morning sickness? He gets you a towel and some medicine. Sensitive to certain foods or smells? He will change them to your liking. Need him to do something for you? He’s already a flight of stairs ahead of you. He doesn’t want to stress you and the baby out so he’s doing everything.

As trimesters progress, the more protective and conscious he comes. Once you start showing, say goodbye to carrying items, doing some household chores, running errands, or fucking walking because this man will NOT let you do them. Is at your beck and call for anything and will become scary if people give you a hard time or look at you funny. Toji told you if your boss gives you a hard time, call him and he’ll talk to your boss with no fear or hesitation whatsoever. Once almost killed a man because he accidentally bumped into you. Toji had this look of death in his eyes as he grabbed the guy by the collar and forced him to apologize to you. Make sure the guy actually apologizes too. Walking? Who is she? You are only walking a couple of feet before he says ‘nah’ and picks you up to carry you. You tell him you can walk but it falls on deaf ears. Then you get concerned about being heavy for Toji. The man has never been more offended in his life. He looks at you, dead in the eyes, and says: “What kind of husband am I for not being able to comfortably carry my beautiful and pretty pregnant wife? If I can’t carry you, I need you to kill me, (Y/N).” You just get used to him carrying you around.

Always find a seat for you on a bus or the train. Will scare a guy who isn’t tired from work to give you the seat. Always hold your hand during the rides.

Talk to your bump every night. Hands on your stomach, face unbearably close to it, kneels on the floor or lies in bed to talk to it as you run your fingers through his hair. He’ll say some things that make you laugh but he mostly say sweet and warm things to your baby as he just wants to love and protect them. Definitely says:

“You know your mama is the prettiest and most beautiful woman out there? You’re so lucky to have her because you will be unconditionally loved and cared for. How do I know this? Because your mama loves me too, Kiddo.”

“Hey, be nice to mama. She’s not having the best time so I need you to go easy on her. Please, little one.”

“Hi, this is your old man speaking to you. I don’t care whether you’re a boy or girl. I will always love you no matter what. I wanna meet you soon.”

Does the thing where he lifts up your bumps to alleviate some of the weight for a bit and smiles when you relax into him.

When he touches your bump and feels a kick, he is so happy that his head is glued to your bump so he can feel it.

Buys your cravings whenever and whatever it is. It could be late at night and you’re asking him to get you your egregious food combo. He doesn’t understand your cravings but will not complain to you until it’s a straight up abomination. THEN, he just cooks you anything you want because he’s lowkey scared about your cravings affecting your health.

Daily/Hourly reminders of how beautiful and gorgeous you are. Body worshiping and praising, especially since you are carrying his child. The amount of reassurance and sincerity that comes from his words makes you cry a lot, and it’s not because of your hormones. He’s so sweet and loving with his words towards you, it makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Goes to every appointment with you and never fucking misses one. Actually, he is the one to remind you about them. Has this soft look in his eyes as he looks at the ultrasound seeing your baby. Asks for at least two copies so he can frame one of them and hang it somewhere in the house.

Doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl, as long it’s half of you that’s all that matters.

You always tell him your love and appreciation for all that he has done for you and the baby since he has a tendency to push himself a lot more than he has to. A kiss and a hug will do the trick because he goes all soft for you every time. It’s amusing to you how your huge, seemingly intimidating, husband can become a warm melted putty at the snap of your fingers. But then again, you have him wrapped around your finger completely.

Grows more cautious and protected once you go on maternity leave in your final months of the final trimester. Constantly asking how you are feeling that day or hour, grabs everything within arms reach if there is anything you need or could get you, if you need help with everything in general. It’s not the point of overbearing or suffocating, it gets a bit annoying but you know Toji means well. You assume he’s concerned and worried for you and the baby because he is afraid you will have complications during the birth. It’s terrifying to him to know there’s a slight chance you could die while giving birth to your baby and he couldn’t do anything to help you.

So when you DO go into labor, man’s is a bit scared but also prepared with your bag ready in hand. Drives you to the hospital, checks you in, and makes you feel comfortable while giving birth.

Is holding your hand during the whole thing while wiping away the sweat off your forehead and face.

Says encouraging and calming words to keep you focused and at ease. Guides you through deep breaths and keeps you grounded:

“Take a deep breath for me, Honey.”

“You’re doing so good, Mama. So amazing.”

“I’m here with you, Sweet Girl. Keep squeezing my hand. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt. Hold onto me, (Y/N).”

Sheds a few tears when your daughter comes out and starts crying. Kisses your cheek and forehead while praising you for doing a phenomenal job.

Cuts the cord while you’re coming down from your intense birthing process.

Lets you sleep and relax while he cuddles and holds your daughter with his shirt off for skinship.

Once you wake up, he buys you any food you want since you’re not pregnant anymore. Spoon feeds you while saying you did a wonderful job and asking how you feel.

Once you hold your daughter, he’s over the moon. You look so perfect and ethereal the man thanks the gods for blessing him with you as his wife and your daughter, the proof of your love.

Lets you name her since she is a girl and the first-born. You name her Tsumiki because it’s a cute name for a pretty girl. She gets most of her traits from you besides her hair texture. Toji comments that a pretty girl deserves a pretty name because she was birthed by an elegant and demure woman. You chuckle at him and his sappiness but it brings you a certain type of happiness that Toji was expressing this side of himself more comfortably.

Once discharged, gets the car to bring you and your daughter to your new home where she’ll and her sibling(s) grow up.

Lets you have your bonding time with Tsumiki while you’re on your six months maternity leave. He lives to see you hold and carry your daughter around the house.

Takes care of everything in the house and helps you out during your postpartum. Reminds you of your beauty, that he still loves you and your body, how grateful he is for everything you’ve done for giving him this life.

Gets the hang of parenting faster than you did. Toji already knows how to burp, change, feed, and bathe your daughter.

Lets you sleep and rest more when Tsumiki cries at night by getting up to calm her down himself. Ends up sleeping in the rocking chair with her on his chest.

Tries to play and entertain her as much as he can. Toji is more of a stuffed animal guy than dolls because they’re more inclusive and genderless. But he will buy dolls for Tsumiki when she asks for them once she's old enough.

Tears up when she takes her first steps as she tries to walk towards both of you.

Her first words were Papa for sure but then Mama two weeks later.

Tsumiki is a fairly calm and happy baby. Moves around but isn’t super hyper and energetic. Very smiley and giggly baby that brights up the room she’s in. Always puts you and Toji in a good mood.

Toji is the type of guy to wait for you to give him the green light for another child. Even though the doctor says you’ve made a good recovery, he ain’t pouncing on you until you tell him so. Your doctor asked if she needed to write a note that you weren’t ready for another baby for some time but you told her you’ll be fine because Toji isn’t THAT TYPE OF GUY. On top of respecting you and your body, Toji highkey wants to have age gaps with your children. Like at least a year and a half or so they can be close in age and grow up together, but also give time for you and him to adjust to being first-time parents.

It was after Tsumiki’s first birthday that you said you wouldn’t mind having another kid. Then Toji and you tried for another kid. Happened fast per usual with minimal effort once again. Toji’s goo is pretty strong lol.

He was there with you when you took the pregnancy test and it had the fable two lines. Hugs you close and is excited to give Tsumiki another sibling.

Unfortunately, your second pregnancy wasn’t as forgiving as your first. In fact, your second child was pretty brutal on you. You were more sensitive to everything and your symptoms multiplied by three. It was a struggle but you managed to pull through but barely.

Hurts Toji a lot because you’re in a lot of discomfort compared to being pregnant with Tsumiki. Steps up tenfold to help out and make things better for you.

Tsumiki just plays on the floor in her pen as you watch her while dealing with her younger sibling and Toji's making food in the background.

When you both found out it was a boy after a couple of months, you told Toji he can name the baby this time since you did with your first-born. It threw you off a bit when he said Megumi, a name that means blessing. You talked about names before but this was a new one both of you haven’t brought up yet. Perhaps it was a name Toji wanted but forgot to mention

Man, Megumi was a hard pregnancy. He was an energetic one in your womb. Always makes you lose sleep, loss of appetite, or straight up moody. Toji always talked to Megumi, lowkey begging him to be more gentle on you and not be so rough.

Once Megumi was born, you knew that’s Toji kid because he barely took anything from you. The nose, the eyes, the hair, even his small pout, it was all Toji. Toji was crying once again that your son is born but he takes after his old man. Tsumiki was just happy to see the little baby that is her younger brother.

After Megumi, you and Toji decide that this is ENOUGH children for now. Especially since you have two children under the age of three.

Megumi, however, was an interesting baby. Tsumiki likes being held by both you and Toji, she never picked favorites. Megumi, on the other hand, was attached to you like glue. Technically, all babies are but Megumi never liked being away from you. Megumi was very clingy when it came to you, his mama. You have to hold him or be in his line of sight if you’re not.

Megumi is a certified mama’s boy. He’s all sweet to you, with his gummy smile and bright big eyes as he laughs when you hold.

His first and only words were Mama for a while until he said Papa.

Megumi becomes fussy and cranky if you’re not in the room. He wants you there when he wakes up, to feed him, change him, bathe him, everything. If Toji has to do it, it will take double the time because Megumi is all uncooperative and resistant to his father’s attempts to care for him. It helps if you’re in the room or nearby then Megumi will behave but if that's because he knows you’re there.

Baby Megumi glares at Toji over your shoulder when you’re making his and Tsumiki’s food. Toji glares at his son's back. As he gets older and can walk, Megumi always runs towards you. Place himself on the couch, floor, chair, any surface he can sit on so he is seated next to you. One time, Toji’s head was in your lap as you watched the news in front of you. Megumi was mad because he was supposed to sit next to you. But Toji was faster than him and sat himself where he’s currently positioned. Tsumiki was in front of the couch playing with her stuffed animals on the floor. Megumi decided to grab his doggy plushie and started hitting Toji’s face with it. Toji yelped while you grabbed Megumi and placed him in your lap. Megumi holds onto you while you and your husband exchange shocked looks.

Megumi purposefully and accidentally cock blocks Toji. It’s explained more in this headcanon here.

It’s exhausting to take care of Megumi because he always wants you and never Toji. It kind of sucks because you want Megumi to bond with Toji more as you also don’t want to neglect Tsumiki as well.

Both of you take turns caring for your two kids. It’s so cute to see Megumi bonding with Toji as Megumi smiles a bit more when he’s with his dad. Tsumiki just likes hugging you and so you hold her ever so dearly.

Tsumiki and Megumi never really fight, which you find odd since it’s common for siblings to fight with each other. That’s when you keep observing and notice Tsumiki will let Megumi have his way even though she didn’t have to. Though you appreciate her being an older sibling, you have to remind her she can say no to Megumi if she doesn’t want to. Also reminding her to tell you or Toji if anything happens and not feel scared or ashamed for asking for help.

But Tsumiki is such a sweet child, she says she doesn’t mind at all when it comes to Megumi. But you brought it up to Toji because you don’t want Megumi to become very spoiled nor do you want Tsumiki to feel it’s okay to disregard her needs. Toji understands your concerns and tries to reassure you that he won’t let that happen as they get older.

While you were away from work, Megumi snatched Tsumiki’s pillow pet dolphin from her hands and Toji saw all of it. Toji put Megumi in time-out while he comforted Tsumiki. She wasn’t crying but he could tell she would have if he didn’t step in. Toji refrains from yelling and acting out because you told him that’ll strain his relationship with the kids. It’s easier and effective but it has long-term effects that negatively affect the parent-child relationship and the child themselves, something you knew all too well. So Toji is patient with Megumi, telling him it’s not nice to take things that aren’t his, especially when it’s his older sister’s stuff. That he should understand that Tsumiki doesn’t like it when he does and only lets him have them so he wouldn’t get upset. Toji makes Megumi apologize to Tsumiki but Tsumiki already forgave Megumi.

Toji being patient with his kids is hard and always tests him as a parent. Then he remembers how you told him having a family with him isn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world. But children deserve parents who will love and care for them unconditionally, who will be patient and understanding no matter what, to not make them wish they were someone else in order to please their parents. You didn’t want your children to experience what you did growing up and you believe Toji is someone who will help you make that dream come true. So he continues with his gentle/patient parenting method because he knows it will pay off in the end.

Since you’re going to work most of the day, he’s always the one to take care of them. Toji always takes them to the park or outside so they can run around and be kids. Forces them to go with him to run errands so they can get used to it. Megumi hates this while Tsumiki loves it. After some time, they get used to it and ask Toji to take them on the errand runs. Like going to the local butcher for meat then to the supermarket for everything else. Toji makes this a learning experience for the two by teaching them how to pick and order what they want. He teaches them what each ingredient is and explains why he buys it. Because of this, Megumi and Tsumiki know how to do errands by themselves and get things on the way home from school if Toji texts them to get something.

Megumi doesn’t admit it but he always follows Tsumiki’s lead. Especially when they start going to the same school together. When Tsumiki gets a fever/cold and can’t go to school, Megumi is a little nervous because he’s going by himself. So Toji had to comfort Megumi that he will be okay and Tsumiki will be proud of him for being able to go by himself.

Tsumiki is a quiet extrovert but Megumi is a raging introvert. Megumi, due to his aloof nature, doesn’t have many friends. You became worried because maybe there was something you weren’t noticing with Megumi. So you went to get Megumi checked out and the doctor ruled it out due to his personality and high intelligence. The doctor says it’s common for some children to prefer their own personal space rather than making friends. Though it does encourage you to have Megumi expose himself to kids around his age so he’s not socially distant.

This is where you and Toji butted heads for a bit. You don’t want to force Megumi into something that he doesn’t want. But Toji wants Megumi to interact with other kids that’s not Tsumiki so he can make friends. Megumi just doesn’t like people who are not his family. That’s the conclusion you both draw in the end.

Jungle gym Toji. Ever since they could crawl, Megumi and Tsumiki have been climbing on Toji like a rock wall. They hang off his arms, hold onto neck, climb onto his back, they’re all over him. Well, Toji is built like a mountain so it feels like they’re climbing Mt. Fuji. Toji isn’t bothered by this at all. In fact, he likes it when his kids are playing with him.

When Toji works out, whether it’s outside in the courtyard or in the workout room, he has the kids nearby playing somewhere. Would definitely ask Megumi and Tsumiki to sit on his back while he does push ups.

Hides his old weapons in the shed outside the house, he makes the excuse it’s for gardening tools and snow shovels so the kids aren’t curious.

Doesn’t do baby/kiddie talk to his kids. Obviously he’s gentle when he speaks to his kids but he also isn’t going to dumb things down for them. He’ll speak to them like a regular person but has a soft tenderness for children. It’s actually pretty sweet to see it.

The type of man to say to his children, “Isn’t Mama pretty? She is pretty, right?” Saying positive things about you to Megumi and Tsumiki. Then the two will say those lovely words back. You do this with Toji too. Telling the kids “Papa’s strong, right? He’s so cool.” “Papa made us this lovely dinner. Isn’t Papa amazing, you two?” Shit it so cute, I swear.

Speaking of food, Toji makes their lunches. From preschool to high school, he makes Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches. It’s a challenge as they get older because both have different food preferences but he takes up on it. Just like with your lunch, everyone is in awe and jealous of their food. It’s always something good every time and it always smells good. Yuuji and Nobara ask Megumi if his dad could make them one and the next day Megumi brings two extra bentos for the both of them. Courtesy from Toji himself.

The type of man to make the kids their character bentos and eat the scraps/leftovers. Like the picture where the kid has a cute breakfast while the parent eats the cut out bread and fruit left over.

Family nap time! This is quite common in the Fushiguro household. You come home from work, sometimes earlier than scheduled, to see them laid out on the floor with a blanket underneath them. Sometimes, if the weather is enjoyable, they would nap outside. Toji is holding both kids in his burly arms while Tsumiki and Megumi hold each other’s hands. It’s so adorable that you have multiple pictures saved in an album in the house. You would join them as well. A family napping pile.

Speaking of which, you have many albums from over the years as a family. Up until the present day, you have so many pictures of your children and your husband having their little family moments. Some wholesome, some embarrassing, others are cool photos or stolen shots. I don’t know if this fits Toji but I’m projecting here: he’ll have photos of your family throughout the years on the walls and tables of your home. But mainly, the ones he loves the most are the portraits of the family. They’re five of them. The first one is of you and Toji, the second one is you two with baby Tsumiki, the third is you holding baby Megumi as Tsumiki is standing with Toji, the fourth is the four of you with the kids who are six and seven, then the fifth one is taken from present day where the kids are teenagers while you and Toji haven’t aged at all. All of them have you wearing formal wear/Kimonos. He gets these personally commissioned and they’re 17 inches(43.18 cm) by 14 inches(35.56 cm), which is fairly large.

Since you work 6 hours of the day, Toji always takes the kids to and from school. It’s not a problem for him nor the kids as they know you are working and making mula for them. The problem is, a lot of parents believe he’s a single dad. More so, the moms of the other students. Toji wears his wedding band on his LEFT FINGER that’s SHINING when the sun hits it and people still couldn’t take a hint. As he picks up the kiddos, a lot of moms go up to talk to him to pass time. He knows most of them are trying to flirt with him, very few only genuinely talk to him. Toji doesn’t play games when it comes to his status and is very blunt if the woman can’t get the message.

“I have a wife.”

“I’m married.”

“The love of my life and the mother of my children is working right now.”

Bro, some of these moms are jumping hurdles just to get a chance with Toji. Toji would keep on flashing his wedding band and they are fucking delusional to think they still got a shot. Someone thought he was a widower even though you were ALIVE AND WELL. Toji felt his eyes twitch as he scowled at the accusation. Toji legit wanted to push her but can’t because he’s a big guy and all. ‘Fuck, I can’t put my hands on a woman. I’ll have (Y/N) do it instead.’ Toji tells you about this and he is more mad than you are about it, which you don’t blame him for. On Friday afternoon, school’s out and the parents are picking up the kids. Tsumiki waits for Megumi outside his classroom door as they always walk out together to get picked up by Toji. As they walked out, they were surprised to see you with Toji in your work clothes. They went into a full on sprint in your direction and you crouched down to hug them both. After giving each other a good squeeze, they hugged Toji. The look on the woman’s face when she saw you was priceless. Tsumiki was hugging Toji while Megumi was reaching for you and you took him in your arms. You turn around and feign a friendly smile her way with such an elegant but dominant introduction.

“Oh hi! I’m (Y/N). You never saw me here since I work as a (occupation). Toji takes care of the kids when I’m away working. But I come every now and then when I get off early. Thanks for keeping my husband company! Though, you shouldn’t press on a married man when he refuses your advances. I mean, it’s not like his wife and the mother of his children has resources when most of the population doesn't. So, try to refrain yourself from stepping into the deep end, Dear. It was nice knowing you!”

Toji thought that was hot af. Tsumiki was hugging Toji’s neck because she was tired while Megumi glared at the woman. After that, no woman ever approached Toji after that.

FAMILY OUTINGS!!! Ugh, you always have one every weekend with your family. The favorites are the zoo and the park. Megumi on Toji’s shoulders while Tsumiki holds both you and Toji’s hands, she swings in-between the two of you. You go to all the exhibits your children want to go to. Tsumiki likes the marine enclosures while Megumi prefers more of the forest and savanna ones. You never could forget the way your son slightly bounces on his dad’s shoulders when he sees an elephant. He lets out a gasp of awe while calling out to you, “Mama mama, look! Look at the elephant!” “I can see it, Baby. You like elephants, Gumi?” “Yeah!” “What about you, Tsumiki-dear?” “I think they’re cool, Mama.” Toji tries to feed the animals but the animals are so scared of him like he is the most dangerous one which is true. This also goes for festivals as well, wandering the stalls and food stands. Toji winning every game you stop by and getting prizes his kids want, if his kids want it he’ll get it. The whole day is fun but exhausting once you come home. Toji carries the kids home along with the family bag. The kids are knocked out and easy to tuck in as you and Toji decompress.

As the kids get older and mature, it’s easier to go places like Kyoto. Megumi and Tsumiki are more of exploring and sight-seeing individuals, which makes it easy on you and Toji so you don’t have to spend a lot of money to do those extravagant things. They just want to experience the surroundings and life without sticking out too much. They like the trips when you all stay at a Ryokan Onsen, it’s relaxing. Especially for Megumi since he’s away from Gojo, Itadori, and Kugisaki. He loves his teacher and classmates but they can be a handful to deal with. Once they get older, they have school and you and Megumi have missions so these family outings happen less. But if everyone’s home, you four go out and do whatever depending on the weather. Spring and early summer are good times of the year because the cherry blossoms are in bloom and the weather is pleasant. You usually go out and have a picnic when the trees are blossoming. It’s simple but sweet to get together so your kids will have some memories they can look back on fondly.

There is this scenario that I can’t stop thinking about but it’s Toji coded: After a day of family bonding, Toji is standing in the train while you and your kids are sitting. It was full but not crowded. During one of the stops, Tsumiki ends up giving her seat to a pregnant woman who’s around her late stages of the 2nd trimester. Toji pets her head as she stands next to him, holding onto his pants as you send a sweet approving smile her way. She sends one back as she grips onto Toji to steady herself. Megumi is in our lap, completely gone into the world of dream as he clutches closer to you. The stop before the one you all get off, Tsumiki helps the pregnant lady up and walk her towards the door. The lovely lady thanks her, gives her a piece of paper to her family bakery which your family become regulars later on, before waving at her and you two. Mouthing ‘You have a wonderful daughter.' You and Toji glance at each other and smile. As your stop approaches, Tsumiki asks Toji if she can carry Megumi. He asks why and she replies, “Because Mama’s tired and I can carry Megumi for her.” Toji glances down at you and see the droopiness as they flutter to keep themselves open. He crouches down, pets Tsumiki on the head, saying she is a kind and sweet kid but he will take care of it. He asks her to give him your bag while he exchanges it for his jacket. Tsumiki places his jacket around you and Toji tells her to get into your lap. She does and you wrap your free arm around her. The next thing she knows, he’s carrying you in both of his arms while you hold your children. Once the train doors open, the incoming passengers are met with a towering man holding his sleeping wife and kids in his arms. They part to make way for him and he WALKS the whole way home. His arms never tired or aching. Tsumiki smiles up at him and comments how cool and strong he is, “You’re always strong and cool, Papa.” He just chuckles in his whole deep, simp-worthy, DILF voice before crouching down to let her stand since she grabbed the house keys. She unlocks the door and holds it open for him. They take off their shoes as Toji places you and Megumi on the couch while Tsumiki gets her Sanrio blanket to place it over you and her brother. You wake up an hour later to Toji cooking dinner as Tsumiki uses her color pencils on her coloring book. You wake up Megumi and have dinner together as a family.

Has no problem carrying you and his children in his arms. Like he can carry a 8 year old Tsumiki and a 7 year old Megumi like it’s nothing. He can carry you, Tsumiki and Megumi around without getting tired. You do the trend where Toji is holding you, Megumi and Tsumiki as kids then you retake the same picture but when the two are in their late teens. The point of those pictures were meant to show Toji is still strong; if not, stronger after becoming a father. If the kids fall asleep on the couch while watching a movie, he’s carrying them to their beds. They did their homework late at night on the kitchen table and are too tired to go to their rooms, he will take them to their beds no problem. You fell asleep on the couch because you came home extremely late from work or a mission. Toji is getting you to bed with him using his oversized shirt as your PJs. When Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara are out cold from their sleepover, Toji covers them with a huge blanket and gives them each a pillow.

I discuss this a little bit in this but I’ll expand upon it here. Megumi and Tsumiki are way less traumatized. Megumi has sass and is aloof but that’s his personality. The reality is, Megumi isn’t as withdrawn or quick to make assumptions about people. He seems reserved but his walls aren’t thick or tall. He’s not going to summon Mahoraga in every death situation but just sometimes uses it as a last resort because he hasn't pushed himself to his limits. It’s more of the lack of knowledge behind his technique since you and Toji can only know so much. Plus you and Toji, specifically Toji, aren’t letting the Zen’in clan be near your children. Tsumiki also isn’t inclined to act more mature and take on adult responsibilities. She is allowed to be a kid and have a childhood, same goes with Megumi. Plus, the two are raised in a loving household. Is it a traditional one? Nope, not in the slightest. Their mom works while their dad stays at home. But it's a functional, healthy, content family. You and Toji have tried to set good examples for your children on love, relationships, and the process of communicating. There are some pitfalls every now and then. Yet Megumi and Tsumiki have seen honesty, patiences, and openness when you and Toji talk things out.

Plus they know the rule you and Toji have: never fight in front of the kids. Matters between you and your husbands are between you two only. You never wanted to drag your children into the argument themselves. Obviously, when they are younger, you have to explain to them that you and Toji weren’t on the same page and are mad at each other. As they get older, you explain what the argument/conversation was about transparently. Megumi and Tsumiki also notice how after you and Toji clear up things the both of you never made snide remarks about each other in the slightest. This helps the kids out a lot because they never felt like walking on eggshells. That’s why Tsumiki and Megumi never really worried about you and Toji splitting over bad blood. They know you and Toji aren’t going to stay stubborn for long and make up no matter the circumstances. But there was an argument that both of them never can forget. They didn’t witness it themselves but they knew it was the worst argument you both had, and this happened when Tsumiki and Megumi were TEENAGERS. It lasted for a WHOLE DAY, the longest you two have been in the waters of the aftermath. The two of them wanted to say something but they knew better when you and Toji told them to not involve your affairs. It was worrying them to the point Megumi asked Tsumiki if this would create a rift. However, being the older sister she is, says the both of you will work through it. And she was right when the two of them came home to see you and Toji on the engawa wrapped up in each other’s arms with a blanket over you both.

Tsumiki loves the flowers and plants in your garden beyond the courtyard. When you take her outside and show her the pretty flowers and plants, she has this sparkle in her eyes as you touch and hold the flowers up to her. As she gets older, she spends most of her time in the garden as you are sitting under the tree with your blanket keeping the dirt away from you. When you mentioned to Toji the garden would look better if there were more plant diversity, the man is handing you a list of your favorite plants and flowers you want. The next few days to weeks, the plants you wanted are already in your garden and blending in well with your home. He is also doing this legally, and doesn't want to be a bio-terrorist by accident.

Toji does this with Tsumiki too. She had this book about flowers from her school’s library and told him that those flowers were pretty and nice. She kept drawing them, saying they would look good in the garden. The next week, there was a bush of them in her favorite spot. Your garden becomes the Garden of Eden with the amount of plant life you and Tsumiki bring in. You do basic gardening but Tsumiki and Toji have the green thumbs in the family. They’re the ones doing maintenance on the garden. Mostly Toji since Tsumiki goes to school and isn’t always home.

Toji does all the planting, replotting, mulching, everything a garden needs. The type to cut the hedges into a perfect shape because it fills his ego and makes him productive. Like one time, Megumi brings over Yuuji and Nobara to hangout and they see Toji cutting the hedges into a cool dragon. Toji wipes the sweat off his forehead to see the fruits of his labor, smirking to himself saying, “I’m so fucking good at this. I’m literally the best.”

Megumi lets his Shikigami out into the garden because they like to hang out outside. The only ones allowed in the house are his divine dogs because Toji doesn't want to see a huge owl or elephant in the living room.

Come to think of it, you and Tsumiki are the main ones who decide what goes in and out of the house. The flowers and the garden were just an example. Furniture, appliances, the color of the blinds and curtains, the interior and exterior, hell everything at this point. If you and Tsumiki made a comment about the appearance of something and it started with the words if, what, wonder, he’s already pulling the catalog for ideas. It’s mostly curiosity but if both you and Tsumiki bring it up, he’s changing it to your liking. Megumi never understands this because he’s the “it is what it is” or “I’m fine with it.” Megumi would be visiting home from school and sees Toji rearranging some of the furniture or building something from scratch in the backyard and he doesn’t question it.

Speaking of which, besides the appliances/photos/silverware/complicated items, almost everything in the house is made by him or customized by him. Tsumiki and Megumi’s rooms? Toji made them into their liking. The main bedroom? All Toji’s work. Not one spot in this house hasn’t been adjusted or changed by Toji. That’s why you credited your house to being the perfect home, all because of Toji. You always remind him that his work is much appreciated around this house. He’ll just smirk but you can see the way his ears fade into a pink rose color. He loves it when you say stuff like that to him. IF the kids say it to him, his grin is stuck on his face for a whole 24 hours.

THE HANGOUT HOUSE! You know how there’s always that one friend where almost every hangout occurs at their home? That’s Megumi, it’s literally him. Technically since Yuuji permanently lives in the dorms and Kugisaki used to live in the countryside, Megumi is the only person in the trio to have an official home. They pass by it a lot when they go exploring or hanging out. Megumi never said anything but the two notice how he stares at it for some time. Then some shenanigans happen and they had to take cover in Megumi’s home. Mind you, Yuuji and Nobara were looking at Megumi like he committed a war crime when he b-lined to the house. And they know it’s a nice house. They were yelling at Megumi saying they were trespassing and they’ll be in some deep shit if they get caught. But Megumi yells at them to trust him as he opens one of the doors. Then Yuuji and Nobara start begging him to not get them killed because they finally see that the home is a literal MANSION. They think they’re cooked by whomever lives here. But from Megumi’s reaction, they’re wondering if Megumi knows the person that lives here. Then when they go inside the actual home, they slide off their shoes and walk to what’s the common area of the house(kitchen/living room). Then Yuuji notices one of the photos and sees kid Megumi and three other people. Nobara shoves herself to see it and they both turn around to Megumi grabbing a pitcher of some sort of drink out of the fridge. “YOU LIVE HERE, FUSHIGURO!?!?” “Oi, not so loud! My sister isn’t home yet but my parents are so quiet.” They don’t meet Toji here but later on because he was doing something with Shui. But you pop in and the students instantly recognize you. You force Megumi to show them around the house and they are in absolute awe. The moment they see his cool ass room, this house is their default hangout spot.

Sleepovers happen often, Megumi doesn’t want them to but you insist since he could just use one of the bigger guest bedrooms or his own room if he wanted. They stay up watching movies, shows, or watching youtube videos or documentaries just because. They do the laughing challenge to see if Megumi actually laughs. He does but fewer far in between.

Toji embarrasses the hell out of Megumi. You don’t purposefully but by accident. Yuuji and Nobara would see Toji going into the kitchen to get a glass of water, see the color drain from Megumi’s face, then ask Toji about anything relating to Megumi. Then Toji spills the TEA on Megumi, it’s so funny. If Megumi won’t spill then his dad definitely would. Megumi’s face becomes like a tomato when anything about him comes out of his dad’s mouth.

Your house is stocked up on everything. There’s nothing in this house you wouldn’t have. Nobara needed some period products and you literally gave her a basket full of them. If she needs something else, you run to the store to get it for her. Yuuji forgot his toothpaste? You gave him a new tube and another one for his dorm. You tell them to ask you or Toji for anything if they need it. Nobara and Yuuji ask you to adopt them.

After a certain point, they just come over and ask for you instead of Megumi. He gets so annoyed and mad at them for it.

But you always insist on sleepover because Megumi finally has friends that he can call his own. It makes you happy he surrounds himself with good people and Toji agrees.

They know Megumi is balling in money which he always denies. But Yuuji brings up that Megumi has a Gameboy, Gameboy color, a DS lite, 3DS XL, a Switch OLED in his room. They’re all blue with every Pokémon game to have ever been released. He’s not beating the rich allegations.

Megumi is so irritated with Toji, it’s absolutely hilarious. I said it before and I’ll say it again: once Megumi is high school age, he’s an angsty teenager. Dude just gets so annoyed at his dad for existing, he only imagines it’s just you, him, and Tsumiki only. Toji asks him to do something, will do it but will grumble under his breath about it. But if you or Tsumiki ask him to do something, he has no attitude. Megumi is more softer with his sister and you but his dad? Nah, if he inherits everything from his dad, he’ll use them to his disposal against his Pops. He and Toji butt heads a lot but it’s never serious. Tsumiki sometimes wants to stop it but you tell her it’s a father son bonding thing.

Megumi inherited Toji’s grumpiness. Actually Megumi inherited a lot of things from Toji but he doesn’t want to admit it. Physically, Megumi is a mini version of Toji. Personality-wise, fairly similar. It’s just his hair curls up a bit but you believe it’s a recessive gene from a distant relative that decided to come out in a rare time.

Never tell Megumi he looks and acts like his dad. It will temporarily ruin his mood for like an hour or so. He legit got so mad. Put a side by side picture of the two and show it to him and he’ll walk away. If he’s compared to his mom? The saintess who does no wrong? Hell yeah he’ll take up the compliment. But his old man? He has his own personal beef with that. It’s when you or Tsumiki tell him he’s like Toji because you’re his family and know his antics better than anyone. But if it was someone like Gojo-sensei? He’s throwing a roast back. “Man, Megumi-kun. You’re just like old man Toji, grumpy and full of attitude.” “And that’s the same old man who was able to beat you and lived. I don’t wanna hear anything from you, Gojo-sensei.” Gojo cried to you about why your son was so mean to him while Suguru was absolutely done with him.

Tsumiki took a picture of Megumi when his hair was still damp from a shower, he looked so much like Toji. She showed you the picture and you asked her to send it to you. She shows Toji and Toji smirks to himself, knowing he’ll dangle that over Megumi’s head for as long as he lives. Toji gets his and Megumi’s side by side comparison framed in the house lol.

Sometimes Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko babysit younger Megumi and Tsumiki when you and Toji are busy. Tsumiki loves them, tolerating Satoru at best. But Megumi is irked by Satoru’s presence and only hangs out with Shoko and Suguru. Hates Gojo’s constant teasing but from pure annoyance. He and Tsumiki grow up with them and that’s why both of them know the three long before anyone else did.

Megumi gets irritated during Middle and High School because his parents are HOT. He remembers when his classmates from middle school would ask who’s the woman waving at him/man that grins his directions. Megumi grimaces and says “That’s my mom/dad.” Then his peers would start gushing about how gorgeous and demure you are/handsome and attractive Toji is. He wants them to shut up about it. If it’s only one of you, some of his peers would say, “Can your mom/dad fight?” Megumi wanted to punch them so badly, but refrains himself because he doesn’t want to waste his punches on a rando. It doesn’t help when he goes to the same school as Tsumiki, it’s the same THING. He knows people gush about him but he could care less. It just irritates him to no end when others do it on his family members. So when both you and Toji show up to school to take Megumi and Tsumiki out, everyone is just looking at Megumi and his attractive family. They can see where he got his genes from. His gene pool was created by divinity itself. His mom’s attractive, his dad’s attractive, his sister’s attractive, then they look at Megumi and see that he’s attractive. It gets worse with Yuuji and Nobara. They make remarks about it every time, how show stopping your looks are, his dad had people of all sexualities swooning, and his sister made people have hearts in their eyes.

Nobara: “That’s not fair! Fushiguro gets his amazing looks and genes from the two most heavenly beautiful people in the world and he’s not using them! God has favorites for sure.”

Yuuji: “But Fushiguro-kun is using his good-looks though, Kugisaki! He’s just the more silent, mysterious, aloof type of guy that every secretly wants, you'know?”

Megumi: “Can you two just shut it right now!? Stop talking about my parents or appearance! Focus on the damn mission!”

Family dinners are silent but content. Everyone always eats together whenever possible since Toji’s done cooking dinner at 6:30pm. There’s some talking here and there but everyone is more focused on enjoying the meal Toji cooks for them. The kids clean up after themselves and usually fill the sink with hot water to place their dirty dishes inside. They prefer to eat their dad’s cooking any day. Yuuji and Nobara come over to have dinner every now and then. That’s when it’s more lively since they’re always gushing about Toji’s food.

Your children are so protective of you because of their father. Toji tells them there are some people out there that won’t respect you and tells Megumi and Tsumiki it’s their job to tell him if anyone bothered them or you. They mostly tell him about the amount of men who try to hit on you even though you said you’re already married to Toji, flashing your wedding ring, when you pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school. Toji shows up with you, sizing up every male in the vicinity while puffing his chest. You roll your eyes but silently admit it was hot. It doesn’t change when they get older, they just hide it better. You could be in the grocery store in the produce section and some guy is hitting on you. You don’t have your wedding ring on because your fingers were sore and it hurt to wear jewelry on your hand. But you wore it on in a necklace. The guy wasn’t taking no for an answer until he saw two people behind you, staring down this man. It’s your son and husband. Then your daughter pops up and steals you away to look at a sale of some fruits she wanted. Leaving the poor man in the wrath of Megumi and Toji. They only put their hands on someone if they harass you or down right disrespect in any form. Mostly they’ll give a talk to the individual that’s not so courtesy of you. The best thing about this whole thing? The teens and Toji saw it all happen and made it into a whole operation. Tsumiki was in on it too, bruh. The men collectively agree to stare down any person that looked at you funny. Tsumiki isn’t so serious but she’s more subtle with her warnings and hints. You remembered when Toji was talking to Megumi about dealing with these situations. “Megumi, when you bring your dogs out, I need you to have them bite the guy in the balls if they try something with your mother or snatch their bag if they’re a woman.” “TOJI!” “I was thinking about the same thing, Dad.” “MEGUMI (L/N) FUSHIGURO! PLEASE! I can’t with you two!”

Those family talks. Like when Megumi opens up to you or Toji about something, it could be anything but it’s mostly personal things. You know it’s serious when it’s just him sitting at the kitchen table while you and Toji are doing something in the kitchen. Hitting you with the “Can I ask you two something?” Then you and Toji give Megumi your undivided attention to let him know you’re listening and paying attention. These happen with Tsumiki too but she’s already an open book and isn’t as reserved as Megumi. You both give your commentary and advice when asked, sometimes you let Megumi rant or let out his bottled up feelings. Surprisingly, unsurprisingly, Toji gives out insightful advice that Megumi takes into account every time his dad speaks. This is also how you become closer to your son and daughter, even your own husband.

They are allowed to swear in the house but Toji’s rule is “You can swear but it can’t be towards someone.” But the kids didn’t swear until they were in junior high.

The house doesn’t have much talking but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s the kind where everyone is enjoying each other’s presence with no need for talking. It’s functional in your household, so it works with your family.

Don’t remind Toji that Megumi and Tsumiki will eventually move out and have their own lives because Toji will get all soft and emotional about it.

Toji and you are living the dream life. A nice house and property. A loving family with two wonderful children to ever bless you and your husband. And a healthy life where your family is close. Toji never thought he could’ve had this life but he now he does. This is the greatest middle finger and ‘fuck you’ to the Zen'in clan.

808 notes · View notes

nasa · 6 months

Text

What’s It Like to Work in NASA’s Mission Control Center?

In the latest installment of our First Woman graphic novel series, we see Commander Callie Rodriguez embark on the next phase of her trailblazing journey, as she leaves the Moon to take the helm at Mission Control.

Flight directors work in Mission Control to oversee operations of the International Space Station and Artemis missions to the Moon. They have a unique, overarching perspective focused on integration between all the systems that make a mission a success – flight directors have to learn a little about a lot.

Diane Dailey and Chloe Mehring were selected as flight directors in 2021. They’ll be taking your questions about what it’s like to lead teams of flight controllers, engineers, and countless professionals, both agencywide and internationally, in an Answer Time session on Nov. 28, 2023, from noon to 1 p.m. EST (9-10 a.m. PST) here on our Tumblr!

Like Callie, how did their unique backgrounds and previous experience, prepare them for this role? What are they excited about as we return to the Moon?

🚨 Ask your questions now by visiting https://nasa.tumblr.com/ask.

Diane Dailey started her career at NASA in 2006 in the space station Environmental Control and Life Support Systems (ECLSS) group. As an ECLSS flight controller, she logged more than 1,700 hours of console time, supported 10 space shuttle missions, and led the ECLSS team. She transitioned to the Integration and System Engineering (ISE) group, where she was the lead flight controller for the 10th and 21st Commercial Resupply Services missions for SpaceX. In addition, she was the ISE lead for NASA’s SpaceX Demo-1 and Demo-2 crew spacecraft test flights. Dailey was also a capsule communicator (Capcom) controller and instructor.

She was selected as a flight director in 2021 and chose her call sign of “Horizon Flight” during her first shift in November of that year. She has since served as the Lead Flight director for the ISS Expedition 68, led the development of a contingency spacewalk, and led a spacewalk in June to install a new solar array on the space station. She is currently working on development of the upcoming Artemis II mission and the Human Lander Systems which will return humanity to the moon. Dailey was raised in Lubbock, Texas, and graduated from Texas A&M University in College Station with a bachelor’s degree in biomedical engineering. She is married and a mother of two. She enjoys cooking, traveling, and spending time outdoors.

Chloe Mehring started her NASA career in 2008 in the Flight Operations’ propulsion systems group and supported 11 space shuttle missions. She served as propulsion support officer for Exploration Flight Test-1, the first test flight of the Orion spacecraft that will be used for Artemis missions to the Moon. Mehring was also a lead NASA propulsion officer for SpaceX’s Crew Dragon spacecraft and served as backup lead for the Boeing Starliner spacecraft. She was accepted into the 2021 Flight Director class and worked her first shift in February 2022, taking on the call sign “Lion Flight”. Since becoming certified, she has worked over 100 shifts, lead the NG-17 cargo resupply mission team, and executed two United States spacewalks within 10 days of each other. She became certified as a Boeing Starliner Flight Director, sat console for the unmanned test flight in May 2022 (OFT-2) and will be leading the undock team for the first crewed mission on Starliner in the spring of next year. She originally is from Mifflinville, Pennsylvania, and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in aerospace engineering from The Pennsylvania State University in State College. She is a wife, a mom to one boy, and she enjoys fitness, cooking and gardening.

#answertime #NASA #flight director #First Woman #astronaut #Artemis #Orion #graphic novels #comics #spaceblr #women in STEM #STEM #NASA women #CallieFirst

2K notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself to Hate You - Part 11

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: I restarted this about four times—re-wrote the last few sentences for about half an hour. Also I was so excited to write Eris again but he wouldn’t fit in this chapter 😔

Warnings: sexual assault, Bas and his bloody knuckles, Azriel

Word Count: 5,830

-Part 10- -Part 12-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Azriel is going to die.

He’s going to die, and it will be at your hand.

Silence echoes through your mind, the world filled with dark blues and dismal greys—the colours of rainclouds and heavy fog over a midnight river. While the air is warm, ice prickles the layer beneath your skin, seemingly caught in your clothes, captured in your flesh. The perpetual cold of the mortal lands perhaps never fully having left the marrow of your bones.

At the table you sit still, trying to silence your mind to focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to be thinking about that right now. Not today.

Brow pulls together, lips twisting down as the bone of your thumb presses to the line between your eyes, pushing away the pressure.

Ease out a breath, shoulders slumping, muscles draining away as the door is closed on the world. Locked cozily within the dark quiet of the open kitchen.

The last time you’d sat here feels like months ago, presents stacked upon the table with a pretty cake to tuck into. Now there’s nothing to offer but a meagre cupcake, a lone candle put sadly into the spongy head you hadn’t even paid for—it had been a sample, someone giving out free little things so none of the food would go to waste.

It isn’t even decorated, aside from the thin waxy stick the House had offered up.

Lower lip curls, scowling with hot eyes at the small cake.

You stare for a long while, vision blurring every so often before it’s cleared away by a disciplinary blink. Loathing carved between your ribs, twisting and slicing, but never ending. A muscle flickers in your jaw, before finally shifting into motion, sitting straighter.

This night isn’t about you, and you’ll be damned if you make it so.

Breathing deeply, the wooden figurine is placed on the table, palm damp and cool without it’s warmth in your hand. The maiden looks on at the small cupcake, disappointed, pretty flowers drooping in elegant fingers. The skirts of are caught frozen in motion, the hem lifting from her ankles, the graceful sweep of hair being pulled gently toward the candle, as if the breeze is luring her in.

Eyes stare at the sight, and you have to sit back in your chair. Observing the scene, how small and meagre it is for something that deserves much more.

When the world blurs this time, you don’t blink it away, letting it fill and swell. Break over the edge of picked-thin lashes.

Slowly, you lean forward, picking up the light box of matches, taking one out, and striking it against the abrasive card. Fire flares before dimming, wisps of smoke curling from the glowing light, putting a pleasant scent into the room as you lower it to the candle, spreading the scant glow. With a single flick of your hand, the flame is put out, sending up a poor last signal with its diminishment, glowing weakly, before finally extinguishing.

Inky blues and grey-blacks dim the already sparse light, encroaching on the small patch of light like wolves circling a small, run-down hut. Waiting for the first sign of dilapidation before pouncing, sharp canines sinking into the soft, fleshy centre.

Your head hangs, forearms braced on to table either side the little show. Fingers curl, pressing into the now-soft skin, callouses from the days of wood-chopping and frostbite softened by a single dip into freezing cold water. Murky and depthless.

Bringing forth irrevocable change.

————

Azriel’s wings stretch out over his chair, the muscles rippling, shoulders working free of the tension before standing from his desk.

For what ever reason, the House has decided he should get his own food for tonight, evening long since passed with the days becoming shorter and shorter. Light waning, the dark sidling closer the deeper into autumn time flows. Like clockwork, shadows skitter off down the hallway, floating along floorboards and dipping beneath rugs, settling at the darkened threshold of her door. No light warms the gap, and habitually they listen out for the soft sighs of breathing, forgetting the enchantment that’s been placed on the room.

They hurry back, curling around his ear, delivering the information seamlessly as he makes his way silently down the dim halls. He can see perfectly fine in the night—there’d be no point to lighting a candle.

Strain remains tight in his shoulders, having finished reading through Cass’ letter as well as the dozens of other reports monitoring various changes and shifts in courts. Other things to deal with, to allocate time and resources to, seamlessly shifting his network of spies to target and attend to the more prominent catches in his web.

He doubts he’ll be able to catch even a wink tonight, a tight pulse in his chest warning him of sleep.

————

The breath exhales softly, staring at the lone flame, flickering dimly in the overbearing darkness, and you can’t help but think of your youngest sister. The wane light in the wintry forrest, battered by icy winds and freezing frosts.

Calming the beat of your heart, you press your palms together, leaning forward so the knuckle of your thumbs slot above the bridge of your nose. Head bowing toward the candle, eyes sliding shut, keeping the pressure at bay.

“Happy birthday, dad,” you whisper.

Already the edges of your mouth tremble, but you try to stay firm, sucking in a shaky breath. Blurred memories of the war begin seeping back in, the damp smell of blood and sickness, mixed with sweat and leather. Slowly lower your hands, palms pressing flat against the table as you look at the flickering light. The miniature wood carving bought in memory of his carpentry.

“I miss you,” you murmur, voice wobbling in the silence. “It’s been difficult since you’ve gone. Difficult for a while now.” Throat rolls, shifting in your seat, spine straightening. “Feyre’s doing well though. As much as I can tell, anyway. She’s had a baby too, did you know? I don’t know if you’re still able to watch us anymore, so sorry if you’re all caught up—I just thought might as well be on the safe side, and I don’t know what else to talk about besides them.”

Tongue darts out to wet your lips, breathing softly, calming the emotion in your chest. “He’s called Nyx, and he looks just like them.” The flame blurs, light dripping out in dots through the room, and you quickly wipe your eyes. “She’s been busy with him—I think she’s been taking him out on walks through Velaris every now and again when he wakes up early, though sometimes the others take on some tasks. I know Mor likes having him around, and even Amren has a soft spot for him already.” The corners of your mouth tug down, head lowering as you stare into the flame. “I think she’s doing well, after all this time. She can stand on her feet.”

Night-kissed memories float up through the fog, of crunching snow and steaming blood, dribbling out of a doe carcass.

“Elain’s good too,” you manage, attention flicking to the wooden maiden. “I think her and Lucien have begun getting along better, or at least not as awkward as they once were. I went with her to visit him a while back—to the old human lands, and—” You fumble, tripping over your words. “Do you know it all worked out?” You ask quietly. “I must’ve told you last year, but just in case I didn’t: we won. The war, I mean.” Vision blurs again, blinking away the dampness.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, dad,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I know it’s morbid, and maybe if I had been there, I would have wished I wasn’t, but Nesta was, and Feyre was there too, and Elain got to… They got to see you again.” The first tear splashes onto the wooden grain, and you hastily wipe it away, fearing it might stain somehow. “I wish I’d gotten to see you again before you went away,” you mumble, swallowing thickly. “I miss you a lot. And they’re all doing well, and getting better, and…”

Take in a deep breath, lungs stuttering, hauling in quivering pulls of air. Dip your head slightly.

“They’re doing well,” you whisper, nodding to yourself. Repeating it in your mind.

“I think you’d be happy with them.”

————

Shadows swirl at his wings, shifting as they dip ahead into the kitchen, skittering back with their message. She’s in there, sat at the table.

Azriel pauses in the hallway, debating the merits of bumping into her at such a late hour. He remembers how poorly his last late-night interaction went, and is frankly disinclined to revisit the memory on any level. The softness of Elain’s skin still registered in some chamber of his mind, laying dusty and untouched for some time, unable to bring himself to quite take it back out just yet.

His stomach grumbles quietly, and he sets a hand on his lower abdomen, rubbing absently as he thinks. Wonders why she’s decided to come out of her room tonight instead of keeping to her space—why tonight of all nights the House is throwing him under the wagon. But he’s a full-grown male, he can handle one short interaction, even if it’s with her. It’ll be a good chance to check on how she’s doing physically in person, too, having been putting off that task for a while, satisfied with the imaginary rendering his shadows bring him every now and then.

Azriel continues down the hall, noting the dim flicker of light from the doorway, warming the blue darkness to a sparse orange, a clear outline of colour in the deep shadow and he wonders what she’s doing. A few quiet steps bring him to the threshold, steadying himself for her longing eyes and the dipped shoulders.

He rounds the frame but halts on the threshold, shadows instinctively slinking across his skin, pressing silently back into the darkness of her peripherals.

She’s crumpled over, sobbing silently, shoulders trembling as deep breaths heave and shudder from her lungs. Her features protectively hidden by the sleeves of her cardigan, pressed tight to her features as quiet, wet cries gasp from her lips, trembling in the dim light of her single candle.

He watches from the edge of the room, observing silently, caught on the force of despair. How it’s shaking her frame, wracking it like a paper lantern in a storm, tossed and battered until it’s soaked and dissolving beneath the downpour. Flame reflects in the golden pool beneath her on the table, rippling with hot droplets as they drip heavily, splashing between the grains, growing steadily larger.

The tips of his fingers tingle, but he resists stepping forward—with everything that’s between the two of them he doubts it would help.

The familiar scent of gardenias floats over to him, stronger than usual, and hazel eyes trace the bare skin of her hands.

They’re horrifically dry, despite the intensity of the scent that always accompanies her nowadays, skin peeling around her nails, cracked and flakey like freshly baked pastry, rough patches of rawness peeking through, sore and worn from the interior of her gloves.

To a less observant pair of eyes, it may have appeared as a case of frostbite, or treatable dryness, but he recognises that formation—the slight warp of burning flesh.

Her palms press to gleaming cheeks, as if the wetness will absorb into her hands, curing the desiccated expanse, soaking up until they’re perfect again, without a flaw or crack to be found. The bones in his hands ache dully, pains blooming beneath his own warped flesh, swollen and melted in parts, scarred and misshapen. Deformed.

She starts mumbling under her breaths, sobs becoming heavier, lungs gasping as air is harshly sucked in, stumbling and stuttering in her shuddering chest. She’s apologising. Over and over, murmured sorries and desperate pleas. Repeating over and over how sorry she is as the water ripples beneath her, lips tugged down, brows knotted in sheer self-loathing. So concentrated it knocks him in his chest.

He should turn away—he can wait a few hours easily, allow her to vacate and recover at her own pace—but he’s kept at the edge, watching silently, wreathed in shadow saved for the flame-lit hazel of his eyes. Observing such a pure display of sorrow and wretchedness, a sense of foreign familiarity ghosting within his chest. Like finding a new path to an exact location—one he hadn’t known existed until then, completing a fraction of the unknown map.

Azriel takes in her curled up form, hunched over the candle, back curved as she sobs into damp wool, familiarising the sight. His expression tightens ever so slightly, brows pulling in, edges of his mouth twisting down, working into the beginnings of a frown.

With one last scan, he turns silently, retuning her the privacy she’s unaware has been disturbed.

————

You ease out a heavy sigh, but your shoulders remain tense.

Half a cupcake remains on the table, the house setting a glass dome over its top.

You peer down at the symbol numbly, eyes sore and swollen. Aching from intense use. That’s all the emotion you can manage for the night—a drought forming in the desiccated innards of your soul. Tears have been bled dry to a state of numbness, skin tingling absently. Breathing mindlessly. Wandering listlessly.

————

You land three light taps to the door, the warm lamp far above you illuminating the small inlet of the entrance, a wooden frame either side to hold the vines as they’ve reached and crawled over the years, the tiny pale flowers putting out a lovely fragrance—like lilies, or sweet peas. Long moments pass, then the door is quietly opening, one dark hand resting casually at the height of it, the other against its frame.

“Hey,” he greets, the edges of his mouth relaxing a little.

“Hi,” you reply, realising how scratchy your voice is, raw from that long hour. Hastily clear your throat, shifting in the entrance. “Would you— I mean, are you busy tonight?” You ask, wringing your fingers slightly, stopping when gold flicks down to mark the action.

Bas releases the door, opening it a little wider, standing straighter and clearing his throat. “Nope,” he says, “something on your mind?” Instantly the lone candle flickers in your head, the sponginess of the small cupcake, and you blink away the prickling pressure. “Yes,” you answer quietly. “I just— I don’t want to talk about it,” you settle on, returning your gaze to his. Anxiety beginning to melt away—you can be something other than fine around him. Lower lip wobbles with the thought, but you hasten to push the welling emotion away. Your eyes would hate you if you started crying again.

A deep breath eases into your lungs, then blown out heavily.

“I had a rough evening,” you say vaguely, “and I’m feeling pretty awful at the moment, so I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit.”

He watches silently from the warm inside of his home, the smell of rosemary and thyme cozily wrapping around you, almost enough to make you wish for a night in, but you’d rather not feel for a little bit. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He says at last, stepping back to allow you inside. You follow quietly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow, keeping to the wall. “Do what?” You ask, wondering if he’d like you to take your shoes off since it looks like you might be coming further in.

“Phrase questions weirdly,” he laughs faintly, the deep sound breathing a small spark back into your blood. “Like that one, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to out for a bit.’ I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit?” He repeats, raising the inflection at the end. “You know you can ask me stuff, yeah?”

You feel the faint tug of a smile on your lips, amusement crossing your features. “I know,” you reply, “maybe I just didn’t feel like saying it as a question.” Bas rolls his golden eyes, mouth copying yours, forming a slight smile, before shaking his head and turning. “Let me grab something. Anywhere you want to go?” He calls from over a broad shoulder, reaching for a warmer piece to put over his indoor clothes.

Shake your head, keeping to the edge of the room, wary of the clean floor. “I just want to be outside tonight,” you say quietly. “I don’t…the inside just…” You purse your lips in a grimace, and he nods. “I get you.”

Another well of emotion builds in your chest, but again you push it away.

Tongue licks out over your lips, shifting on your feet, making an effort to brighten your demeanour. “What’s going on with you at the moment? There was that thing you wanted to talk about last time…?” When you’d had a small crying session in his arms. Whenever the memory inserts itself into your head, you’re torn between embarrassment and jealousy. Embarrassment at breaking down over such a small thing after having kept it together for so long, jealousy over how easily that comes to other people. That small, sad part of yourself wanting more, but as usual, she’s gently pushed aside.

Bas sucks in a slow breath, guiding you to the door. “Yeah, about that…” The two of you step outside into the crisp night air, and you wrap your scarf closer, huddling beneath the warmth. Even after all this time, the warmth in the chillier months is something you can’t help but find your stress in.

“So…” you encourage when he goes quiet, linking his arm with yours. “What did you want to say?” But he shakes his head. “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he answers with forced lightness. Brow dips—is it something to do with his dad?

“You okay?” You ask softly, stepping a little closer as you make the walk down his small front garden, the gate creaking open before he shuts it behind you. “Fine,” he replies, then relents. “A bit tense.”

You try to come to a stop, but he gives a gentle tug on your arm, telling you to continue on. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

With a heavy swallow, you direct your attention forward, hand pressing into the warm muscle of his arm, firmly linked together. “You’ll tell me when it’s been enough, right?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself not to peer at him through your peripherals. He has an uncanny sense for when people are watching him.

He’s quiet, continuing on with the walk, but you don’t make the mistake of trying to rush him. Sometimes he just takes a bit.

“Sure,” he says at last, and this time you do look at him, a slight glint of amusement in your eyes to soften the stern set of your mouth. “Sebastian,” you warn, and he cringes at your side. “Fine, yeah, I’ll say something,” he relents, waving his free hand, not quite meeting your eye. You manage a quiet laugh, before you both settle back into silence, quietly paying attention to the swish of the breeze, skirting around the subjects at hand.

The question’s on the tip of your tongue, eyes watching him from the side, but then he gives and almost undetectable squeeze to your arm. So light you’d think you might have imagined it. Had the two of you been human, you would have dismissed it. But fae bodies have an entire new level of awareness to them, impossibly sensitive on depthless levels. Utterly overwhelming at first. Still getting a handle on some of the more intense senses.

As it is, you take it as his answer. The promise he won’t voice.

So you continue on into the night, neither of you quite fully present in the moment to be doing something like this. But bad decisions happen, and mistakes are made. Without them, life would be boring, and dull. You’d never progress.

————

Skin buzzes pleasantly, a wide smile on your lips as you lean into Bas’ side, greedily taking in his warmth, mourning already forgotten and pushed to the side.

You stumble along, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as laughter rings between you, fuel for the rest of the night, replenishing the emptied wells of emotion like he’s pouring molten gold straight into your blood.

He’d been tense at first—nothing outright, or obvious in any sense of the word, but those small tells were there. Patterns one can only pick up on after spending pure, concentrated months with someone. And his behaviour had been erratic. The tension in his jaw when a female had bumped into him, spinning clumsily on her feet to apologise. The pause before he’d forgiven her, and continued on with his night. Then he’d refused to even take a sip of your drink, politely but firmly refusing your attempts to get him to loosen up.

You’d tried plying him with all sorts of methods, from joking and humour, to offering up some of your own little pieces, to asking directly what was going on inside his head that night. He’d diverted the first two, and snapped at you to mind your own business at the last one, which—to be fair—he was entitled to do. You know you wouldn’t appreciate one of your sisters trying to worm their way back into your life if you wanted your peace.

Eventually, you’d gotten up, telling him you’d pop outside for some fresh air—the night sky is always beautiful here—but he hadn’t wanted to come with you, simply sipping quietly on the non-alcoholic drink before him. Was it something to do with whatever he’d wanted to speak with you about?

While you’re out on the balcony, you explore the possibilities of what he might want to say. Though, you decide to stop once you notice the thoughts steadily becoming worse and worse, pausing the process before you cause yourself a public meltdown—you can theorise once you get back to the House.

But with thought of the House comes thoughts of that dangerous piece of parchment on your desk. The open challenge left for you, daring you to bring out some imagined claws. Outrageous and bold and brazen. You can’t even begin to imagine what those sorts of characteristics would imply to your personality. Do you even possess the capacity to become anything other than the flimsy spec you are? To make something out of the damage, to make it worth an amount, so it’s anything but weight, and trauma, and baggage.

Running gloved fingers over your face, you raise from the balcony, turning and heading back in. You don’t know why you didn’t try and turn back sooner when he obviously wasn’t in the right state to be coming out, certainly not surrounded by alcohol.

(I wanted to, so I did.)

(I disregarded him because I am more important.)

When you re-enter the fairly crowded room, you edge your way along the walls until you can spot him, a glass of water in his hand containing a slice of lemon and what looks like a leaf of mint. He’s speaking with a female, his expression softer than usual, and you wonder if you should perhaps complete another lap of the room if he’s managing to relax. But then another male sidles up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and she’s promptly whisked away onto the floor. Golden eyes follow the two, watching as they disappear into the night.

“Hey,” you greet, pretending to be a little more fatigued than you truthfully are. Bas inclines his head in reply, taking a deep drink of the liquid, draining the glass before returning it to the wooden surface of the bar. “Ready?” He asks, standing promptly. A smile softens your features as you nod—wondering how long he’s been wanting to leave but sticking it out. He nods again, the warm piece he’d grabbed before setting out into the night getting put over his free arm as his hand grazes the space between your shoulder blades.

You both cross over the threshold of the establishment, and the cold air smacks you right in the face, draining the warmth in an instant. Bas chuckles lowly, tossing you the outer layer, immune to the cold.

You peer at him hesitantly, but he just rolls his eyes. “You’re cold, and I’m offering you a solution,” he says pointedly. “So take it, yeah?” You give in, sliding your arms into the too-large sleeves, wrapping it around your bodice, relieved to keep out the raw bite of oncoming winter. “Thanks,” you murmur, allowing hesitant comfort to settle over your skin as his arm pulls you out in into the street.

The two of you walk mostly in silence, content to mull over your own issues in peace, the frenetic pulse of others’ lives colliding off one another.

A scream pierces out of nowhere, so shrill that you startle, Bas flinching at your side, heart pounding in your chest. Laughter echoes in response.

Both of you peer toward the sound, but all you find is a female getting to her wobbly feet, surrounded by mirth filled faces offering her various hands up, pulling her back to standing, arms linking close with one another.

You exhale heavily, but beside you Bas is tense, muscle coiled tight beneath the warm heat of his skin. Lightly, you pull on his arm, encouraging him to start moving again because it’s cold outside, and he’s given you his only good piece of protection against the piercing autumn chill. He moves along stiffly, tension tightening across his muscles, hands tucked tight in the deep pockets of his trousers.

Silently, you peer at him from the corner of your eye, noting the rigid posture, the downward tip of his brows, the tension in his jaw, as if biting down.

“Hey,” you say softly, laying your hand on his shoulder, bringing him out from whatever space he’d dropped into. Golden eyes flick to you, more distant than usual, and you realise just how lucky it was that male scooped up the female when he did—he’s clearly needing to be alone right now, in the peace and solitude of his own home.

You put a smile across your features, “scary, huh?”

A beat passes and he’s silent, just watching you.

Then muscle slopes, tension rushing from his body all at once, a heavy sigh deflating from his chest, breath billowing out into the biting cold air. He nods, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

A hand drops to your ass, squeezing with interest before smacking the plump flesh hard.

Your entire body goes rigid, legs shaking as you spin around, clutching tight to Bas’ arm to keep upright, shock disturbing your stomach as your eyes lock with pale green.

“Nice ass,” the male compliments lowly, a slight grin on his lips as he prowls forward, arms wrapping around your waist, large hands settling lightly over your rear, cupping with interest. Instantly you raise your arms to your body, itches breaking out across your skin, pulse kicking up to the beat of a war drum as disgust slithers beneath your flesh. “What—? Get off—”

“Get the hell off her.”

Bas turns on a dime, the tension breaking across his features as his lip pulls back from gleaming white teeth, golden eyes glittering with rage as he shoves one hand into the male’s chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces, storm clouds thundering in his expression.

Hands tremble at your front, managing a few hastened steps away, putting shaky stumbles between you and the male, breath shuddering in and out of your lungs as you stare with wide eyes. Bas takes a step forward, bringing his hands up out of his pockets to remove the rings adorning his deft fingers, golden bands sliding up over his knuckles. “looking for trouble?” He growls, eyes trained on the opposing male with deepening anger.

The male raises his open palms, a faint smile on his sober features, pale green eyes gleaming beneath the hot faelights. “Calm down man. I didn’t know she was yours,” he drawls smoothly, “no harm done.”

“No harm done?” Bas hisses, baring his teeth, an icy gleam in his normally perfectly golden gaze. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he growls lowly, keeping you behind him.

The smile fades from the male’s face, shifting into a slight scowl. “Calm the fuck down,” he snaps irritably, “it was a fucking compliment.” Bas snarls, discipline slipping as he stalks forward, fist snatching up the collar of the male’s shirt, a faint tearing sound ripping through the crisp night air. Pale green eyes widen, before deepening with anger. “What the fuck is your problem? It was a fucking—”

“You fucking try and put your hands on her again,” he mutters softly, the threat reverberating deep in his chest, staring down the opposition. “Fucking try, and see what happens.”

The male’s brows dip, lip curling back as he bares his teeth, shoving the flats of his palms into Bas’ chest, roughly pushing him off. “You tore my shirt,” he mutters, staring down at the ripped fabric. Pale green clashes with raging gold, darkening to viridian. The male looks down his nose, folding his arms over his chest. “You better fucking pay for that, prick.”

“For what? The improvement?” Bas barks, hands tightening into fists at his sides, aching for a brawl, that familiar itch practically scrawled across his features. Obvious to no one but you. Silvery moonlight catches his knuckles, something sharp and glassy catching your eye.

The male’s features twist with anger, then they’re slamming into one another, light gleaming; darkness swirling.

They’re using magic.

Your pulse kicks up, hands trembling as you stare helplessly, unable to formulate any thoughts. Before you power crackles in the air, tension buzzing like static before lightening strikes, and you need to intervene. But it’s as though you’ve been vanished from the world, physical form obliterated so you’re simply a wisp of conscious being tossed brutally in stormy seas. Just your skin tingling disgustingly in the shape of large palm prints. Like he’s scorched your body, so everyone can see the patch where—

The male pins Bas to the floor, his large body thudding heavily against the stone of the cobbles, one hand splaying across his shoulder, fist pulled back tight as a bowstring, shooting down, landing blow after blow to the centre of his face, blood spraying across a vicious smile. Gold practically glows in the hot light, enjoying it, letting the rage and fury build until it’s ready to combust, to be released on the male atop him. He’s savouring it, and you can do nothing but watch as he slides back into that state of self-destruction. Right before your eyes.

A wet crunch sounds, cartilage shattering, blood coating sharp, gleaming teeth that are bared in a feral grin.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” The male laughs, pulling Bas up by the collar, arm wound back, preparing to strike hard now the bone has caved. “You fucking brain dead?” He shouts, ears wincing from the volume, green eyes lit with bloody glee, liquid dripping from his knuckles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, recognising the path Bas has settled on. The numb violence in his gaze having your throat closing up. Before you can help it, your feet are moving on their own, pushing through the shadows as you run over to the two, arms wrapping tight around the male’s elbow, locking it in place as you lean to counter-weight his strength. “Bas…” you manage, voice cracking, muscles turning weak with adrenaline, legs like custard as they tremble.

Pale green eyes snap to yours, his head whipping round, only to grow wide, features illuminated with a blinding glow. Skin burns, from your fingertips to your stomach to your heels—you’re burning. The male flinches beneath your hold, and you hardly have enough time to catch yourself before he’s jerked his arm out of your grip, the point of his elbow hitting the dip of your collar bones, just shy of your throat. Heart stumbles in your chest before a force shoves at your spine, pushing you back into the male as the knuckles of his hand smack across your cheek, sending you tumbling to the ground. Copper bursts on your tongue as you flip over, scrambling to get up but trembling so violently you might be sick.

The male raises his curled fist again, preparing to strike, but Bas has gotten his dose of violence, bloodlust glittering in blazing gold eyes as lips pull apart into a wet, bloody smile. You catch the gleam of ice coating his knuckles, cold moonlight glinting across frozen, jagged edges before he flips the male over, fist connecting with his jaw, a bloody tooth being spat out onto the cobbles. Then the furore begins, fist pulling back over and over as he keeps the male choked to the ground, sawtoothed ice smashing against skin and bone with every wet crunch.

You try to call out, but your lips are too numb to move, skin stinging with piercing pain. Dark red splatters on the cobbles, flecked through with tiny shards of ice as the crunching continues, getting wetter and softer with every hit. Like the heavy thump of raw meat upon a carving table.

Trembling, you move to get to your feet, fingertips itching with adrenaline, shaking with indecision. Bas is going to regret this, you know it. He’ll come out of that haze drowning in self-loathing for giving into the impulse after so long of numbing it. You can’t let him continue—stop him before he does serious damage to himself.

He’s been there for you, and you need to be there for him.

Breath eases into your lungs, skin itching deeper, the burning again raising as your fingertips tingle, trying to reach out for your power. The sting of the green light begins to manifest, aching in your stomach, head pounding, rising to the surface—

You’re hauled upright, turned around and directed away from the beat down, magic extinguished the second his scent wraps around you in a night-kissed breeze.

Azriel doesn’t say a thing, simply curves his wing round at your back, guiding you off into the night.

You don’t have the capacity for dread or fear at what he’ll say once you’re far enough away.

All you can think about is the quiet warmth of him at your side, steady and assured.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen @erin-m-harmon

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #cbmthy #multi part fic

392 notes · View notes

hardly-an-escape · 3 months

Text

Fluffbruary Days 9, 10 & 11

gonna try to do a little daily drabble just to get the creative juices going while I work on longer WIPs. no guarantees that it'll be every day.

Hob’s vigil is but halfway gone when he hears footsteps behind him.

The chapel is dark. The only light comes from the pair of candlesticks flanking his armor and sword where they are laid upon the altar. Hob is clad only in a thin cotton shift, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as the footsteps slowly make their way down the aisle to where he kneels on a thin cushion directly before the altar.

“Rise, sir knight,” says a deep and familiar voice.

“Not a knight yet,” Hob responds quietly. “Your Highness.”

“Do you doubt your ability to master this challenge?”

“No, my liege,” Hob says. He remains on his knees. “Lest you be a manifestation of temptation, sent to sway me from my path.”

“Not I.” Dream finally steps into his line of sight, and Hob’s breath catches in his throat. His prince is a vision, dressed in a diaphanous robe, long hair in a simple braid over his shoulder. “I merely wished to look upon the face of the man I love once more, ere it is wreathed in responsibilities.”

Hob flushes. He is not supposed to touch another soul between the ritual bath and when the priests come at dawn to fetch him for the ceremony, but he longs for Dream with every fiber of his being.

“I think you have come to tempt me, you sprite,” he accuses, and Dream smiles softly.

“Peace, my own,” he says. “Return to your prayers. Know that mine are with you also. I will see you in the morning.”

He glides from the chapel, but turns when Hob calls his name.

“Dream. My prince. I want you to know…” He has to pause and swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “When I swear my oath it will be to king and country, yes. But my first and best oath – the one I swear in my heart – will be to you. Always.”

He is shocked to see tears glinting in his lord’s crystal blue eyes. Dream nods, once, and slips out the side door.

In the morning, the priests come. Hob is clothed in a robe of pure white and thinks of Dream. He receives the sacrament, the first food to pass his lips in twenty four hours, and thinks of Dream.

The king presides over the ceremony. There is a pained look and a murmured apology from his advisor when he forgets Hob’s name.

Hob barely notices. He thinks of Dream.

Dream’s hands drape the red robe over his shoulders. Dream’s hands drop the embroidered black tabard over his head. Red, for his willingness to be wounded. Black, for his readiness to die for his lord.

The king rests his sword on the back of Hob’s neck, but it is Dream’s voice that rings out over the assembled crowd.

“Rise, Sir Gadling, knight of the realm.”

prompt list!

#okay the word count got away from me on this one #I think this is actually the first time I've written knight!Hob #which is kind of crazy #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2024 #kinda shoehorned some words in to stretch this out over three days' worth of prompts #meh

96 notes · View notes

stayconnecteed · 3 months

Text

❪⠀🪐.⠀𓏔⠀valentine's collab · masterlist⠀❫

☆ㅤgot nothing but love for you, i fall more in love every day !!

synopsis: one shots that talk about romance, and how every member of stray kids fell in love. stay and discover their stories, those hidden between the streets of seoul, in which all of them are protagonists, but so are you.

info: content, non-related one shots (between them) that my lovely mana ( @hanjsquokka ) and i will write until valentine's day! there is no specific order. warnings, just pure sickening fluff for everyone!

★⠀valentine's collab⠀@⠀mana's masterlist.

01. ╱⠀SWEETS⠀⠀bangchan.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mars ━━ 3.7k ★ when chris first saw you, it was past midnight and he was tired, so no one should judge him if he thought it was one of his dreams. and as some dreams come true, finding out that not only are you the sister of one of his friends, but that you also have a crush on him, might just be the sweetest dream of all⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀07/02/2024

02. ╱⠀TANGLED EARPHONES⠀⠀han jisung.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mana ━━ 3k ★ jisung doesn't remember the last time he had a crush but he does know that he definitely has a crush on you now, even though he's known you for less than an hour and hardly spoken ten sentences with you. he's never going to see you again after this but that doesn't stop him from falling head over heels for you⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀08/02/2024

03. ╱⠀LIPSTICK STAINS⠀⠀lee know.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mars ━━ 4.3k ★ minho hated many things. he hated talking for the sake of talking, and would often cut off conversation if it seemed insipid. he even hated make-up, with its sticky foundation and faux appearance. and he hated being kept waiting. at least until you came into his life, and suddenly he didn't care at all⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀11/02/2024

04. ╱⠀ROSE COLORED GLASSES⠀⠀lee felix.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mana ━━ 2.5k ★ falling in love with your best friend wasn't the greatest thing, especially when felix was damn sure he wouldn't be able to survive without your presence if you walked out of his life. he kept his feelings hidden, tucked away to the farthest part of his mind so he could stay with you. but how long could he keep his emotions from the one person that knew him the most?⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀13/02/2024

05. ╱⠀COUCH CUDDLES⠀⠀seo changbin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mars ━━ 3.4k ★ everyone knew that changbin and you had met at ikea. you had been friends for years, and yet he never got tired of repeating the anecdote that had brought you together. there was one part he had never told you, though: he had asked his parents to buy that green sofa on which you had been sitting together in that first meeting. that very same couch you always ask cuddles in when one of your dates goes wrong⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀15/02/2024

06. ╱⠀CARAMEL MACCHIATO⠀⠀kim seungmin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mana ━━ 2.5k ★ seungmin hated the morning shift. he hated the way some people thought they could say whatever they wanted to him just because he wasn't able to hand them their scalding hot drink quick enough. you were an enigma of sorts the second he saw you walk in. and suddenly, the six hours he spent every day were too short⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀18/02/2024

07. ╱⠀ETHEREAL ROSES⠀⠀hwang hyunjin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mars ━━ 3.1k ★ even before he knew your name, hyunjin already knew your dog's. it had been difficult not to, considering that you shouted it on a daily basis in the park where he walked kkami. but he wasn't complaining: thanks to jisung he had been able to meet you, and and after a slight confusion, being able to see you again, and then again, painting your future in a lovesick red, as pure as the one in the roses that had brought you two together⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀28/02/2024

08. ╱⠀NEON LIGHTS⠀⠀yang jeongin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; by mana ━━ 2.5k ★ jeongin always believed he'd meet the love of his life in a place like the movie theaters or somewhere romantic. not in a frat party when he wasn't exactly sober. you were a sight to behold underneath the neon lights, leaving him to want more than just a taste⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀27/02/2024

99 notes · View notes

isaidonyourknees · 4 months

Text

Invisible String

Tech x fem!reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: the three times you almost met him and the one time you did.

Warnings: slow burn to the extreme. Like nothing happens yet. This is just establishing their stories. Alcohol mentions. A few mentions of fights.

A/N: hi! So this was an idea I had for a series to explore multiple tropes. It’ll be a slow burn relationship where each chapter is dedicated to a new troupe/situation! I’m not sure how often I’ll be updating this as I’ll work on it between other projects.

The open shift was probably the easiest shift to work at 79s. Costumers - who, more often than not, were mostly clone troopers - were a lot easier to handle when they weren’t drunk off their faces. Usually you would be finished and gone by the time they start getting rowdy.

The open shift was usually your normal shift as well. You’d work until 11 or 12, go home and sleep before getting up and going to your GAR medic training course at 8am which would finish at 4pm, leaving you an hour before you started work.

Tonight however, your routine was altered when you received a comm from your coworker, asking you to cover their shift as they had fallen ill. The shift had been going well so you had agreed to stay on. You were starting to regret that decision as a clone, the fifth one of the night, tried to hit on you.

“Y’sssoo pretty” he slurred. You grab a glass and fill it with some water, placing it in front of him.

“Drink this and return to your squad solider” you order him gently.

“Y’no fun” he pouts but he takes the drink and stumbles back over to his brothers. A new clone replaces his spot, asking for a beer. Just as you hand it over to him a commotion rises from behind him.

“I’ve got it” you say to your coworker with a sigh. Grabbing the medkit from under the counter you move towards the noise.

You approach a fight between and clone trooper and… another clone? You aren’t sure if he is a clone. He looks like one, but his armour is black rather than the GAR standard white, and he’s huge, towering over all the other clones. Despite his size, he seems to be losing the fight, however that isn’t stopping him from getting some hard punches in.

“Alright break it up” you yell over the shouts. Their punches slow down but they don’t stop until the surrounding clones get between them and forcefully separate them.

“Freak” the regular clone spits before stalking out of the bar. The large one glowers and moves to follow but you’re quick to stop him. They could seriously hurt each other and you don’t want that in your conscience. Placing your free hand on his chest you stop him from moving towards the door.

“That’s enough solider” you scold him, bring his attention fully to you. He relaxes when he sees you, the tension leaving his body.

“He started it” he whines and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I don’t care who started it. Now come over here so I can patch you up” you say. He grumbles under his breath but follows you to a quiet corner. You sit him down and place the medkit on the table and grab the bacta wipes out. You’re already running out. You’ll need to place an order for more. You also grab a cloth, pressing it to his bloody nose and telling him to hold it there as you run the bacta wipes over the small cut on his chin and the bruise that’s already beginning to form on his cheek.

“What’s your name?” You question him as you work.

“Wrecker” he grunts.

“You a clone?” You’re fairly certain he is, but you ask anyway to be sure.

“Yeah. Regs don’t like me much ‘cause I’m different.” You don’t offer a response for a moment as you remove the cloth over his nose. The blood flow has stopped so you wipe away the rest of the blood from his face before moving away from him, packing up the medkit.

“What squad you with?” He frowns at you when you ask this.

“You goin’ to report me or somethin’?”

“No, just making sure the other guy didn’t do too much damage.”

“Oh. Squad 99 then.”

“They here tonight?”

“Uh huh” he affirms.

“Good,” you snap the medkit shut. “Take me to them.”

You follow the tall man through the crowded bar to a booth with three men sitting in it, their armour black and red like his. As you get closer to them you can see more details of the men. Two of them are tall and lanky, one of them wearing large yellow goggles. The third is shorter with half his face covered by a tattoo, a red bandanna on his head. They sit up straighter when they see you approaching.

“ You squad 99?” You question the table. The man with the long hair and red bandanna answers.

“Yes. Is there a problem” he answers, eyeing the medkit in your hand. You don’t answer his question.

“And this is Wrecker?” You ask, pointing and the large clone next to you. The man at the table nods. “I suggest you have someone take him home for the night. He’s had enough to drink and has been in a fight with another clone.” The man at the table just sighs tiredly.

“Alright Wrecker, come on” he says, standing from the table.

“Wrecker, next time if you’re going to fight, don’t come here” you say before you turn around, moving back towards the bar and the rest of your shift.

•~•~•

“That’s the last of them” you announce, stacking the last dinner tray onto the trolley.

“Thank you ma’am. You didn’t need to help” the cadet says.

“It’s no stress. Kitchen duty sucks, so I’m happy to try and make it easier for you” you say kindly to the boy, ruffling his hair. “Now get a move on. You don’t want to get in trouble for being late.” The boy smiles and pushes the trolley out of the medbay.

“Maker what I would’ve done to have you around when I was a cadet” the trooper laying in the bed closest to you says.

“Hmm but then you wouldn’t have my excellent care now” you say.

“That’s very true” he smiles.

“Now you rest for a bit. I’ll be over in an hour to check your stitches again” you say. He nods and you start making your way back to the front of the large room to your desk.

It wasn’t quite the role you were wanting when you when trained and applied to be a medic. You were more hoping to be on the front lines with the soldiers. For whatever reason, the GAR seemed to think you were better suited here, stationed on Kamino watching over the men in recovery and tending to minor injuries from training. Despite it being a bit slow you did enjoy it. In the end helping the men get better was all that mattered to you.

You picked up your datapad as you sat down at your desk, opening up some files. You usually let the clones rest for a bit after dinner before you start prodding and checking on them again, so you use this time to open and prepare their files for your next round. You’re halfway through your organising when your comm chimes.

“We had a fight break out in the mess. Sending four troopers your way.”

“Copy that” you respond, placing the datapad on the desk and moving to grab the little trolley that was used to store some of your equipment. You wheeled it over to chairs by your desk, where you normally healed minor injuries.

Four men walked in, grumpy expressions on their faces. Whatever had happened in the mess hall, they weren’t happy about it.

“Alright boys have a seat. Any of you seriously injured? Or is it mostly just bruises?” You questioned.

“We’re fine” one of them says gruffly. With your back turned to gather some bacta, you didn’t know who had spoken.

“Alright well I still have to give you a look over. Gloves off please” you tell them. You turn to the first man. The one wearing googles. You gently grab his chin, looking over his face for any sign of injury. You couldn’t see any so you stepped back, turning to his hands. You picked up his left hand, running a bacta wipe over the reddened skin before doing the same on his right. “You won’t bruise. You’ll be fine.”

You next turn to the one with silver hair. Once again you gently grasp his chin to look over his face. You place a bacta patch over a small cut on his eyebrow and clean his knuckles, moving on to the next solider. You move the red bandanna he wears off his forehead and you press a cool pack to the bruise beginning to form around his eye. Finally, you turn to the last man, frowning when you realise he’s vaguely familiar. You study his face and see no sign of injury. It’s as you’re cleaning his slightly bloodied knuckles that you remember him.

“I remember you! I had to pull you out of a fight at 79s a few years ago” you exclaim.

“That sounds about right” the silver haired man says with an eye roll. The man in front of you tries to look sheepish. You finish cleaning his hands and throw out the used bacta wipes before grabbing your datapad from your desk.

“Well at this rate I’d think you like getting in fights” you say jokingly.

“I do! They’re fun!” He says happily, and you realise, completely seriously.

“Well maybe save the fighting for the droids and not for your brothers in the future” you scold lightly. He pouts but nods his understanding.

“Alright I need your designation numbers for the database and then you’re good to go.” They list off their numbers and you create a file for each of them, adding the injuries they had, if any, before you clear them and send them back to their barracks, reminding them not to detour or start anymore fights as they go.

•~•~•

“Are you doing inventory today?” A little voice asks from behind you. Turning, you find Omega standing in the doorway. You gesture her in with a smile.

“I’m about to. Gotta take this down for sterilisation first. Wanna join me for the walk?” You ask the girl who nods enthusiastically. You place the box of tools into a bag and started down the halls, leading the way.

“How long are spending with me today?” You ask. Nala Se often tasked Omega to help you for a few hours a week so that Nala Se could do her own tasks while knowing that Omega was staying out of trouble - or so Nala Se says. Omega was such a polite, friendly girl that you couldn’t see her getting into too much trouble. She seems a bit cheeky but not enough to cause a lot of strife around the facility.

“Nala Se has only given me an hour” Omega pouts.

“That’s alright. We’ll just make this the best hour possible” you say brightly, although you’re not sure how you can make taking inventory fun, especially for a little girl. Omega seems satisfied though as she beams widely up at you.

You hand off the bag of equipment to the droid waiting and turn back towards your nursing room, Omega chattering away about the newest project Nala Se has her working on.

“Are you needing a bit of a break today? Or do you want to be in charge of the datapad?” You ask Omega when you get back to your office. You’re aware that Nala Se has a habit of overworking Omega sometimes, so you always give her the option to either help you or sit and just keep you company.

“Can I just keep you company today?” Omega asks.

“Of course! I’ll even give you the roller chair” you say with a grin, wheeling the chair over to her. Omega smiles and sits, giving it a spin as she does. You push the chair and the girl over to the storage cupboard. You set up the datapad and begin taking down the first numbers as Omega gets comfortable.

“I made some new friends this week” Omega eventually says. You look over at her with a smile.

“That’s amazing! Nala Se finally let you spend some time with the cadets?” You ask. It was good that Nala Se was finally letting Omega spend some time with kids her own age. Omega shakes her head though and you frown.

“They aren’t cadets. They’re troopers!” Omega exclaims.

“Omega I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for you to be spending extended time with the troopers…” you say carefully. While most of them were good, some also probably weren’t very good company for a child. You also don’t want to think about how poor Omega would feel if they never came back from their deployment.

“These five are very nice! They aren’t part of a battalion” Omega begins chattering away about her new friends.

“Omega, sweetie, they might not be apart of a battalion yet but one day they will be. They won’t be here for much longer and-“ you begin but she cuts you off.

“No they are their own little squad. They’re a special unit!”

You weren’t quite sure how to get your point across without scaring or hurting the young girl.

“I just think you would have more in common with cadets that are your age” you try. Omega huffs.

“But I do have stuff in common with them! They’re different. Like me.”

“Different?” You question before you can stop yourself.

“Yeah! They were created with enhancements as an experiment! Hunter has really good senses and Tech is really smart and Crosshair has really good eyesight. Then there’s Wrecker who is super strong! Then Echo joined. He’s not enhanced like them but they rescued him and he’s half robot!” She says excitedly.

“But you’re not different” you point out.

“Yes I am. I’m not trained in combat like the other cadets. Plus I’m a girl” she says bluntly. You wanted to argue with her about that, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. Besides you promised her a fun hour, so you instead prompted her to tell you about her new friends.

“Well Hunter is the sergeant. He seems stern but I just know he’s caring …”

•~•~•

It had been two weeks since you had been sent home. You were told that as a clone medic, you just weren’t needed anymore as the Empire was trying to phase clones out. It didn’t matter that you are fully trained to heal anyone, clone or not. You were told to pack your things and go.

“…Phase them out like they’re a kriffing fashion trend, not living people that sacrificed everything for the Republic and now the Empire” you scoff. You’re currently lying on your childhood bed, your head hanging upside down over the end of it. Your sister lays on the floor in the middle of the room.

“Hmm you’ve said that. About twenty times in the past two weeks” she says.

You sit up quickly and glare down at her.

“Because it’s true and it’s cruel and needs to be said” you snap. She sits up with a sigh.

“I know. I’m not disagreeing with you. But I’m tired of hearing you complain about it.” You narrow your eyes at her but stay silent, eventually falling back down onto the bed with a huff.

Your eyes boring into the ceiling, you wish you could do something to help the men you had worked with. In your small town on your little home world, you had no power to help. You had heard the quiet whispers about the nature of the new Empire and you knew that you couldn’t fight them on your own, but no one else seems to care about the clones or what happens to them now that there isn’t a war for them to fight.

“Ah so here’s where you’re hiding. I need your help getting the last few crates to your father” your mum says in her usual loud fashion, causing you and your sister to wince and the sudden change in atmosphere.

“We aren’t hiding ma” you sister says as the two of you get up and follow your mother to the shop downstairs. Your parents ran a small bakery that has started to rise in popularity the past few months. So, they were given a small stall to sell their pastries for the three day long festival celebrating the birth of the new princess.

“You take the starberry danishes” your mum says, depositing a crate into your sisters arms. “And you can take the donuts.” You huff as you strain to adjust to the weight. Adjusting the crate to sit more comfortably in your arms, you blindly follow your mum to the speeder she had hired for the festival. You slide the crate into the back of the speeder and close the door. Your mum passes you the keys.

“You can help your father at the stall. We’re going to stay back a do some food prepping for tomorrow before we join you.”

“Sure ma.” You take the keys and drive the short distance to the festival. You unload the crates with your dad’s help and set up the display, costumers starting to trickle through as the afternoon light starts to give way to the starry night sky. It’s tedious and it makes you wish to be back in your medbay on Kamino.

You’re handing your current costumer their change when a few shouts of alarm catch your attention. Looking up, you watch as two men sprint through the crowd, closely followed by an armoured woman. The shouts from the crowd grow louder and more fearful as blaster shots are fired between the three people.

“Get low!” You shout to the customer, hoping they hear you over the crowd. Instead, they turn and make a run for it.

You watch as the three people rush closer and closer to your stall. The woman catches up to the two men and grabs the taller one by the back of his shirt. She yanks him back and sends him collapsing onto the table you stand behind. The table quickly gives out and falls, knocking you down in the process, trapping your legs underneath the table and the man now laying on top of it. The woman plants her foot on the man’s chest and aims her blaster at his face.

You shift your legs, trying to get free, but you’re unsuccessful with all the weight on top of them.

“All I want is the girl” the woman speaks, her voice distorted by the mask covering her face. The second man joins the fray, aiming his own blaster at the woman. It takes you a moment with his face half in shadow, but as you look at him you realise he’s a clone.

“Let him go” his gruff voice says. He sounds a little different from the other clones.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” the woman responds to him. “If I aim just right I think I could get both your brother and this girl.” You can feel your heart racing but you remind yourself to remain calm.

“Let her go. She hasn’t done anything.”

“Where’s the girl?” The woman hisses. The man with the blaster doesn’t get a chance to respond because the one laying on top of you grabs the woman’s leg and pulls it out from under her, sending her tumbling on top of the two of you. You huff with the extra weight on your legs but it’s gone quickly as the taller man shoves her off and the other one goes to restrain her.

The man rolls off of you and is quick to free your legs.

“Are you alright? You are not likely to be injured but there are high chances that you will be in some sort of shock in response to this situation” the man says as he helps you up. You finally get a good look at him. He is clearly a clone, just like the other man, but his hair is slightly receding and he is wearing large yellow goggles.

“I’m fine. I’m used to stressful situations. I’m a medic. Was- was a medic” you say once you’re standing again. He nods.

“Tech. We gotta go” the other man says. You now realise his face wasn’t in shadows before, rather he has a large tattoo that covers half his face.

The goggled man - Tech - nods and helps his brother with the woman, walking away towards the approaching authorities. You stare down at the broken table and the mess of pastries that are smushed and dirty on the ground.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Your dad rushes over, dropping the crate of pastries he had just grabbed from the speeder.

“We got caught in a bounty hunters crossfire” you explain. Your dad starts grumbling but you ignore him, turning instead to begin cleaning up what’s left of your stall.

About an hour later you’re sweeping up the crumbs left by the dropped pastries, your father had returned home to see if he could find a new table. Most people had been giving you a wide berth. So it surprised you when someone approached. Looking up you saw the goggled clone from earlier.

“You said you were a medic?” He asked. Straight to the point.

“A clone medic on Kamino in fact. You can see why I’m out of a job” you grumble.

“We could use a medic. If you are interested, that is” he says, adjusting his goggles. “It usually falls to me, but there was an incident where I was injured and therefore could not care for the rest of the squad. A designated medic would greatly improve our system.”

“But I don’t know you. And you don’t know me” you point out.

“That is usually the case when starting a job anywhere.”

You don’t say anything.

“Very well. My name is Tech. You already know I’m a clone as you used to treat my brothers. My squad includes me and four others. You already met our sergeant earlier.”

It wasn’t exactly like you to do things on a whim. Usually a lot of planning went on before you made any decision. But you truely missed being a medic.

“Do you work for the empire?” You asked quietly. It was a big risk but neither he or his brother were wearing the white clone armour now or earlier.

“We do not” he answered after a moment’s hesitation. You grin up at him.

“Then sign me up.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #invisible string #the clone wars #tech #omega

68 notes · View notes

arteastica · 4 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

66 notes · View notes

katyawriteswhump · 26 days

Text

power of love, part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Steve’s back in the loggers’ cabin. He’s kissing Eddie stupid, and he’s loving it.

They’re both done with drinking bad beer, and even more done with pretending this thing between them isn’t real. They’ve gotten their arms flung around each other. Steve’s tongue is happily exploring the depths of Eddie’s mouth.

Kissing Eddie is totally unlike any make-out session Steve’s ever known. The scratch of Eddie’s lightly stubbled jaw against his is… Gnnng, mindblowing! Steve slides his knee into Eddie’s lap, wishing Eddie would jump his bones already. When Eddie snags his fingers through Steve’s hair, it sends literal sparks down Steve’s spine. The insistent brush of their lips is actual fire, until…

… it’s all too much. Steve moans with something other than dumb teen passion, and it feels like his head’s gonna explode. That familiar crimson tide washes through his brain, and then…

“Steve?”

Robin’s voice wrenches Steve back to the present. Oh, yeah. They’re wading along some shitty little stream, hidden between high banks. Somehow, while getting lost in memories of that kiss, his feet shifted forward on autopilot.

She’s following behind. “I haven’t heard those woofy search dogs for a while,” she says. “You?”

I’ve not a clue, Robin. My head’s zoning in and out of Christ-knows-what-crazy-ass-shit, and I’ve gotten a boner from daydreaming about Eddie. Which is fading fast, because when I remember I might never get another shot at kissing him for real, I wanna stuff my fist in my mouth and bite down hard.

“Gonna trust you on that one,” he mumbles.

“We can get out of this disgusting drain then?” He shrugs, climbs up the bank to check all’s clear. “See anything we need to worry about?”

“Not sure.” Steve frowns, surveying a few dumped cars and a burned-out trailer. It’s a familiar patch of wasteland, a known hang-out for pretty much every teen in the area. “We’re back in Hawkins already.”

“You’re kidding?” She scrambles up to join him and visibly pales beneath her grime and freckles. “Oh my God. We must’ve travelled at least ten miles. In less than an hour and a half.” She glances at her watch and nods emphatically. “Any explanations, Steve? Any cryptic messages from your water-fairy-godparent?”

“Gimme a break! You’re the one who said we’re off to Magic Camp. At this stage—boom! Whatever! Crazy is to be expected.” He sounds chill. Despite the fear jostling him from every angle over what the hell is happening now? Their gazes lock, and… Jesus, he can read in her manic eyes how her last ragged nerve is about to snap.

“Okay, okay,” she says, “we won’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking."

“Well, I am! One plus side—there’s plenty of nice dry paths leading to Lover’s Lake in that direction.” She points to the wasteland. “Don’t you dare make me get back in the ditch. I am literally wearing duckweed for mascara.”

He considers her suggestion for a few seconds, before that stupid waterfall roars in his head. “Sorry.” He bounces back into the stream. “If we’re believing in this bullshit, then I gotta go the way I get told.”

With the biggest sigh ever, she skids down after him. They paddle onward, hand in hand. She’s shaking weirdly, gasping and gulping, like she’s giggling and crying all at once. Oh, and shivering too. He wants to check she’s okay, but he doesn’t dare speak. Sounds bombard them from every angle, including shouting, maybe a quad bike, and plenty of distant and not-so-distant sirens.

“Look, Robin,” he whispers, when it seems safe. “You’re not in deep shit, like me and Eddie. Maybe you should go home to your mom.”

“Nice thought. Mommy Dearest has probably rented out my room already.”

Steve hums sympathetically, while pausing to mindlessly kick off his trashed sneakers. “If it’s any consolation, when I was reported missing, nobody noticed my parents rushing back.” He’d asked Hopper, casually enough. “I’m guessing they didn’t bother."

“That sucks, though…means we could nip back to your place for a warm shower, clean clothes?”

“Trust me, I’d murder for that. You really should go, but—” The sound of way-too-close voices interrupts him. After a minute longer, shuffling forward, she wrings his fingers crushingly tight.

“Uh, Steve? Look.”

Up ahead, the waterway flows into a culvert. The entrance is barred with a metal grid.

“Oh, thanks a bunch, fairy-guardian-water-spirit-angel-parent,” says Steve. “Great short cut, just great!” A dog growls so close that they startle as one, resulting in a loud splash. He shoves Robin toward the opposite bank. “Go! I’ll try… something.”

“How’s that gonna help?” she hisses, letting him bundle her ahead. “It would be kinda sad if you lightning-fried the dog because it’s not the dog’s fault—"

“Scram, will you? I’ll give it a quick shot—mind the freakin’ dog—and be right behind.”

She scrambles into some bushes at the top, and he prays she keeps going. All he hears is goddamn barking. Christ, can it smell my blood? Still, he has to keep it together and come up with some damn heavy rain, and fast, to destroy her scent as she escapes.

He crouches down, conjures up their recent discussion about parents. Eleven told him to channel anger, so that’s a decent start…

Grrrrrr!

Steve jumps up, whirls about. A foam-flecked mouth snarls at him from the top of the bank. He’s faintly relieved to see the canine owner of this huge and scary mouth is on a leash. Unfortunately, the leash is held by a tall guy in khaki, a semi-automatic tucked at his side.

He shines a flashlight directly in Steve’s face. Steve meekly raises his hands. He’s too stunned for real fright.

“You shouldn’t be here,” says army guy. “Woah, you’re filthy! You got papers?”

“Huh?” Hopper hadn’t been kidding about the military dictatorship.

“Got a name, kid?”

He glances down at his Hellfire Club t-shirt, cringes back into the dazzling beam. “Eddie Munson?”

“Outta the ditch. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Steve doesn’t instantly obey. He’s still trying to figure out if this is really happening, and why exactly he said he was Eddie. To protect him, right? Then Eddie can get clean out of the state. Oh, and because he’s so obsessed with Eddie that he can’t stop thinking about him.

A second later, the dog-handler is in the stream with him. He grabs Steve by the arm, and snaps into a lapel radio: “This is MWD-handler 7. Inform O’Sullivan that fugitive 1 is apprehended.”

…

Eddie POV

The forces dragging Eddie home to Hawkins are suddenly spooking-him-the-hell out.

It’s not all about Steve anymore. He’s hearing water. Loud running water, which draws him toward what turns out to be a nonsensically pathetic-as-piss stream. He jumps in and follows, even as he starts to panic for real.

Steve said he was hearing water. Now I hear it too. What does this mean? Wtf does this BS mean!?!

He presses on anyhow, finding he simply can’t stop thinking about THAT KISS. He’s reliving it over-and-over. At least, the good parts, before Steve fainted on him. Did Eddie daydream the delicious twisty, flirty things that Steve did with his tongue?

Then he’s thinking about Steve’s butt.

You never gave THAT BUTT the squeeze it deserved. Holy shit, Munson, you’re such a loser.

Most torturous of all, the idea that it might be all over between them… Crap, it makes him feel physically ill. How can the idea of losing somebody he never really had hurt so much? Oh, and when the heck did he kick off his sneakers and start wading bare foot? He has absolutely zero memory of doing that. Still, the cold water doesn’t seem to bother him.

As darkness falls, he spots some familiar landmarks, and realises he’s only a mile or so out of Hawkins. Which is also totally cuckoo, because there’s no way he should’ve travelled back so fast. For the first time since he set off, he stops dead.

Reality check, Munson—pretty much everybody in this dump you call home believes you to be a freakshow-turned-serial-killer. And you’ve come storming back for some douchebag rich kid who dumped you.

There is, however, a single good side to his progress into Hell. He pulls out his walkie-talkie out of his pack, switches it on, and tunes into Dustin’s coded wavelength:

“Anybody there? This is a code-red. CODE RED!” Okay, being officially too ‘old’ for the Party, he’s not supposed to say that, but desperate times call for desperate—

“No way! Is that you? Over.”

At Dustin’s reply, some dam deep inside Eddie bursts. His face crumples, and he shamelessly, softly weeps. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy. It’s me.”

“Roger that. What the hell are you doing? This place is overrun with wannabe Nazis.” The hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand suddenly on end, and not because of Dustin’s news. “It’s a warzone. You should be in the next state by now!”

Eddie drops the walkie-talkie and shoves his hands in the air. Some military-fascist-knucklehead is pointing an assault rifle at him, though he’s weirdly numbed to the horror of it all. He honestly hadn’t expected it to feel this inevitable.

“Roger that?” says the walkie-talkie.

Eddie grins, so manically goofy that his face aches.

“Name or papers,” demands the son-of-a-bitch.

“Uuuuuh…” Okay, he’s blown this. Nobody with nothing to hide, blunders THAT answer. “Steve Harrington?”

He said that to protect Steve, right? If they think I’m him, they’ll… torture me instead. Oh shit. Oh Shiiiiiiit!

A big angry dude pummels into Eddie from the side, crushing him into the mud.

Part 16

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know. Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steddie fanfiction #stobin fanfic #platonic stobin #stobin

26 notes · View notes

onlyrains · 8 months

Text

[11:36pm]

— t/w: none

ever since you met todoroki, you haven't been as worried about going home too late. it has become a habit for him to pick you up from work and you both have the best part of your day on the way home. this is somehow a validation that he really loves you.

and today as you have the night shift, your boyfriend picked you up 10 minutes earlier before your shift was over—as always. he greeted you from the window by waving his hand a little then leaned against the glass, showing his back.

“he's here?” your todays partner asked.

you nodded your head. “yeah. you alright?” you looked at his leg, knowing he had tripped on the stairs while trying to place products on the higher shelf an hour ago. you were pretty sure his ankle twisted a bit.

he smiled as he attempted to climb the shelf behind him to stand.

“let me help.” you held onto one of his arm and allowing the other to rest on your shoulder.

“seriously, can you walk?” you asked him once again.

“well, my dorm isn't far from here. i'm okay.” he said then almost fell again one second afterwards.

you sighed and placing his left arm onto your shoulder while your hand on his waist. “can you walk like this?” you asked.

he chuckled and nodded. “yeah, sure.”

“okay, let's go home.”

as the doorbell rang, todoroki turned around and was ready to greet you with the warmest smile, but the sight of his girl embracing another man turned it into a confused frown also causing something strange to happen to his heart.

“hi,” you greeted him. his gaze remained lockedon your hand on your friend's waist and he responded you with nothing.

“i-i think i must go now.” your friend said, letting go of his hand on your shoulder after feeling the tension between him and your intimidating boyfriend.

“but can you?”

“i'll call my sister, don’t worry.” he left limping. it was better for him than having to deal further with todoroki.

“who's he?” you heard a deep voice beside you.

“my partner for today. he's new here.” you replied while showing a smile.

“your partner?”

you nodded. “uhm. for today.” you intertwined your fingers with his and started to walk.

“why was he holding onto you?” he asked, sounds very calm.

“he tripped on the stairs. i think his ankle twisted so he can't walk.”

you heard your boyfriend's heavy sighed, “i don't like him.” he said. his voice was stern but in very low volume.

“huh?” you looked at him. he avoided your eyes by looking straight at the empty street.

“todoroki?” you called him and still, he wasn't answering.

“todoroki, are you okay?”

“i said i don't like him.”

you were taken aback. “why?”

“he held you.”

for a split second you couldn't believe your ear and you couldn't help but letting out a crisp laugh from your mouth. “are you being jealous right now?”

“yes.”

you jumped and hugged him happily. “this is the first time you said you are jealous.”

“well, i have the right since i'm your boyfriend.”

“but you always said that you trusted me tho? don't you trust me now?”

“i don't trust him.” he stated as he pulled his body back and lowered you slowly.

your laughter filled his ears again as you tried to squish his slim cheeks.

“is it that funny to you?” he asked, irritated.

you shook your head quickly. “i'm not laughing cause it's funny. i'm happy. you usually don't act this way so it's kind of… an achievement?”

“oh, it's an achievement to hold another guy in front of me?” he walked ahead of you.

you gasped, almost unsure if he was the todoroki you've dated for the past 7 months or not.

you tried to catch up with his long strides and hugged him from behind. “i think fujio influenced you too much.” you giggled.

“don't talk to me.” he said, cold enough but not enough to freeze your warm hug.

“this is the first time you're being sulky too so i won't let go.” you tightened your arms around his torso. “you have developed so much, baby, i love you.” you added.

he stopped and sighed before releasing your embrace. for a few seconds neither of you made a sound until he turn around and cupping your face.

“i do love you too—it's been too much lately. i can't see you being touchy with anyone but me.” he said while hugged you with the warmest hug ever done in the world. you had never felt a hug like this before. and you could feel him fighting his ego to say this directly to you.

you responded by tightly hugging him and resting your cheek on his shoulder. “ah, can we go home like this?”

“nah, we can't.” he pulled away and intertwined your fingers with his again before you both continued walking.

“will you come to my house then?”

“i won't.”

“will we have a sleepover together?”

“WE WON'T.”

129 notes · View notes

almostwisegalaxy · 1 year

Text

The glory

Ha Do Young x reader

Part 3

Two weeks later

Dong-woon and I left enough clues for Ha Do-yeon's mind to question her child's paternity. Normally he should come today and collect the results. I don't think I'll be there when he comes. I work nights, my shift ends at 8am and I have 30 minutes to drop Chin off at school.

Ha Do Young's point of view

My hands are sweaty and I'm stressed. It's only 6:30 in the morning, but I'm going to the clinic to get the results of this damn test. Find out if Ye-sol is my blood, if my marriage is based on a complete lie. As soon as you arrive, I go to the reception and ask for documents.

“Yes, here are the results of the genetic test, Mr. Thank you for using our services.”

I sat down in the waiting room and decided to open the envelope. I try, but nothing works. My vision is blurry and my hands are shaking. "Excuse me, is there a doctor who can read the results now?" »

"Yes, of course. It's the third door on the right."

When I opened the door, I saw Mr. Yu concentrating on what appeared to be a patient's medical papers.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this early."

“Oh, I'm fine. "What should I do for you?"

"Can you read his results? I'm afraid of misinterpreting them."

"Yes, please sit down."

"These results demonstrate 0% genetic identity between the two individuals."

“………… Thanks, I think I should go..."

Pov pov

Yes but no

he fainted

“Mr Ha, can you hear me?

I have no response. I expected him to be shocked by the news, but not so shocked as to faint. . He should wake up soon, right?

later in the day

It is 10 p.m. when I return to resume work with one of my colleagues. When I left this morning, Mr. Ha couldn't wake up, so I left that to the nurse, and he was very pale, so I asked him to give me an IV. And when I came back to my office, it was still as inert as it was hours ago.

The clinic isn't very busy tonight, so I'm going to see a few patients first. Some get a prescription and leave immediately, while others are kept in a room overnight due to their condition. I will go back to Mr. Ha. I stopped noticing his upper body movements, so I lowered myself to bed level to check for lice. I put my hand on his neck and looked at the clock. Yes, he is breathing quite normally. And at that moment he decided to wake up, put his hands on his neck and looked into mine. From this point of view, it looked like two people about to kiss.

"You're finally awake. I'm starting to worry."

"Why am I here?"

"You came for tests and due to lack of food, I guess you passed out"

He let go of my hand and we both sat down

" What time is it ?"

"11:40 p.m."

He tried to pull the IV out of his hand but I stopped him by putting my hand on it.

"Don't do this, you don't have enough iron and you could fall at any movement"

"You don't understand. I have to fix something at home"

"I know you must be worried about your daughter, but I don't think confronting your wife about it right now is good for your health."

"Because in addition to being a doctor, you are a marriage counselor?" I don't think a single mother knows what to do in this situation!

"Forgive me, I-"

"Okay. Take that needle off if you want so much you hit your face on the next stairs you'll see later. Get out of here" I said as I left the room.

"Miss Yu wait" but there was no time. I slammed the door in his face.

Dong Eun I hope you manage on your side because what I have is rat bowl

I slipped away 2 hours later and found him STILL there, lying staring at the ceiling. Let him do what he wants. I sat in the chair behind the desk, with my back to him, to study the somewhat complicated case of an undiagnosed woman.

Ha Do Young pov

"Miss Yu, I sincerely apologize to you. I should never have talked to you like that, especially since you were trying to help me"

" Hmm"

"And I also apologize for yelling at you. It was anger but I know it shouldn't have been directed at you"

" Hmm "

"You still won't talk to me?"

" Hmm"

"Can I at least ask you a question?"

" Hmm "

"How did you know I took a paternity test?"

"I was wondering what was the cause of your sudden unhealthiness and I got the information from the lab technician"

I say nothing more to collect my ideass. I don't know if I'm angry or sad right now. Well I blame yeon jin for lying to me but I don't know. From the beginning I suspected an extra marital relationship but I didn't dwell on it more than that. After all she fit the but gender standard and my mother had happily given her approval to the wedding announcement so I thought it was already good enough to live out the rest of my life. But I was seriously mistaken.

"What...what would you do if it was you in this situation?"

"I will do everything to keep my child. If eventually I still love him so much"

" But how to do it ?"

"It's simple. I turn his brain over to him in order to acquire proof of any mental instability of my spouse and the other in case he wants to recover the child following the divorce. But after that it's not that the opinion of a mother who raises her child alone does not take it into account "

"Sorry again for-"

" Excuse rejected. What do you think? Raising a child alone is easy? I have no one to trust my son to when I'm not around. I'm carrying my child just to have enough money to give him what he deserves. So I don't allow anyone to judge me. Is that clear?" She is now facing me speaking. I decide to get up to talk to him

"I can't say otherwise. I see how hard you are working for both of you and my words were very inappropriate. I don't know if you could forgive me"

"I think you'd better leave if you feel up to it"

" All right." I gather my things and get ready to leave. " Bye"

After leaving the hospital at dawn, I just went home to change. Ye-sol and her mother are still sleeping. It's better this way, I don't know how it's going to end if we talk. I am working at the moment. I just finished one and I'm so tired. I have too many thoughts swirling around in my head. But I don't want to think about anything. I just want to have my daughter with me, even if she's not really mine.

And this conversation with Ms. Yu ohhh. I hate this tension that has set in. I can understand his reaction to my comment. Basically, I always avoid unnecessary arguments, especially with those around me, so this situation makes me sad.

I decide to pick up Ye-sol from her school to spend some time with her and see if I still love her as much as before. The road from the company to the elementary school passed by the path of Ms. Yu's son Chin, I looked around not expecting to see anything special except for the little one sitting under the tree in front of the school. But what can he be doing at this hour outside. I got out of the car to go see him but noticed a few other kids around him.

"See, I told you. No one will come looking for him because he doesn't have a father."

“Bouu has a little chin without a father bouuu” “yes a bastard”

"Fuck bastards!" They screamed in their hearts but upon noticing me they ran away.

Chin was lying on the ground, his back to me. Looks like they pushed him. He tries not to cry, it shows. I leaned over to him and started a discussion with him.

“Did you hurt my little one?

"No...... Just a little crack on the knee"

"Okay, and can you tell me what you do outside of school?"

"The teacher has to go there urgently. The director called all the parents to come and take us home but mum didn't answer"

"but why aren't you in the yard, safe."

"It's them...... They like to bother me and hurt me. And I don't want to wait with them"

" OK. Uhh how about I take you to see your mom?

"You would do that?"

"Of course. I just need to take my daughter and go. Do you trust me?"

"No, But I Want to See Mom"

"so let's go see her"

I took her hand, bandaged her knee and we were on our way. Once at the hospital, I drove two toddlers across the street. Upon arriving, he knocked on the door and we heard a voice

"Yes who is it?"

"Hello, it's me momma" he says running to throw himself on the mother who has just caught up with him

"Yes and us too" ye-sol greeted her from inside the room

“Hey kids, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class? "

"Madam must have come home early"

"My father came to get me"

"And he scratched his knee" I said

"Pardon ?"

Then she examined his wound, disinfected it and put a bandage on it. Meanwhile, ye-sol fetches snacks from the vending machine further away.

"How did you do that? Honey"

"Other kids push me"

"And why are they doing this?"

"He just likes to annoy me. It's nothing serious, momma."

"No, from what I could see, it's not just adispute. This is harassment", I said

"And maybe you know why he harassed you?" He immediately bowed to his mother's words, as if he had been mistaken.

"Chin answers mom" she told him, she gently grabbed his shoulder "my chick?"

"........They say I'm a bastard......That I don't have a father and that's why I'm going to end my life in school. I'm sorry mom, I know this is wrong. Anyway, I only need you” and he hugs her.

"You don't have to apologize for that. It's not your fault"

Then Ye-sol came back and offered to take the kids to lunch and bring her son back around the afternoon. She agreed and we left her alone. She really needs it.

___________________________________

hey hi. I don't have many ideas to continue the story, so I prefer to wait for season 2 which comes out soon to get an idea. I hope you like the story. and if you have any ideas. Help me

A perfect family 🫣

Part2:

#ha do young #ha do young x reader #moon dong eun #park yeon jin #the glory #the glory kdrama #the glory x reader #ju yeo-jeong

245 notes · View notes

darlingvernon · 1 year

Text

day 11: blizzard [M] | lee jihoon.

↳ the one about jihoon being stuck during a blizzard with the roommate he has the hots for

◇ lee jihoon x female reader ◇ smut | and they were roommates ◇ warnings: explicit sexual content. if i've missed any warnings, please let me know! ◇ 1136 words

authors note: this is for day 11 of @svthub december prompt challenge: blizzard. please let me know what you guys think and send an ask if you'd like to be tagged for the rest of the challenge. i hope you guys enjoy!

another note: roommate!jihoon plagued me for days i'm sorry if this isn't any good

This is a terrible idea.

He knows he should’ve said no when you barged into his room, claiming that you both need to sleep together in the one bed to keep warm now that the power’s out. Logically, he knows that it’s the right choice because you’ll be able to increase your body warmth together, but he also knows that his heart and his body are royally fucked when you shift against him for the nth time.

Fuck this fucking blizzard, he thinks to himself. He would’ve been three hours away from you by now, spending the holidays with his family, if it didn’t come two days earlier than planned.

Now, he has no choice but to spend it with you, the roommate he’s had the hots for, since the blizzard shows no signs of stopping.

Not that he minds, he’s always enjoyed your company after all and honestly, there is no one else he’d rather be stuck in a snowstorm with. But, you in his bed with your hips brushing against his clothed member once more is his own personal hell, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take before he ruins you.

“I need you to stop doing that,” Jihoon whispers through gritted teeth, turning his face to bite at his pillow, trying to keep his composure.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you whine.

It’s when you push your ass further into him and his excitedly growing erection nestles in between your cheeks, that he grips your hips bruisingly tight, holding you still as he growls in your ear, “This is your last warning, stop doing that or else.”

Turning slightly to face him, your lips almost brush against his when you challenge, “Or else what? Are you going to fuck me?”

“What are you talking about?” Jihoon asks, pulling back slightly but you don’t let him get too far, turning in his hold to face him.

“I asked if you’re going to fuck me,” you repeat, hands sliding around his middle and legs tangling with his to pull him closer to you. “Don’t you want to?”

“I—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking,” you lean in, whispering against his lips. “It’s the same way I look at you.”

Jihoon knows what you’re implying but he needs you to confirm it before he gets ahead of himself. “What are you saying?”

“Jihoon, I want you,” you assure him, wrapping your legs tighter around him and your arms moving to lock behind his neck. “Please, fuck me.”

It barely takes Jihoon seconds to search your face for any signs of hesitation and when he finds none, his lips descend to meet yours in a gentle kiss. It’s you who tilts your head, deepening the kiss and he’s more than happy to oblige when your tongue swipes at his bottom lip.

As your kisses grow heated, so does his hunger, and it doesn’t take long for him to shift your bodies, situating himself between your legs as you lie beneath him. Pulling away for a moment, he grabs the back of his shirt and slips it off his head, flinging it across the room without a care and helps you take yours off too.

His eyes roll back when your naked chest comes into view and thanks his lucky stars that there’s one less obstacle in his way. A moan comes from deep within his chest as he takes your breast into his mouth, tongue laving at the pert nipple. As he kitten licks at your wetted bud, his right hand gropes at your other breast, twisting and pinching your pointed nipple between his index finger and thumb.

When a wanton moan of his name spills from your lips, echoing through the four walls of his bedroom, his clothed cock grows bigger, poking deliciously at your centre. Jihoon decides then that savouring you can wait until later and he quickly rids himself of his pants and boxers before lifting your legs up in the air and pulling the rest of your clothing off.

The grip on his cock is tight as he strokes himself, guiding the head to push past your sopping wet folds and into your welcoming trove. His hands find their place behind your knees, pushing until they’re pinned on the mattress beneath you and he inches slowly but surely inside you, only stopping once his hips meets your ass and his cock is grazing that sweet spot you can barely reach with your fingers.

Delighted at your erratic pants and desperately needy whines, Jihoon barely holds himself back as your pulsating walls accommodate him. He laughs at your feeble attempt to roll your hips against him alerting him that you’re ready for more. Sitting up on his knees, he pulls out painstakingly slow until only the tip of his cock is left inside you, taking a deep breath before he harshly thrusts back into you, making your breasts jiggle with the force.

With a grunt, he draws back and repeats his motions, keeping his pace but driving harder into you each time, so much so that his bed scrapes the wood of the floor and the headboard continuously knocks on the wall. Gasping for more, you can only hang onto the sheets in purchase to stop yourself from sliding up the bed.

Eager to see your first orgasm of the night, made by him and only him, he releases his hold on one of your legs and raises it to rest over his left shoulder while he wraps your other leg around him. Garbled noises escape you when he leans closer and reaches a depth inside you that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

His right hand snakes up your body, squeezing your breast before it travels further up, grabbing hold of the headboard and his left thumb meets your swollen clit, rubbing furiously against it in contrast to the way he’s still driving into you.

“Jihoon, I— I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna come, I—”

It’s when he angles his hips that he caresses the spot that has you seeing exploding stars behind your eyelids, careening clean off the edge as you reach your high, orgasm hitting like a tsunami as his name spills from your lips like a mantra. It takes everything within him to stave off his own climax, wanting to have his way with you until it drives him to depravity.

When your breathing finally settles and your eyes open, he lightly kisses you once, twice, three times and shoves his tongue in your unsuspecting mouth on the fourth.

“I hope you’re not feeling tired yet,” Jihoon smirks, “because we’re not nearly warm enough. I’m going to make you feel hotter and fucking devour you.”

[ Challenge Master List ] - link to be added at a later date!

TAGLIST: @teamwangs

pls do not copy/repost my work

328 notes · View notes

terror-slut · 2 years

Note

11/10 will be patiently sitting and waiting for another chapter of “Change of Heart”. that man has me WHIPPED and the way you wrote him!? absolutely captivating. <33

Change of Heart

Chapter 02/?? click HERE for this fic’s masterlist!

Reader is a troubled pediatrician at Hawkins lab when she crosses paths with this lovely orderly. Nothing will stand between Peter and his revenge. Not even really pretty distractions.

Pairing: Peter Ballard x f!reader

Word count: 1403

Ratings & warnings: SPOILERS, period typical sexism, violence, blood, NSFW, swearing, no (Y/N). Ratings may change as chapters are being added.

A/N: bit of a backstory on the reader and more character building for these two <3 I also made a little playlist, check it out if you’d like. Also, I will be updating this fic bi-weekly!

Thick, visceral silence fills the hallway as they stare at one another. Him, all long limbs and easy going smiles, clad in the same uniform as always. Her, caught like a deer in headlights in nothing but a pastel nightgown.

“What? You’ve never seen a girl in a nightgown before?” Her tone is cold when she breaks the silence, but he can tell the pediatrician is nervous by the way she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and doesn’t dare to look the tall orderly straight in the eye.

“I have. Just not in here,” his reply has her roll her eyes in the back of her head, but Peter watches the slightest blush creep upon her cheeks. How amusing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, doctor, but your shift ended hours ago.”

“Yes, it has,” she is purposefully being evasive, her walls are right back up and stronger than ever after Peter smothered her request earlier that day.

Certain that the door she opened for him prior remains ajar, he reminds himself that surrender is not something that comes to him naturally.

“And yet, you’re still here,” a soft smile graces his lips, signaling that there is no bad intent behind his questions, only curiosity. “Why?”

She sighs, taking in the lanky figure of the orderly in front of her. He towers over her, much taller than she herself is. His hands are folded neatly behind his back like always and despite her indecently dressed body and his fully dressed frame, he keeps a respectable distance between the two of them.

She’s never thought of him as anything but friendly, the way he greets her like clockwork despite her insistence on ignoring her coworkers. And although he shut down her request, she knows he cares for the kids at Hawkins lab. Peter Ballard might be the most trustworthy guy in the entire facility. Really, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

“If I tell you, can we get out of this hallway? There’s cameras everywhere and I don’t need my business discussed like it’s the morning news,” He nods, blond hair falling in sync with the incline of his head.

“I will follow your lead, doctor.”

And so, they arrive back at her office, though it looks more like a makeshift bedroom now. On the floor lies a sleeping pad meant for camping trips, and her uniform is neatly folded and placed on the chair where 015 was sitting earlier that day. On her desk stands an electric kettle and a few dishes, ready to be used.

Peter quietly watches as she puts a large cardigan on over her nightgown before facing him again. His arms are crossed in front of his chest now, and her desk supports his frame as he leans against it.

“Tea?” She’s stalling. He shakes his head.

“I’m more interested in you than I am in tea,” the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile when she tries to hide her reddened cheeks for the second time that night. How easy she is to coax. “Don’t you have a loving husband to return home to? Why is it that you’re still here, when it’s nearly midnight?”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce. Die.

That comment seems to set her off, her face brewing up a storm.

“Please, don’t. That is the festering root of my all my problems,” she scoffs, walking over to the desk where Peter’s tall frame is leaning against.

“Your husband?”

A bitter laugh escapes her.

“I’m happily unmarried, Peter,” she explains, lifting herself up upon the desk. He scoots over to give her the space to sit without breaking eye contact.

“But ever since my mother passed, my father is hell bent on finding me a man,” now her guard is lowered, but her fingers are still anxiously tying themselves in knots, Peter notices.

“He wants me to marry a man who can provide for me. He was always against the whole med school thing, but my mother had my back. I graduated some time ago, and my mother passed away not long after,” she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of him, afraid of what he might say or think of her.

“He’s old school. He believes women belong in the kitchen and going to university and having a job is just my rebellious phase until I settle down,” she scoffs.

“I would rather die, Peter,” the tone of her voice is so genuine that something deep inside his chest reacts to her words. His lungs seem to expand further against his ribcage and something warm and unfamiliar slashes aggressively, needy, at the base of his belly.

“I would rather die,” she repeats, “than live the life my mother lived. I’d prefer death over having my academic aspirations squashed because I’m busy cooking dinner for a husband who doesn’t see me as a person, raising kids I never wanted and cleaning up after them every single day. Even the idea makes me nauseous.”

“When I told him I wanted to specify in pediatrics, he laughed at me. He said my maternal instinct won after all. God, I was so angry I considered changing my mind.” the memory of it boils her blood all over again until Peter squeezes her clenched fist with his cool hand. He weaves his fingers through hers until her hand relaxes in his. Only then, he lets go.

“What happened today?” He asks.

“He arranged a date for me, tonight. Some desperate old fool who gets off on the thought of having a younger wife,” the tone of her voice is bitter, but he can detect something else in there.

Fear.

“I couldn’t go, Peter,” she says. He understands.

“My dad and I had a fight this morning, right before I left. He told me if I didn’t show up tonight, I shouldn’t bother coming home at all. Ever again,” a shakey sigh leaves her lips. “Dr. Brenner said it was okay for me to use the office, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll face my dad again. But right now, I just need some time to recharge.”

Eat. Sleep. Work. Reproduce? Live.

She softly bumps his shoulder with her own when he stays silent like he has for most of her rant. Worry settles in her bones.

“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think badly of me, now. I don’t even think… I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” she carefully slides off the desk to create some space between herself and the orderly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said… anything.”

“You shouldn’t worry about what I think,” her shoulders loosen a bit when the words leave his mouth.

“Or what anyone else thinks. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re a magnificent young woman,” he, too, takes a step away from the desk and towards her, overcome with the sudden urge to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, he digs the heels of his shoes in the solid tiles of her office floor in an attempt to ground himself.

“You shouldn’t have to conform to anyone else’s idea of who you are,” his voice is so soft and his words nearly addictive. She could hear him speak for hours upon hours.

“You don’t think it’s selfish?” she asks, frowning in disbelief at his opinion on the matter.

“It is never selfish to choose yourself, doctor,” he cocks his head to the side and sends her the same comforting smile he gave her earlier, and this time, she smiles back.

“Thank you,” she says, while taking a step closer to him. The cardigan she had put on earlier is starting to slip off her shoulder, and she’s so close now that he can feel her breathing on his face. She smells like pomegranate and lemongrass and he wants to touch her now, find out if her skin is really as soft as it looks, if every part of her is as pretty as he imagines it to be.

“No need to thank me,” he says instead. The fabric of her cardigan is soft against his touch when he slips it back up her shoulder, covering her from his wandering gaze.

“My point still stands,” she then says.

“And what point is that?” he asks.

“You are a good guy, Peter.”

Taglist: @sunweee @ancientbeing10 @njutul

Lmk if you want to be added/removed to the tag list!

512 notes · View notes

genderkoolaid · 2 years

Text

Article from 11/5/22

The first time I had a pregnancy scare was shortly before 2020, when I was in my early 20s. I googled how to access plan B and was surprised and relieved at how easy the process was. I felt some resentment too: I shouldn’t have been surprised. That was what feminists and activists before me had fought for. Easy and affordable access to reproductive care. I entered the details required to place the order, and within minutes I received a cancellation notification on my phone. Assuming an error, I tried again; the money was still pending on my card. It was canceled for a second time. I called my best friend, asking to borrow money to buy some medication. At that point, almost 24 hours had passed, and I knew I would have to wait the following day to head to the pharmacy. After the third order was canceled, I started panicking. I knew the chances of being pregnant were low, given my medical history, but the thought of needing an abortion was scary. I knew I could access it fairly easily, should I need to. I knew my partner would come with me, and be supportive. I knew my best friend could drive me there. I finally got an email from the pharmacy, explaining why the orders had been canceled: “We cannot sell plan B to men, please ask your partner to order her medication directly.” Needless to say, my partner in this case had no use for plan B. Nor could they have ordered it on my behalf. I didn’t expect similar feelings – the same pain, fear, frustration – to emerge again recently, even more violently. My partner – transgender as well – was lying next to me in bed, browsing social media, when they suddenly stopped and looked at me. “They’re overturning Roe.” was all they said. It took me a moment to understand what they meant. Even longer to understand what that would mean in the upcoming days. Once again, I felt my body paralyzed with horror. But I still had to look it up myself, so I started reading tweets, articles, and news – all the “No uterus, no opinion,” “Stand with women,” and “Protect women’s health” slogans. It’s hard to describe the pain of feeling excluded by a problem that’s still affecting you. There is a fine line between combating erasure and being worried your experience will be used to distract from that problem. As a trans man, I need access to abortion and contraception, whether they’re labeled for women or not. But erasure runs deeper than semantics, and it’s rarely accidental. Following the Roe v. Wade leak, a great part of the debate has shifted to the language used when discussing abortion. Part of it is aimed at including trans men and non-binary people who might have a uterus, engage in penetrative sex, don’t have access to contraception, or have to terminate wanted pregnancies for health reasons. The connection between reproductive rights and equal rights for the LGBTQ community has always been clear, both from community involvement and legislation, but we’re only just starting to see the harm of describing abortion as a women’s rights issue. Overturning Roe v. Wade is not just a women’s issue. Framing it as such not only erases transgender and non-binary people who might need access to it, but also fails to recognize the threat it poses to body autonomy. It creates a concerning precedent by restricting agency in healthcare by targeting specific minorities. Personal interest in this conversation shouldn’t be the leading argument: there are women (cisgender and transgender) who cannot get pregnant who are still pro-choice; there are disabled people who have been advocating for body autonomy since before Roe v. Wade was introduced; there are BIPOC who have historically faced violence and reproductive health disparities.

#m.#examples of transandrophobia #reproductive justice #abortion #birth control #roe vs wade

564 notes · View notes

shelbeanie · 1 year

Text

I let myself go wild while remaking my Collector cosplay! Thank you so much @DanaTerrace and your team, I had so much fun over analyzing all the little details in the show to try and incorporate into this!

I’m also going go to do a breakdown the 60 hours of work over 2 weeks that went into it because I had to speed up everything! My initial design. I ended up changing the design in one side to mimic the grain pattern on the other side, but all of the little details and the color shift are high key my favorites parts

I was dead set on the fabric shifting between Navy/Plum and Silver/lilac. I’m fairly certain I willed these fabrics into existence because they were almost impossible to find. I had a back up plan of navy and silver velvet if it didn’t work out, which I will likely still make

I wanted to add texture to the costume. Little details you wouldn’t notice at a distance but up close you could see all of the tiny hidden intricate details. My initial design was a quilted pattern but it priced very hard to digitize. I wanted to maximize the space I could cover while mimimizing the time spent so I created a second design. That one was further simplified down to save time. Each pattern piece has 15 panels, 25 min each

The alternate side was originally supposed to have diamonds on it, but those proved difficult to digitize and difficult to line up, they just didn’t look as good as I had hoped. I redesigned it so that the lines imitates the grain of the dark purple/crossed the grain. Much better

I also has to trim all of the strings to clean it up and trim the backing. Next time I do something like this I will use water soluble backing. This side had 15-20 panels (I lost count) at 25 min each with 3 bridging patches to help make the pattern look natural.

The sleeves have 6 designs per sleeve and the zigzag design. I wanted the zig zags to be interlocking titan skulls, each one took 7 min (11 per sleeve). There are 3 different moons with a collector hidden in each. The suns are the sign of the huntsman. Each sun/moon took 30 min. I also added the titans from the title card boarder to my collar

The hat dot/constellations are in the opening. I had to add a couple more by hand to fill in blank spaces. The hat is lined and the lining/boarder are attached via a satin stitch. I finished most edges with a satin stitch.

I have hit my limit on pictures but I’m not finished, so I am going to have to do a follow up post with the rest of the details, check the reposts for it!

#the owl house #the owl house cosplay #the owl house collector #the collector #the collector toh #the collector the owl house #costume design #costume details #redesign #over the top #disney

163 notes · View notes

bellofthemeadow · 10 months

Text

The Road Ahead - ch 7 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 9K (Again, I have no excuses)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: What is left of you and Frankie and is it possible to rebuild after everything that has happened between you two?

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you again to everyone who liked, commented or reblogged the earlier chapters of this series it means the world to me that you all enjoy this! I also wanted to apologized because this took way longer to write than I anticipated, and I wasn't able to have it ready by Sunday like I thought. This is kind of bittersweet as it is almost the end of this story, only the epilogue will be left after this. I wasn't sure which direction to take with it, but I hope you will all enjoy where I've taken Frankie and his cielo. Love you all so much <3 <3 <3

One Day at a Time

Frankie follows two steps behind his mother, his arms full of paper grocery bags, while Alma opens the door of the old yellowish one-story home where Frankie grew up. "Por favor, coloca los comestibles en el mostrador," she requests. "Sí, mamá," Frankie replies. He puts the groceries down and wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead. The Floridian humidity has been killing him today.

Alma flutters back into the room like the 72-year-old tornado she is, this time with her arms full of seedlings, and she passes Frankie. "Y coloca la pizza congelada en el congelador," she instructs. "Sí, sí, no te preocupes, yo lo tengo." Frankie knows he was being short with his mother; his words were more biting than they should have been, especially since Alma allowed him to come back home after his stint in rehab. Shame creeps up his neck at his dry tone when his mother turns toward him. "Mamá…" However, Alma doesn't say anything. She approaches Frankie, softly grabs him by the shoulder, bringing him down to her level, and engulfs him in a tight hug that still makes him feel like a little boy after all these years. "Lo siento, Francisco. I don’t mean to boss you around Mijo. You know how mamas are." "Lo siento, Mamá. I didn’t mean to snap at you." Mother and son embrace in the middle of the kitchen, the full light of the afternoon sun illuminating the kitchen.

“Tell me what’s on your mind mijo. Are you not going to see Estrelita this afternoon? That always cheer you up.”

“Si. Once I put the groceries away, I am picking her up from Mrs. Hu and we’ll spend the rest of the day together.”

“And what about her mother?” Frankie lets out a sigh.

"We're going for lunch tomorrow. It's her first day off in a while, and honestly, the first day she won't be working an 11-hour shift. This new job is really working her to the bones.”

Since Frankie left rehab five days ago, he hadn't been able to see you. And it was eating at him, consuming him from the inside. He had already missed you so much these past few months, but now those added days were plain torture. You had talked briefly over the phone on the first night Frankie was back in his childhood home to arrange how he could see Ella in the upcoming days. The initial conversation had been awkward, to say the least. You had tentatively asked Frankie how he was feeling now that he was back, how rehab went, did he feel any different from before. Frankie had tried to be as forthcoming as possible, but he knows that over the phone he probably sounded like the stilted mess he felt like. But he tried, without the comfort of the routine rehab had provided, he was feeling anxious and tired. Rehab had gone as well as it could, although he was lonely and missed his family. You had taken a breath upon hearing his answer. He didn't feel that different, except for developing a newfound love for licorice as a by-product of sobriety. You had laughed at that, a breathy and airy laugh, as if you had been holding it in during the entire four months he was away. Frankie was overjoyed to hear he could still make you laugh, and he was tempted to do a victory dance in his old bedroom, between the posters of Top Gun and a young Winona Ryder.

After a moment had passed, a comfortable silence settled between you both, and Frankie had asked how you and Estrella were doing. Your voice sounded tired and sad over the phone. Frankie could picture you sitting on the edge of the bed, chewing on your bottom lip. Apparently, Ella was doing as well as a seven-month-old could be, although you were certain she was missing her daddy (Frankie's heart clenched at that thought). On the other hand, you were currently overwhelmed. You apologized for not being able to be there when he left rehab, and Frankie could hear the guilt seeping through your words. He was quick to reassure you, saying, "Don't worry about that, it wasn't much fun waiting for me to be cleared. It took almost two hours, it's not important." Your voice echoed in a quiet whisper that Frankie almost didn't catch: "It's important to me." Unsure of how to respond, he settled on humming softly.

You continued, explaining the reason for your absence. Apparently, the library at Florida University, while state-of-the-art, wasn't immune to flooding. You had spent the last three days knee-deep in water, trying to salvage the book collection, and you had been working almost eleven-hour days. You referred to it as a "nice little welcome gift." You told Frankie that by next week, you would finally be able to return to a normal work schedule, and you could see each other then. In the meantime, you assured Frankie that he could see Ella anytime and that you would clear it with Mrs. Hu to allow Ella to go with him. Although Frankie would have much preferred coming home to you and Ella, he understood why it was better for everyone involved that he stayed with his mother for a little bit. “Take care to not take it personally, it’s not against you personally. It’s important now to go at your wife’s pace. Take the time to show her how far you’ve gone, and allow time for you both to rebuild the trust that was broken” his therapist had said.

Nonetheless, Frankie was heartbroken upon learning that he wouldn't be able to see you for a couple more days. He had so much to tell you, so much to share, and so much to apologize for. But he could hear the exhaustion and stress in your voice. A baby, a new job, and a flood all at once? Frankie knew he would have needed more than cocaine to get through all of that. So instead, he murmured encouragement, "Don't worry about me, I'll take Ella during the day and spend some quality time with her. Gotta make sure she didn’t forget me, you know." The joke didn't land, and only a sniffle answered him. "I'll see you next week, take care of yourself, all right?" Frankie attempted to finish the conversation with his usual "I love you" but the line disconnected before he could get a word in edgewise.

Frankie flopped onto his bed, his eyes landing on the helicopter model on his bedside table, and he took a deep breath. He repeated the counting exercise, 1-2-3-3-2-1, five times. Grounding himself. It wasn't fair that you couldn't be there for the conversation he had dreamed of and meticulously rehearsed for the past three weeks, but life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that you were married to a cocaine addict either, but what could one do? Frankie would wait for you, and for now, he would make sure to see Ella every day, creating memories with her and catching up on everything he had missed. Maybe at some point down the line, she would also crawl with him as she had done with you and Benny.

So, in the meantime, Frankie was back home with his mother. He tried to take on most of the household chores so as to contribute as much as he could. At the same time, he spent a lot of his evenings browsing online, searching for ways to appeal his suspension. He came across a recommendation for a lawyer who had served in the military back in 2002 and seemed willing to help him on that front. Will apparently knew the guy and according to him, he was legit. So, for the first time in a while, it looked like things were starting to look up for him.

Otherwise, Frankie devoted his afternoon to spending time with his little Estrelita. Without fail, every day at 1 pm, he would drive back to your home and knock on Mrs. Hu's door. This daily ritual was something he held onto tightly, never willing to miss a single visit. The anticipation would build as he waited for the door to swing open, and a rush of excitement and joy would flood his heart each time he caught a glimpse of Ella. However, no moment could ever compare to the overwhelming surge of emotions that nearly toppled him when he first laid eyes on Ella when he finally passed the two large doors of the Rehab facility 5 days ago.

Although you couldn't be there in person, you were adamant that Ella should be there to welcome Frankie back. So, you enlisted Will's help to bring Ella and make it a special moment. You provided Will with a detailed list of instructions, ensuring everything would be taken care of. In preparation, you gave him enough bottled milk to last at least two days, just in case, and a bag filled with Ella's favourite plush toys. You made sure Will was comfortable and capable of changing Ella if necessary, and he approached the task with the precision and efficiency of the military man he once was.

When Frankie swung open the wide entrance doors, his eyes were immediately drawn to Pope, who was making exaggerated arm movements, and Benny, who was jumping up and down like an excited child, holding a large sign that read "Kick the habit" adorned with an excessive amount of glitter. Although deeply touched by his brothers' enthusiastic welcome, it was the sight of Will, holding little Estrelita in his arms, that truly overwhelmed him. Frankie dropped his bags and sprinted towards them without hesitation. Scooping Ella into his arms, he held her delicately and pressed his tear-streaked face close to hers, unable to contain his emotions. Ella, for her part, displayed remarkable patience and giggled at the man holding her, tugging at his unruly brown curls and cooing happily. Frankie nestled his nose atop Ella's soft, damp head, his heart overflowing with a mixture of joy, longing, and remorse. He fought back the tears threatening to escape, determined to be strong for his precious Estrelita. After a few moments of simply holding her close, he found his voice, albeit choked with emotion, and whispered brokenly, "Papa missed you so much, Estrelita. My little princesa, papa is never going to leave you again. Te amo, Ella. Papa and mama love you so much."

As Frankie poured his heartfelt words into the air, a subtle shift occurred within Ella. Her eyes, previously filled with amusement, now glimmered with a glint of recognition. She seemed to respond to the familiar voice that had serenaded her during those long months, a voice that carried enchanting stories and was always brimming with love. Papa's voice was like a warm embrace that had the power to banish any lurking monsters from her world. It brought her solace and comfort, reminding her that she was cherished beyond measure.

Frankie found himself unable and unwilling to let go of Ella, holding her tightly for a solid 15 minutes before she started to fuss. Coming to the rescue, Will rummaged in the enormous pink bag you had packed for him and produced a bottle of milk, passing it to Frankie. Frankie sat down on the steps in front of the rehab center and fed Ella, cherishing this long-awaited moment of closeness after four months apart. The rest of the boys gathered around, expressing their sheer happiness at seeing their old friend, bombarding him with a flurry of questions. Did he feel better? Did he see God in there? Were the nurses hot? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much did he want cocaine now? Despite the barrage of inquiries, Frankie couldn't divert his attention from the little miracle nestled in his arms. In that moment, nothing else existed except his Estrellita.

Then came the time to head home. Frankie's heart was brimming with a mix of emotions as he prepared to leave the rehab center, his precious Estrelita nestled securely in his arms. As they walked towards the car, Pope couldn't contain his joy any longer, and with a hearty slap on Frankie's back, he exclaimed, "Fish, so glad to see you've ditched that half-dead corpse look. Cocaine was definitely not your colour." Frankie, caught off guard by the sudden impact, instinctively pushed Pope's arm back with the one that wasn't cradling Ella. An amused smile played on his lips as he retorted, "Pendejo,"

"Hey, no swearing in front of the baby," Benny exclaimed with a touch of melodrama, pretending to cover Ella's ears. Her ear-piercing giggle filled the air, bringing a smile to everyone's faces. Frankie narrowed his eyes, and before he could give Benny a piece of his mind, Will stepped in, playfully knocking Benny on the head. "Come on, you know the baby doesn't speak Spanish, so it doesn't count, right, Fish?" he said. "Right.” Frankie levelled a hard stare at Benny, “I’m not planning on making a habit of swearing in front of my baby," Frankie assured.

Benny finally sensed that something was amiss, he took a deep breath and kicked his shoe against a rock, sending it flying toward the row of cars. "I was just saying..." he grumbled. Frankie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently counted to himself. Opening his eyes again, he was greeted by Ella's sleepy face. He smiled before gently tracing the contours of her small face with his finger. "Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for all you have done," Frankie vulnerably said, his voice filled with heartfelt gratitude.

And then Frankie was home. Well, not his true “Home." Not the home you both built and where you both made memories. The home where you started a family together. It wasn't the sanctuary where he felt the most happiness. But for now, his childhood bedroom with dated 90’s posters and marine carpeting would have to suffice. Until tomorrow that is when he would finally get to see you again. As Frankie meticulously arranged the last of the groceries in their designated spots, he instinctively reached for his phone and noticed a message notification from you. With a sense of anticipation, he double taps the message, eager to consume your words as if he had been starved from you and every morsel you were 0willing to give him would bring him back to life.

"Hey, hope your day went well. Just wanted to confirm that tomorrow at 10 am was still good for you? I have time for a small break, so I wanted to make sure Mrs. Hu is still available to take care of Ella on Saturday.”

Frankie's heart skipped a beat as he read your message, his eyes scanning each word with a mix of excitement and longing. In an instant, his fingers danced across the screen, his response punctuated by an urgency to reassure you of his commitment. "Still all good, and don't worry, I'm on my way to pick up Ella right now. I'll personally confirm with Mrs. Hu, so you don't have to take time off your break. Knowing you, I know you haven’t eaten anything today. Make sure you do please, mi cielo.”

As Frankie anxiously awaited your reply, stressing that he had been too forward, maybe he should apologize. The three familiar bubbles appeared, signalling your typing. His pulse quickened, his mind racing with thoughts of what you might be saying. The bubbles vanished and reappeared, teasing him with their fleeting presence. Finally, your message materialized on the screen, bringing a strange mix of relief and dread. "Perfect, thank you, Frankie. I appreciate it. Give a good smooch to Ella from me. See you tomorrow.”

Frankie's eyes lingered on your message, his mind briefly wandering to the unspoken words that you might have wanted to say to him. Did him using your nickname bother you? Did you not want Frankie to check on you anymore? Had he overstepped boundaries, slipping back too quickly into the role of the husband when maybe you weren't ready or didn't want that anymore? Tomorrow could be the day when you would let him down gently, he thought. Knowing you, you would handle it with kindness, expressing how your love for him had changed, making it clear that co-parenting was the extent of what you were willing to offer now. He wouldn’t blame you for it.

Frankie felt it in the blink of an eye—the overwhelming urge that surged through his entire being. It was like a bolt of electricity coursing through his veins, threatening to consume him. He closed his eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and silently counted to himself. 1.2.3, 3.2.1. Yet, the tension remained, refusing to be easily dismissed. He needed to ground himself, to anchor his spiralling thoughts. Five things he could smell, five things he could see, five things he could feel—Frankie went through the exercise, trying to find solace in the present moment. It provided only temporary relief.

Feeling the weight of his unease, he instinctively made his way to the top drawer of the kitchen. Opening it with a hint of roughness, he reached for an unopened bag of licorice. Grabbing a handful, he popped three pieces into his mouth, savouring the strong anise flavour as it traversed down his throat, almost burning in its intensity. It provided a fleeting sense of comfort, easing the edges of his turmoil.

Glancing at the time, Frankie realized it was almost 1 pm. He couldn't afford to delay any longer if he wanted to maintain Ella's well-established routine. You had always emphasized the importance of routine for babies since the moment you found out about the pregnancy, and Frankie wasn't about to fuck that up. So today he would spend time with Ella, give her all the love he possibly can. Then tonight, when everyone sleeps, Frankie knows he’ll dream of you, as he has for the past 4 months.

__________________________________________________________

The next day, 9h35 am

You sit in a cozy booth tucked away in the corner of a charming diner. From the moment you entered, you could feel that distinctive "Instagram vibe" floating in the air. It was clear that every aspect of the place had been meticulously arranged to appear mismatched, deliberately striving for an eclectic aesthetic to preserve the nostalgia of the old-fashioned diner. Yes, you thought to yourself, gentrification was at work here. Even a grand flower wall greeted visitors at the entrance, complete with a petite park bench—a perfect spot for capturing that perfect profile picture.

This wasn't the usual scene you and Frankie frequented. He was always camera-shy, and you weren't particularly inclined toward social media. Nonetheless, you sought out this neutral ground, guided by the Google reviews that promised private booths—a perfect setting for the long-overdue discussion with your husband.

You scan the surroundings, taking in the vintage posters and old photographs adorning the walls. The mismatched furniture and worn-out booths in shades of blues and oranges catch your attention, loud but not too overwhelming. It's like magic, this hipster vibe, you think. You try to catch a glimpse of the menu on the blackboard near the counter, but since you requested the quietest booth, sacrificing the view makes sense.

You always order the same thing anyway: a large latte with almond milk if they have it, with a touch of hazelnut. Frankie, on the other hand, goes for a black Americano with five shots of espresso, like the maniac he is. He would often playfully tease you about your choice, mocking that it wasn't "real coffee" if it needed to be drowned in milk and sugar. In response, you would scrunch your nose, adopting a faux haughty tone, and retort, "I don’t take food advice from someone who considers beer as its own food group” Like clockwork, Frankie would seize you, pulling you close, and plant a passionate kiss on your lips, whispering, "Sweet, just like you, my love."

A rush of nostalgia washes over you as you close your eyes, relishing the memory. Glancing at your watch, you note the time: 9:40. Knowing Frankie's punctuality, he would be arriving any moment now. In your shared understanding, being 15 minutes early was on time, being on time was considered late, and the mere thought of being late was inconceivable.

As you anxiously fold napkins into little origami birds, the distinct voice of your husband reaches your ears, engaging in conversation with the barista at the counter. "One Americano, five shots, and one large latte with almond milk and three pumps of hazelnut," he orders. Your head twists instinctively in the direction of the sound, and in that moment, your eyes lock with Frankie's. It's as if time had stalled, and Frankie, looking like his namesake, is like a fish out of water. The sight of you completely disorients him, leaving him breathless as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs. Or rather, the water from his gills.

You fare no better. Seeing Frankie like this, looking so good—better than you've seen him in some time—sends a shot straight to your heart. You're happy to see him looking so well, but at the same time, a twinge inside whispers meanly in your ears, "You couldn't help him get himself here. You don't deserve Frankie like this; he deserves better than the scraps you can offer. He'd only stay for Ella, anyway." The voices are harsh, leaving you on unsteady ground.

You look down at the table, trying to silence the voice. "He remembers my coffee order. That ought to mean something," you think to yourself. The voice let’s out a cruel chuckle as if to say, "Sure, keep telling yourself that." Now, it resembles your mother's voice, and you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought. You don't want to have a complete meltdown in the coffee shop on the very first day you get to see your husband again. You already feel bad enough that you couldn't be there when he left rehab. "What kind of wife am I?" Your heart breaks. "A shitty one," your mother's voice answers with fake saccharine sweetness.

After composing yourself, you raise your eyes again toward Frankie, who seems frozen in front of you. The torment of seeing him so close, yet still out of reach after four long months, feels like a form of exquisite torture. Your hands weakly wave in his direction, accompanied by a shy smile. Shyness—an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to Frankie; in fact, it's quite the opposite of the easiness that marked even the beginning of your relationship. Frankie always felt like your home, and to feel so uncomfortable with yourself is a feeling you are rather unused to having with your husband.

After enduring a couple of excruciating minutes, Frankie finally approaches you, skillfully balancing a tray with your two drinks and two muffins. A smile escapes your lips, appreciating Frankie's thoughtfulness once again. He places the tray on the table with a resounding thump, causing the dark liquid of his Americano to threaten an escape from the oversized mug. Frankie's face flushes with a cute red hue as he stammers awkwardly, "I got you your usual coffee. I figured you wouldn't stop loving hazelnut in your coffee in 4 months." Regret etches itself onto his face, and he continues, "Not that there would be anything wrong with that. You can change your mind. You can get what you..." His words trail off as self-doubt seeps in, "I should have asked. I shouldn't have just assumed. I can go back and order something else..."

"Frankie!" The sound of your voice interrupts his rambling. "Hazelnut is great, as I always tell you. It's the..." Before you can finish your sentence, Frankie jumps in, completing it with a small smile, "Superior nut."

"I also got a blueberry and a carrot muffin. You can take whichever you want," he offers. You return the smile, playfully teasing, "I know for a fact you want that blueberry muffin, Francisco Morales." You look back at Frankie with a wide grin, continuing, "It’s almost as if you knew that carrot is my favourite, so I’d leave blueberry for you." Frankie’s answer is his signature sheepish smile as he plucks the blueberry one from the tray and dugs into his muffin. You do the same, meticulously separating the top of the muffin from its bottom and creating little nibbles of carrot goodness.

After a beat, you kindly offer, "You look good, Frankie. Really good, actually. I'm genuinely glad to see you looking so well." Frankie's smile widens to the point where it could blind you. "Thank you," he says with gratitude. "I've been working really hard, but I think it paid off you know. I do feel better.” Frankie stops, chewing his lips as if he thinking what to say next, “I won't lie to you; rehab was really hard, one of the hardest things I’ve done. And it's still challenging, there are days that seem insurmountable. But at least now, I understand what I was doing wrong— not seeking help, being stubborn, thinking I could handle everything on my own." As he speaks, he places his hand on top of yours, which rests on the side of the table. "Not talking to you will always be my biggest regret.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you feel your palm growing clammy under his touch. Yet, you resist the urge to pull away, aware that it might be the wiser choice. Frankie has just opened the door to start talking about everything that has transpired in the last couple of months and everything that lies ahead in the coming years. But you're uncertain if you're ready for that conversation. Once you start talking, it becomes undeniably real. The decisions you make today will shape the future for you, Frankie, and Ella. The weight of that responsibility bears down on you, leaving you feeling both anxious and overwhelmed. The room becomes smaller and smaller as if the walls are closing down on you.

You withdraw your hand, trying to alleviate the pressure and make a show of grabbing your coffee, taking a big gulp to buy yourself a moment of respite. Frankie's expression turns disappointed, but you're unsure of what to do next. The silence hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed emotions.

"I saw the new plush toy when I picked up Ella from Mrs. Hu yesterday. She seemed to love the unicorn. Thank you," you offer, attempting to break the tension. Frankie's smile flickers back, albeit weaker this time. "I wasn't sure if it was okay, but I wanted to get her something nice. I've missed her so much.”

"You're Ella's father, Frankie. Of course, it's okay for you to buy her things. She loves you," you reassure him, trying to offer some comfort amidst the complexity of your feelings. "I love her too. And I love you, mi cielo. I'm so, so sorry about everything. There aren't enough lifetimes for me to show you how deeply sorry I am for all that I’ve done. For everything that I didn’t do. But I am so sorry, and I intend to make up for it every day for the rest of our lives," Frankie earnestly declares.

You chew on your lip, your thoughts racing as you struggle to find the right words. It's time to confront the truth, to express the raw emotions that have been swirling within you. "I don't need you to make up for it, Frankie. I needed you to... I wanted... I don't know how to say it," you confess, your voice raw and vulnerable.

Frankie's expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and bitterness. "You needed your husband not to be a major fuck-up. You don't have to pretend, I know," he admits, his voice laced with a hint of self-disgust. "I'm trying so hard, mi cielo. I want to be the man you need me to be. I want to be the husband you deserve. The father Ella deserves.” “Frankie…”

"No, please, mi cielo, please. I need to say this," Frankie implores, his voice filled with urgency. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I've been doing a lot of talking in group therapy, but I've also been listening. I was trying to understand where I went wrong if there was something I could have done different. And there were many things, but I've realized that the drugs, they weren't the actual problem. They were more like a symptom of the real problem; my therapist helped me understand that they were more like a physical manifestation of what was wrong deep inside me. Taking drugs was my way of externalizing all the pain and turmoil that I was feeling i within. In a twisted way, I never truly believed that I deserved you or Ella, and maybe a part of me wanted to sabotage the good things in my life. I don't know. I don't want to lie to you and tell you that I'm completely cured, that I won't ever feel the urge to do reckless things when life becomes overwhelming. But I don't want to be that man anymore. I want to change.”

Frankie's words hang in the air, heavy with honesty and vulnerability. He looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of remorse and hope.

"I want to tell you why I feel this way," Frankie continues, his voice filled with conviction. "I want to share with you what I’ve gone through, I see how unfair I was to you by shutting you out of this large part of me. I want to open it to you and show you everything, the good, the bad the ugly. I mean, only if you still see yourself doing so sown the line.

You could see the sincerity etched on his face, the genuine desire to make amends and rebuild what was broken. His words resonated deep within you, stirring a mix of emotions.

"I know, Frankie. It's just... It's just that," you said, exhaling audibly and averting your gaze to the side, trying to collect your thoughts. "You know it's not that simple." As you settled your eyes back on Frankie, his face displayed a mix of understanding and devastation, realizing the weight of your words.

"So much has happened, and I don't want to rush into anything," you continued, your voice tinged with hesitation. "Perhaps we could keep the current dynamic, for now, allowing things to unfold a bit more slowly. With work calming down maybe we could take small steps towards building a stronger trust, maybe we could have dinner together as a trio a few times a week? I still want you to spend time with Ella as much as you want, but I also need to sort out my own thoughts and emotions before moving forward.”

A deep sigh escapes your lips as you continue, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I know it might seem selfish, Frankie, but you really hurt me." Unable to contain your emotions any longer, a sob escaped, your resolve weakened by the pain. "You hurt me deeply, and now, I'm left questioning whether I can truly trust you." The tears wells up, despite your best efforts to hold them back, betraying the depth of your hurt and confusion.

Frankie's leg begins to bounce restlessly as he absorbs your words. "Mi cielo..." he murmurs softly, his voice filled with a mix of concern and longing.

"Look, Frankie, I'm not saying that I don't want us to find our way back to each other," you start, trying to articulate your thoughts as clearly as possible. "I just... I don't know what I want. I thought I would have it all figured out by the time you left the center, but it feels like I'm still as lost as the day I found you on that couch after you got busted. It's like I've been living in this constant haze, and now that you're here and you want to open up and work on us and our family, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with fear. So, so scared."

Your voice trembles with vulnerability as you continue, bearing your deepest concerns. "I'm afraid that history will repeat itself. I'm scared of ending up like my mother—bitter, angry, and becoming a bad mom to Ella. The thought terrifies me." Taking a deep breath, you fight to steady your racing heart. "Frankie, I don't know exactly what I want right now, but I do know that I want to do what's best for Ella. She deserves a loving and stable environment, and I need to ensure I can provide that."

Frankie looks down at his hand, his fingers fidgeting nervously, and swallows with difficulty. His Adam's apple bobbing harshly against his skin. "I... I understand," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Closing his eyes momentarily, he musters the courage to ask the question that weighs heavily on his mind.

"Can I... Can I ask you something?" Frankie's voice wavers as he seeks your permission. "Of course, you can ask me anything," you reply, your tone filled with reassurance.

"Thanks, it's part of my new 'communication policy.' I'm trying to make my wants heard and all that," Frankie says, passing his hand across the nape of his neck in a nervous gesture. "If something comes up at home... you... Are you going to call me to fix it? I mean, you could call me at like 3 am, and I would rush home, you know that right?"

Looking at Frankie, a mix of uncertainty and bewilderment on your face, you respond, "Yes, of course, Frankie. I will always call you if something comes up. Why are you asking that?" Frankie's expression shifts to one of shame, and a vibrant shade of pink tinged the tip of his nose.

"I just... argh! You're going to think it's so stupid. It's just... I saw the video," Frankie confesses, his voice laden with vulnerability. Perplex, you ask, "What video?"

Unsure if you could be any more confused, Frankie explains, "The video with Ella and Benny. Will told me that Ben was there to fix the fan in the bathroom. And he was there the first time Ella crawled. It's stupid, I know. Benny is like a brother, and I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me like that. But I felt so insecure and inadequate when I saw the video. I was in rehab, unable to help myself, while Benny was being the man of the house for you and Ella, and..."

Feeling a surge of empathy and understanding, you reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing tightly. "Whatever happens, Frankie, you are Estrella's father, and nothing will ever change that. There is no one else that Ella loves more than her papa, you know." As you speak, Frankie let out a small scoff, doubting the truth of your words.

"No, no, no. It's true. I wouldn't lie to you about that," you affirm, looking into his eyes with sincerity. "Do you know why Ella started to crawl that day? It's because of you, Frankie." His gaze fills with uncertainty, Frankie asks, "What do you mean? I wasn't even there."

"No, you weren't physically there, but I played the voice recording you made every day for Ella. And while I was helping Benny remove the old fan, I guess the recording stopped. Ella just wanted to hear more stories from her papa. She was crawling toward you, Frankie."

Frankie's emotions overflow at your words, and he can’t contain his response any longer. "I can't... I thought... My god, what did I think?!" His voice cracks with anguish as tears stream down his face, making him appear years younger, vulnerable like a child seeking reassurance. "I would never think that you... It's just me, I am the problem, and... Ella was crawling because of me?"

You nod, your voice filled with tenderness. "Yeah, she was. Because she loves you, Frankie. You never have to worry about that."

Frankie's tears continue to flow, but there was a glimmer of relief in his eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted, being worthy of her, being worthy of you and your love," he confessed, baring his heart.

"Frankie..." you began, but he interrupts, "You don't have to say anything. It's okay," Frankie reassures you, a small smile gracing his face. "I'm just so glad I got to see you today, to talk. It was a long time coming."

"Yeah," you admit, your own smile forming. "I like this “open communication Frankie”. Do you know if he is planning on hanging around?”

Frankie lets out a laugh, the sound carrying a sense of newfound hope. "Oh yeah, him and “emotionally healing Frankie” are planning on settling down around here for a long time."

Your smile widens, warmth spreading through your heart. "I'm so glad you're better, and I am so glad you are home, Frankie."

"Me too, mi cielo. Me too."

________________________________________________________

That same night

As you settle in the comfort of your bed, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting a warm ambiance, your eyes fix on Ella peacefully slumbering in the crib stationed at the foot of your bed. The events of earlier in the day dance vividly in your mind, refusing to release their grip on your thoughts.

The memory of Frankie's face haunts you—the subtle but unmistakable disappointment he tried to conceal when you mustered the courage to confess that you needed more time. The weight of that moment bears down on you, leaving you unsure. You can’t help but question yourself, wondering how much pain your hesitations were causing him. How much pain it was causing you. The flood of confusion and doubt was starting to overwhelm you.

As you lay there, the rhythmic rise and fall of Ella's chest serving as a soothing lullaby, you realize that love was a delicate dance. It required patience, understanding, and forgiveness. And in that dance, you and Frankie had stumbled, fumbling through the steps, yet you always found the strength to hold each other up. Were you holding him right now though? Was your dance so out of step that you couldn’t catch each other anymore?

You groan and roll over in bed, hoping that sleep would bring you some clarity. However, as soon as you close your eyes, you open them again and see the clock glaring back at you, displaying the time as 9:45 pm. Instantly filled with urgency, you leap out of bed like a woman possessed, making sure not to wake baby Ella. You hurry over to the small desk on the other side of the room, where you keep important papers. Frankie had also used this desk as a workspace sometimes when he didn’t want to bother you while you were making dinner. You could almost see him, sitting on the small chair, dwarfing the desk with his large frame and checking with various weather stations around the county if flying would be possible in the upcoming days. Those were the good days, you think to yourself, simple yet you would give anything to go back to them. You reach the desk in less than 3 strides, and you hastily pull open the top drawer. You retrieve Frankie's letter that had been sitting there, untouched, for the past four months. You had been avoiding it, trying not to think about it, but now the pull was too strong. Clutching the letter close to your chest, your hands trembling, you bring it back to bed. You turn on the bedside lamp, setting it to its lowest brightness, casting a soft golden glow in the room—enough light for you to read but not disturb Ella's sleep.

You stared at the envelope as if it had the power to scorch your fingertips, fully aware that its contents very well could. Gritting your teeth, you tear through the envelope, taking out the piece of paper adorned with Frankie's handwriting. It lay before you, an expansive canvas etched with the raw emotions of his pen. Inhaling deeply, you brace yourself and commence reading, finally ready to confront whatever lay within those written words.

Mi Cielo,

I'm trembling as I pen these words to you. Tomorrow, I am finally taking your advice from months ago and I am going to check myself into rehab. It has become evident that one truth remains steadfast in our marriage: you are always right, mi corazón.

Depending on when you read this, I might be in rehab or have already completed my time away from you. Perhaps I am even at your side right now! Reading these words together with you, cringing behind your shoulder. If that is the case, let me warn my future self: you had better treat her well, pendejo. Do not repeat the same foolish mistakes I made.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room, at the same time Ella’s squeal rings out from her crib. Holding your breath momentarily, you listen for any more sounds, but the silence reassures you. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn your attention back to Frankie's letter.

During these past five days since I left our home, I have been replaying our life together in my mind. Every time, I am confronted with how much I fell short of being the person you deserved. If I could turn back time to those moments when you looked at me with your caring eyes, asking if something was wrong and how you could help, I would be honest with you. I would not hide the nightmares that haunt me, the overwhelming feeling I get from the sound of a garbage truck, or the fact that I am not okay when I pretend to be. Mi Cielo, I am sorry to admit that you have married a weak man, and for that, I apologize.

Apologies are just the beginning; words alone cannot fix everything. That is why I am going to rehab—to become the man you and Ella deserve, and because I want to improve myself too. I have realized that I have forgotten what it truly means to be alive. For too long, I have merely existed, following orders and going through the motions of life. Now that I have the freedom to make my own choices, it is as if I have forgotten how to do so. I need to learn and grow. I am scared, mi cielo. The thought of being away from you and our little Estrellita makes me feel sick. But I know it is the right thing to do, even if it tears me apart to leave you and our baby.

I will put in the work, and when I return to you, my love, you will never be alone again. I will be there by your side, committed to building the life we once dreamed of. Do you remember those letters you sent me while I was overseas? You painted a picture of calm evenings in our backyard, summer getaways to a lakeside chalet with our friends, and long lazy weekends in bed—a simple and perfect life. That is what I desire, mi cielo.

I lost my way because I could not face the man I had become, a man I did not want to be for you. Despite my intentions to spare you from pain, I ended up causing you so much hurt—the very thing I swore I would never do. I became lost, but now I am determined to find my path again. And when I rediscover my true self, I will catch up to you, embracing you in my arms, and we will walk the rest of our lives together. Side by side.

No matter what lies ahead, mi cielo, know that you are my everything.

Te amo, mi cielo, and I will see you sooner than you think. The day I see you again, I plan to shower you with love until my last breath. Every passing moment intensifies the yearning within me to hold you in my arms once more, to show you the man I have discovered within myself. I love you and will keep on loving you from afar.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Your body trembles involuntarily, tears cascading down and staining the letter in your grasp. Emotions surge through you, overwhelming and dizzying. The relentless question echoes in your mind: Why must everything be so tangled and convoluted? In your heart, you know the truth—you love Frankie, and he loves you. It was the one thing that has always remained steadfast, this bond between you and Frankie that has weathered many storms and endured even more hardships, but which remains there to this day. Maybe it is more delicate today, more tattered, and fragile, but it exists still, the letter and Frankie’s efforts are proof of that. You can feel it in your bones. Shouldn't that love be sufficient? It could be, you think. You sprint out of bed and leave the bedroom, grabbing your phone that was resting on the table next to your bed.

Urgently, you bolt out of bed and hastily exit the bedroom, snatching your phone from the nearby table. As you hurriedly make your way to the kitchen, your fingers dial a familiar number, and you anxiously await the response on the other end. Finally, a voice answers, "Hello?"

"Hey, Will. I'm sorry to disturb you at this late hour," you say, your words tinged with nervous excitement. "Do you think you could come over and watch Ella for an hour or two? There's something I need to take care of and it can’t wait for the morning."

_______________________________________________

Frankie pours a splash of soy milk into his bowl filled with honey-nut Cheerios. Soy milk isn't his preferred choice due to its texture, but his mother has fully embraced the diary-free way of life apparently. He isn't particularly fond of Cheerios either; it's been years since he last had them. Yet, he hopes that eating something familiar will bring a sense of comfort and help ease his frayed nerves.

Frankie lets out a weary sigh, realizing the need to stop dwelling on what transpired between you both earlier. As he had anticipated, you handled the situation with kindness, even offering apologies when there was no need. His therapist's words echoed in his mind—you needed time, and that was perfectly all right. He knows that not everything could always align with his timeline. The important thing was that he would still have the opportunity to see you and spend time with Ella. Nothing was truly lost, at least not yet.

With a renewed sense of determination, Frankie reminds himself to stay positive and walk alongside you on this journey you are undertaking. Pushing for a hasty decision would only impede both of you in the long run. Today, Frankie recognizes the significance of establishing his own boundaries and he must now respect yours. He's committed to doing so, honouring your need for space and allowing the necessary time for decisions to be made. Together, you'll navigate this path, supporting one another every step of the way.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Frankie hastily finishes the last spoonful of Cheerios, his gaze shifting towards the oven clock: 10:25? It seems late for someone to be arriving at the house. Especially unannounced. Aware that his mother is already asleep due to her early morning work schedule, Frankie hesitates to disturb her. Could he have forgotten something with Pope or Will? Maybe Benny needed to talk to him; he had been neglecting their friendship since his return from rehab, and he needed to make amends for that. He reminds himself that his own insecurities shouldn't hinder the love he holds for his old friend. Frankie makes his way to the front of the house and opens the door, “A bit late for knocking on people’s ….”

However, the words catch in his throat as Frankie beholds the sight before him. There you stand, clad in his oversized shirt that engulfs you in a sea of fabric, paired with small black shorts. It tugs at his heartstrings. "Mi cielo... What are you doing here? Is everything alright, did something happen? Where is Ella?" he exclaims, a mixture of surprise and concern etching across his face.

“Ella is with Will, at home.” you answer “With Will?! But why…”

"I read your letter," you say with apprehension. Frankie can feel his heart racing, pounding in his chest, as he braces himself for your words. "Mi cielo, that letter..."

"No, please. Now, I want to talk. Please let me, Frankie," you interrupt, pleading for your chance to speak. Frankie nods fervently, allowing you to continue.

"For so long, I've been consumed with worry for you, Frankie. I saw that you were suffering, but I couldn't reach you because you never let me in. It made me so angry and hurt. And I know it may sound selfish, but your struggles with addiction felt like a reflection of my failure as a wife. But now I understand that it's not the case. I could never have helped you unless you wanted to help yourself. And you have, Frankie, and I am incredibly proud of you.”

Your voice quivers with emotion as you confess all the thoughts that have lived in your mind these past months. "I know that our paths have been diverging for a while, but I still love you. I will always love you. There hasn't been anyone else I've loved as deeply as I love you, Frankie. Since that night at the bar, I knew you were the one for me. And I know it can’t be that easy, even if I want it to be. If love could cure all wounds, we wouldn’t be there right now. And I know that I don’t want things to go back to how it was before because it wasn’t right for us. The non-talking, the avoidance, the walking on eggshells. It can’t go on like before Frankie, if we do this, I want us to grow together, I want us to be on this journey together, as long as you promise to be with me, with all your being then I want to be with you. I want us to try together, to really try - the both of us.”

"Those four months without you, Frankie were like living in my own personal hell. I can't bear the thought of spending any more time apart than necessary," you express, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I'm not ready for you to come back and sleep in our room just yet, but what if we set up a bed in the nursery? We can take it slow, see how it feels, and go from there. The important thing is that we do it together. You always tell me that I am your sky, and Ella is your precious little star, but, Frankie, you are my sun. Despite the clouds that have overshadowed us, I need to have my sun back in my life.”

You take a deep breath, your eyes locking with Frankie's. A broad grin spreads across his face, and he gently says, "Come here, mi cielo." Without hesitation, you launch yourself into his open arms, seeking solace in his warm embrace. Soft sobs escape your lips as Frankie holds you tightly, nuzzling the top of your head. It feels like a long-awaited reunion, a return to the safety and love that only his embrace can provide. In this moment, you realize how deeply you missed him and how irreplaceable he is in your life.

"I'll sleep on the floor in the bathroom, mi cielo, if that means I get to be with you and Ella again," Frankie says earnestly, his words filled with devotion.

You let out a snort, snuggling even closer to him. "No need to be dramatic, the nursery will be more than enough," you reply, a mix of amusement and relief washing over you. Frankie smiles, his lips pressing against your hair as he hums softly.

"We'll take it one day at a time, all right?" you suggest, your voice filled with a blend of hope and love, as you lean into Frankie's embrace.

"Yes, mi Cielo, one day at a time," Frankie affirms softly, his voice tinged with tenderness. His arms encircle you tighter, refusing to let you slip away. In that moment, you can feel the strength of his commitment, his quiet dedication to rebuilding what was broken. To mend the love of your little family.

As you both stand there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the moment crashes on you. It's not about going back to how things were before; it's about forging a new path together. The hardships you've faced have reshaped both of you, moulding you into stronger individuals. Now, it's time to rebuild your love, piece by piece.

One day at a time, you will rebuild, and hand in hand, you will mend the broken pieces of yourselves back together again. In your heart, you know that it will be enough because together you are the better part of yourselves. For what is the sky without its sun? The sun's gentle rays bring warmth and beauty, and Frankie was always able to illuminate your life, filling it with love, joy, and meaning. And what is the sun without its sky? Just as the sky embraces the sun, you, like the sky, are Frankie's shelter and support. Your love and presence create the foundation for his warmth, his reason to illuminate the world. Together, you know that you can weather any storm and chase all the clouds away.

You love Frankie and he loves you, and for tonight as he holds you close in his arms that you have missed so much, that is enough. The rest will come one day at a time.

Epilogue

45 notes · View notes