#yes she is slightly hypocritical while loving really his daughter

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song viii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, angst, just straight up angst and drama, arguments, both seokjin and nana are frustrated, both have reasons to feel hurt, both make mistakes  words; 5,122

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards. “The stepmom!” She sneered. 

Your face fell, confused at first, as you attempted to make sense of her words, of her anger. You didn’t understand what was going on, but unable to stop yourself, irritation began creeping its way up your body, heat prickling your face. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, but under appropriate triggers, you often saw red. You opened your mouth, ready to say something – you didn’t quite know what – but then your gaze fell to Arin. Still clutching her mom’s hand. Her eyes were on you now, still wide and brimming with tears. She looked frightened. You came to your senses. 

There was no good getting angry. Especially in front of a child. By your side, Seokjin straightened his back, letting go of your hand to step in front of you slightly. You appreciated the thought, but you didn’t really need protecting. You could look after yourself.  

“Stop embarrassing yourself, Nana.” 

Caught off guard for the second time in under five minutes, the tone of Seokjin’s voice threw you for a loop. The venom you heard unnerved you, a sick feeling twisting your gut. You’d heard him stressed, you’d heard him tense, you’d even heard him stern a few times on the phone, but you’d never heard his voice filled with such bite like this. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nana spat back, her long hair flipping around as she raised her hand to point at him. “Not when you’ve been playing house with your daughter’s teacher, letting my daughter call her stepmom.” 

Seokjin chuckled, the sound humourless. He shook his head, practically laughing in her face. “I don’t know where you’ve heard that from because it’s not true.” The look on Nana’s face told you she didn’t believe a word he said.  

Seokjin bent down, attention on Arin. He held his hand out, wanting her to take it. “Arin, come here,” he asked, voice gentle, nothing like how he’d spoken to her mother. She let go of Nana’s hand and slowly made her way over. He immediately wrapped his arms around her middle. “Tell daddy where you got that word from.” She still looked afraid, hesitating as she opened her mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you,” he reassured, stroking her hair. 

“Mommy is.” Arin’s voice shook, one lone tear falling down her cheek. It broke your heart. 

“Mommy isn’t mad at you.” Seokjin’s voice was a murmur, but as he looked up at his ex-wife he had to try his best to sound composed. “Right?” 

Nana stared at him for a moment, her dark eyes piercing through him almost, but he didn’t flinch. Her gaze fell to the back of her daughter’s head, immediately softening, the regret obvious on her face. “No, darling, mommy isn’t mad at you. I’d never be mad at you.” 

Her words comforted Arin, and she looked up at her father, small voice still trembling with emotion as she explained. “Suzie told me that’s what Y/N is because she’s your girlfriend. She has one too.”

Seokjin exhaled slowly. “So, you heard it from your friend?” Arin nodded, and he quickly embraced her, rubbing her back as he soothed her. “That’s okay. No need to be upset.” You heard her sniff into his shoulder, but Seokjin’s attention was already on Nana again. 

“Happy now?” He shot, not giving her any time to reply. “Now get out of my house.” 

“Excuse me?” Her nostrils flared. 

“You heard me. Get the hell out of my house!” 

“Seokjin,” you breathed, reaching for his shoulder. He needed to remember everything he was saying was being heard by his daughter. He might be mad right now but he needed to think of Arin. 

As if Nana realised too, she took control. “Arin, go upstairs to your room and let me talk with your father.” 

Seokjin’s eyes flashed in anger. “Don’t tell her what to do in my home.” Nana scoffed, but Seokjin’s attention was back on Arin. He cupped her face in his hands.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go and play upstairs for a little while, okay? Daddy will come and check on you soon.” She nodded slowly, her tears dried. At least that was a positive. He kissed her cheek and stood up, encouraging her to make her way out of the room and upstairs with a nod. As she passed by you, you gave her a small smile. She returned it. You thought someone should at least accompany her to her room, but you thought best not to suggest it. It wasn’t your place. 

There was silence, a few moments as they waited for Arin to be safely out of earshot. Your heart drummed against your ribcage, still feeling nauseous. This wasn’t over just yet. Nana had no intentions of leaving. 

“Hypocrite,” she scoffed under her breath. 

“What did you say?” Glancing over at Seokjin, you saw his jaw was clenched, his gaze hard, unwavering as he stared at her. 

“I called you a hypocrite.” She sounded unbothered, eyes finding yours. “You don’t know him at all, sadly. You’ll soon find out how miserable he is. How frustrating it is when he always has to right. Mr. Perfect, aren’t you, Jin?” She was trying to rile him up, get a reaction. “Could never do anything wrong.” 

The way she called him Jin made you feel funny. It was so…personal. It had never crossed your mind to use the shortened version of his name. It had always been Seokjin for you. 

“Nice try,” he gave a hollow laugh. “Say what you want, we don’t care.” 

That much was true. Nana’s words wouldn’t make you doubt anything. Your relationship with Seokjin was solid. His relationship with Nana was nothing similar. 

“So when were you planning on telling me?”

Just like that you felt your heart drop, turning to look at Seokjin on instinct. You must have understood wrong. Nana knew about you, right? He’d told her about you, surely? 

“Did you just think you could pretend I didn’t exist?” Seokjin stayed silent, only infuriating Nana even more. “Answer me! How long has it been going on for?” 

“It’s none of your business!” He exploded causing you to jump. You had never once heard him raise his voice. His face was red, his blood pressure soaring. 

“None of my business?!” She cried, laughing in disbelief. His shouting did nothing to deter her. They were used to arguing, you guessed. “It is when my daughter is concerned.” 

It was Seokjin’s turn to scoff. “Oh, so now you care? You’re a joke.” 

Nana’s expression faltered. It took a moment for her to compose herself. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her tone was icy. 

Seokjin didn’t give her an answer. “I don’t owe you anything, Nana. You’re nothing to me anymore.” 

“I’m the mother of your daughter!” She was enraged, her eyes wide as she glowered. “You shouldn’t have kept this from me. I had no clue, Jin!” His indifference infuriated her even more. “Not one! Did you tell Arin to keep quiet?”

That had him biting, face scrunching up at her ludicrous claim. “Of course I didn’t.” 

“Then why,” she demanded, “why was I so oblivious?!” 

“Do I come up in conversation much? Maybe there’s your answer.” Seokjin shrugged. “When was the last time we were in the same room together?”

“Don’t! No, Jin, don’t use that as an excuse.” Nana’s voice wavered, words dotted with an emotion you hadn’t heard yet. 

You felt a pang of guilt. You’d been so oblivious too. Hadn’t realised she had no clue of your existence. You understood her frustrations. It was difficult not to. Seokjin was adamant though. Ruled by his emotions. He couldn’t see his fault. 

“You let our daughter stay with a stranger last weekend!”

But that hurt. 

You weren’t a stranger. You had known Arin for months. You adored that little girl and she liked having you around. You weren’t just anyone. Desperately, you tried to keep it together. Logically yes, you were a stranger to Nana. She had a right to be mad. You knew that. 

Although Seokjin didn’t see it that way, defending you angrily. “Y/N is not a stranger!” 

“To me she is!” Nana shouted. “I didn’t have a clue. What if something had happened to Arin?”

You wanted to say something. To tell her you understood her reservations. Maybe you even wanted to stick up for yourself, but you couldn’t find the words. Guilt was eating you up. 

“Just shut your mouth,” Seokjin hissed. His defensiveness made you nervous. “You don’t care. If you did you would have dropped everything and said yes when I called you.” 

“I was working.” Nana ran a hand through her hair, face patched red. “You think I didn’t want to say yes? I thought you’d just cancel or ask your parents to help out.” Then her eyes fell on you, that familiar sneer on her face. “Instead, you asked her.” 

Taken aback, you opened your mouth, words rushing out. “I’m really sorry you had to find out about our relationship this way, I… I thought–”

“I don’t want to hear it, stepmom.” 

Your cheeks flushed, anger bubbling at her dismissal. She wasn’t even going to hear what you had to say? “I’ve never referred to myself as Arin’s stepmother.” 

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “And what if I don’t believe you?” 

Before you could defend yourself Seokjin flew in, in front of you once more. You felt fresh anger, but everything was moving so fast you didn’t know how to place it. “Don’t speak to her like that. God, you’re such a condescending bitch.” 

“And you’re a smug, arrogant bastard.” She shot right back immediately. 

Seokjin scoffed. “Don’t try to deflect. You’ve just heard Arin say she learned that word from a friend. Do you think I’d force my own daughter to lie?” 

Nana stared at him, her breathing laboured with anger. Her eyes flicked to you and then back at Seokjin quickly, a devious smirk spreading across her face. “She’s younger, Seokjin. Having a midlife crisis?” 

Seokjin exhaled slowly, his voice calm as he replied, lips twitching up in amusement. “Your goading won’t work.” 

Although she still tried. “What would Arin’s school think? Knowing you’re fucking your daughter’s teacher.” 

You didn’t take kindly to threats, no matter the situation. Straightening your back you spoke clearly, voice raised a little. “I’m not her teacher anymore and the school already knows.”  

“There’s nothing you can do, Nana,” Seokjin sighed softly, taking your hand. It didn’t feel as comforting as it usually did. “So just let me be happy. It’s the least you can do.” 

That did it. Nana saw red instantly. “Oh, quit playing the victim!” She exclaimed, laughing at his seeming absurdity. You prayed Arin couldn’t hear all the commotion. The house was large enough, the walls thick enough, but who really knew. “Am I not allowed to be mad? You’ve kept this relationship,” she mocked, eyeing your laced fingers, “a secret this entire time. You’ve been playing happy families with my daughter.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m Arin’s mother.” 

“Yes, but that’s all you are.” 

A noise fell from Nana’s mouth. “I know, I know, you hate me. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.” 

“I don’t hate you, Nana.” With a sigh, Seokjin let go of your hand, rubbing his temples. “That would imply I still care. I don’t. I stopped caring a long time ago.” 

Nana rolled her eyes. “This again.” You on the other hand were lost. 

Seokjin’s eyes locked on hers, gaze steady, just like his words that seemed to knock you for six. “I stopped caring the moment I found you in bed with another man.”

You probably couldn’t hide the shock from your face, mind reeling, but they didn’t seem to notice. You were barely concentrating on what they were saying anymore. 

“Shut up.” Nana shot, provoking him further. “You never cared, Jin. Never. I did you a favour when I fucked Jaehyun. It gave you the perfect excuse to leave because you were too much of a coward to do it otherwise.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” Seokjin scoffed quietly, but you could tell by his face he was visibly irritated. Maybe. He felt like a stranger right now. “Believe what you want.” 

“I will because it’s a fact.” 

Seokjin’s chest heaved with anger, breathing heavily as he failed to keep calm. “I didn’t leave sooner because I wanted Arin to be happy!” His voice broke with emotion. “I wanted to stay together for Arin’s sake.” 

“And look how bitter that made you.” Nana laughed, her eyes quickly finding yours again, remembering you existed. “Are you taking notes?” She folded her arms across her chest. “This is what will happen. He’ll promise you the world and then a few years later hate your guts.” 

You looked at the floor, unable to rebuff her claims even if you wanted to. Your thoughts slipped to last night, out on the deck… The way Seokjin had held you, gazed at you, the words he’d said... I want to give you the world. It was silly to let Nana’s words sting, but they did, nevertheless. Last night felt like a lifetime ago.

You felt a strong arm embrace you, wrapping around your shoulders as Seokjin held you to him. It did little to comfort you. Your head was whirring, thoughts swarming you. “Y/N is nothing like you, so don’t.” He warned, glaring across at Nana. “Don’t you dare try to compare our relationship to the one I had with you.” 

Nana laughed loudly, her face contorting as she yelled. “What am I like then, Jin? Go on! Tell me! I’m so fucking curious!” 

“You’re a cold, heartless cow who can’t even be bothered to be a mother to her own daughter!” His words flew out as if they’d been impatiently waiting for the opportunity. 

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed in shock, spinning your head to look at him. He was letting his emotions rule his head, so much so, he didn’t even bat an eyelid at your voice, continuing his tirade. 

His arm let you go as he stepped closer to his ex-wife. “Do you know why Arin probably felt so comfortable calling Y/N her stepmom?” It was a question not meant to be answered. “It’s because she’s been there for her these past few months. Where have you been, huh? She’s so used to you cancelling plans that she always expects the worse.” 

You were gobsmacked, unsure what had just left his mouth as you tried to make sense of his words. He couldn’t be comparing you both. He couldn’t be using you to hurt Nana. Right? 

“That’s not fair, I haven’t cancelled in weeks.” Nana’s voice was quiet, a far cry from her earlier volume, and you took a glance, noticing that her wide eyes were shining in the sunlight that streamed through the window. She seemed smaller now, less imposing. 

“Bravo,” Seokjin spat, beginning to slowly clap his hands. “What do you want, a round of applause?” 

“I can’t help it I’m busy with work. That’s why we agreed she’d live with you.” Nana sounded clearly upset now, Seokjin’s words striking a nerve. You couldn’t help but feel bad for her. 

“And I’m not busy?!” Seokjin wasn’t done. “Your excuses don’t work on me. They never have.” 

“I love my daughter. Don’t you dare try to insinuate otherwise.” 

Seokjin wasn’t listening. “You came here just to create a scene. You didn’t think about Arin at all, did you? You made her give you all the details just to twist the knife in. That’s all you care about. You can’t handle the thought of me being happy because you’re so goddamn miserable!” 

“Just come out and say it, Jin!” She shouted, arms out. “You think I’m a terrible mother.” 

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he replied, “I never said that, but if the shoe fits.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, a sick feeling turning your stomach. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You didn’t want to be involved in this shouting match. You didn’t want to see your boyfriend this angry, you didn’t want to hear him speak like this. 

Eventually, Nana’s voice pierced through the silence. It wavered but she kept her cool, head held up high. “Well, thank you, Jin. Thank you so much for finally telling me how you feel. How very brave of you. Finally.” 

You watched as she straightened her jacket and smoothed down her hair, and then she took a step forward. She was heading for the door. 

“That’s it?” Seokjin scoffed, his voice hoarse. “You’re leaving without saying goodbye to your daughter?”

Nana didn’t reply, she didn’t even look at him, just carried on walking out of the room. You heard her heels against the tiles of the hallway, steps retreating. 

“You really have no shame!” He called after her as you both heard the front door open, and then it clicked shut. “Fuck!” 

You jumped at the sudden raise of tone, watching him kick the footrest beside the chair across the room in temper. He had his back to you, his shoulders shuddering with his heavy breathing. You swallowed, feeling your throat dry but you couldn’t say anything. This was all new to you. This side of your relationship, this side of Seokjin. Actually, this whole situation was unlike anything you’d been involved in before. You’d had your fair share of relationship drama in the past, that was a given, but this… You were in over your head. This wasn’t about you. This was a situation involving Seokjin and Nana. You didn’t know what to say or do to make it better. In all honesty, you didn’t even want to try. 

“Daddy?” 

The tiny voice from behind startled you both, and you whipped your head around to see Arin in the doorway. Her eyes were pulled wide, worried and confused. It made your heart hurt. A small part of you couldn’t help but feel to blame. 

“Did mommy leave?” She asked, her gaze on her father, who was staring blankly ahead. 

“Yes, she did,” was all he said, stunning you in the process. 

“Seokjin, you can’t just say it like that!” You exclaimed, looking at him properly for the first time. Arin had walked into the room by now, hovering by your side, a hand to her mouth as she flicked her thumbnail over her teeth nervously.   

Seokjin’s eyes met yours, refocusing before something flickered inside of them – realisation. He looked down at his daughter, voice softening instantly. “She had to go home, Arin. Something came up.” 

You could tell by her face she didn’t quite believe him. She was a bright kid, not that you thought Seokjin was undermining her intelligence, but she knew something was wrong and you didn’t think it was fair to just gloss over the issue. 

“Why don’t you watch some cartoons?” He suggested, guiding her to the sofa. “I’ll make you something to drink. What would you like?” 

She gave him a small smile as he passed her the remote control. “Hot chocolate, please.” 

The tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth too. “Okay, one hot chocolate coming right up.” He turned to you, a hand brushing yours for a brief second, voice low as he asked you a question. “Can you stay with her?”

Your nod was barely there, and you watched him walk out, heading for the kitchen. After a moment’s delay, you joined Arin on the sofa, attention on the television, watching the cartoon characters bounce around the screen, but you were in a world of your own. Arin’s voice’s tore you from it, her question rattling you. 

“Why did she go?” 

“I don’t know.” You hated yourself for lying to her but it wasn’t your place to explain. Especially not now given the circumstances. Your thoughts were captured once more. Nana had been clueless to your existence this whole time. Had you been a fool to assume otherwise? 

“Did they argue?” 

Your eyes fell to Arin’s, wanting to embrace her but thought better of it. You’d have to reassure her another way. With words. If you could. “It’s nothing to worry about, okay?” You smiled, the action stiff. “They’re just a bit angry at one another.” 

“Because of me?”

Her question broke your heart. You shook your head hastily. “Of course not.” 

She didn’t respond, turning back to the TV. She didn’t seem visibly upset, nothing like earlier, but maybe this was worse. She seemed despondent, quiet. You were reminded of when you were a kid, hearing your parents argue nonstop before their divorce. At times you used to feel at fault too. 

“I’m sorry I called you my stepmom, I didn’t know it was wrong.” As she spoke she kept staring at the television, voice quiet. 

“Arin, it’s okay, sweetie,” you told her, this time unable to stop yourself from wrapping an arm around her shoulders. You wanted to comfort her. She needed comforting. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all.” 

You knew what children were like together. The conversation she’d had with her friend had been innocent. She’d had no clue what the weight of such a word could mean, or even do. None of this was her fault. 

You held her for a while, getting consoled yourself almost as well, but time was passing and Seokjin hadn’t come back with her hot chocolate. You glanced at the clock on the wall, he’d been gone fifteen minutes. “I’m going to check on daddy,” you said, pulling away gently. “To see what he’s done with your hot chocolate.” You tried to joke around but your laugh sounded forced. Arin nodded, giving you a tiny smile as you stood up. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

You found him in the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters as he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. Arin’s drink wasn’t even half made. Irritation flooded your senses for a moment. You got that he was upset, angry, maybe even a little dazed by the situation, but he still needed to pull himself together and be there for his daughter. Drinking at two o’clock in the afternoon was unacceptable. 

However when he saw you, his expression softened into worry, concern colouring his tone as he asked, “Is she okay?”

You swallowed down your frustration, but once again your mind was beginning to whir. You had so many questions, so many answers that you needed, but now wasn’t the time. He needed to make sure Arin was settled and then you both could talk. 

You walked further into the room, speaking as you went. “She’s upset. She thinks she did something wrong, that’s why you and Nana argued.” 

Seokjin sounded regretful when he sighed. His eyes closed, fingers tightening around the tumbler. “Do you think she heard any of it?”

In a clipped voice you replied. “I hope not.” 

Hearing your tone he opened his eyes, coming to his senses almost. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, placing his drink down on the counter. He moved towards you, a hand ghosting over your back. “Are you okay?” Despite his tone of voice being one you were familiar with, his concern did little to console you. All you could do was nod your head.  

“Don’t take any notice of her, okay?” He continued, his voice slowly changing again. “This is what she does. She pushes and pushes. She can’t stand–”

“Seokjin, enough,” you begged, exhausted. You could hear him becoming more and more irate. 

The hand on your back froze and then dropped to his side. “Are you sticking up for her?” He more or less accused. 

“What?” You looked at him, baffled. “Of course I’m not. You just need to calm down. I know you’re angry but your daughter needs you right now.” 

His features smoothed out and he stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re right.” He sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You watched as he walked towards the fridge, getting out a carton of milk to pour inside Arin’s mug, chocolate powder waiting. He mixed it together with a spoon and placed it in the microwave, setting the timer. As it whirled around, you spoke again. “We can talk about it later.” 

There was silence as he placed the milk back inside the refrigerator. He closed the door. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

He didn’t believe you. Turning back he folded his arms across his chest, staring at you. “She’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? That’s what she does.” 

You heard yourself sigh. You didn’t want to do this now. Not with Arin just down the hallway. Why was he being so insistent? Your mind flew through the tonne of questions you wanted to unleash his way, but one slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Before you could even acknowledge your own words. 

“Did she really cheat on you?” 

Seokjin looked taken aback, whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Maybe you should have gotten your priorities straight, but stood in front of him right now, you felt deceived. You watched as he gave you a brief nod. Your heart dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He lifted his shoulders, not meeting your eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Not a big deal?” Your voice raised and you willed yourself to keep it down. “It seems like it was the reason you divorced her, Seokjin.” 

The microwaved beeped but you both ignored it. “It was over long before then.” He chuckled humourlessly. “She was right, I was a coward.”

A part of you wanted details but you knew right now wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, you didn’t think he’d share anyway. 

“Is that why you’re mad? Because I didn’t tell you?” He sounded worried, regretful, some other emotions you couldn’t think of right now. 

You sighed softly. “I’m not mad, Seokjin. I’m just… I didn’t know.” 

He went to step forward, to walk towards you but stopped himself. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. Especially with–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear the words you knew he was going to say out loud. You couldn’t bear it. You’d told him about Donghae in a bid to open up – because you trusted him. Why hadn’t Seokjin told you about Nana? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You didn’t know if you were being fair or not. 

“I should go and check on Arin,” he said suddenly, moving to the microwave to open it up. “Thank you for taking care of her. It’s more than her own mother could do, and she’s the one who caused this whole mess.” 

“Don’t,” you whispered, closing your eyes. He wasn’t going to do it again. “Don’t do that. Compare us.” Seokjin looked your way, confused now. “I don’t know Nana. I don’t know what your marriage was like, not really, and I don’t know what her relationship with Arin is like. You shouldn’t have said those things to her. She was obviously upset.” 

You understood that people spoke out in anger, that words just flew out, no matter how small the thought was, but it wasn’t an excuse. He was still emotional, but all you wanted him to see was the bigger picture. 

“I don’t care,” he brushed off. “She needed to hear a few home truths.” 

You scoffed. “And you used me to really drive them in, didn’t you?” You continued regardless of his frown. “It’s not a competition. I’m your girlfriend. I’m not even Arin’s stepmother. We haven’t talked about that yet,” – Seokjin went to speak over you but you stopped him with a hand in the air – “and I know Arin made an innocent mistake, but it obviously hurt Nana. She had no clue I existed, Seokjin. Not one!” 

He did look guilty at that, dropping his gaze, but you weren’t done. “You can be mad because of how she acted but you’re also at fault…” 

“I know,” he murmured. “I know that and I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t the only one he should be apologising to, but by now you were too exhausted to keep this up. You couldn’t stay here, not when you were sure it would end in an argument. You didn’t want to fight with him. You needed space to think. On your own. 

“I should go.” You told him, noticing his face wrinkle up in confusion. 

He was in front of you immediately, clutching your hand. “Y/N, wait,” his voice was unsteady, “You don’t have to go. I’m really sorry that I made you uncomfortable.” 

You appreciated his sincerity, and had no doubts that he meant his apology, but it still wasn’t enough to get you to stay. An I’m sorry wasn’t what you needed. It wasn’t as simple as that. 

“Honey, please,” he begged softly. “This is me with all my baggage. I’m not perfect.” 

Your brow furrowed. “I never thought you were, Seokjin.” This wasn’t about your so called flawless vision of him. He was human, just like you. Yes, seeing him mad like that had shaken you up at first but it wasn’t why you were leaving. Nor were you leaving because of the situation. Everyone had a history, or “baggage” as Seokjin chose to call it. It didn’t change how you felt about him. It was all just very overwhelming. 

You put your other hand over his, silently telling him to let you go. Above all else he needed to spend time with his daughter. “Go and check on Arin. She’s waiting for her hot chocolate.” You told him softly.  

He clasped your hand tighter. “Please don’t go.” 

“I just need some space to think.” You admitted. 

He watched you for a moment, eyes glassy – you expected yours were too – but ever the gentleman he respected your wishes and didn’t press you any further, no matter how much he wanted to plead with you to stay. Deep down he probably knew it was the right thing to do. If you stayed now no good would come from it. You could speak about everything when you were both ready. Whenever that was.

With a tight nod he slipped his hand from yours. You gave him a soft smile and turned your back to him. He had no choice but to watch you leave. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

[karmamelony]

Why Black Clover is not a (if Naruto and Fairy Tail had a baby) type of Anime

Sick and tired of people comparing these 3 anime so when I came across a tiktok with points on why they are all the same by @/jersey.kawaii I was like hey I don’t have nothing to do. 

So here is my take on why they are not the same along with the points they made on why they were. Sorry if this looks choppy

Loud mouth protag with something to prove.

Naruto Uzumaki: Becoming Hokage so the village would respect him. Being loud so he would be noticed. Did not become OP with Kurama’s help until during the Ninja War Arc. Before that Kurama didn’t help in Naruto’s growth and took every opportunity to control his body when his host was overcome with hatred  which would send Naruto into a rampage

Natsu Dragneel: Was raised by a dragon and said dragon left him at a very young age. Is just very boisterous and overall friendly. Does not have a set goal (besides finding his father which he later does) just wants to go on adventures with his guild mates. (not all caught up with fairy tail 100 year quest) He did not get help from a demon Natsu was already half demon and a Dragon Slayer.

Asta: Wants to become the wizard king because he wants to prove that even if you’re poor or have no magic anything can be possible so long as you don’t give up on yourself. Grew up in an orphanage. Born with no magic but did not let that stop him from training. Is very boisterous but has a certain charm after a while. After requiring his grimoire Asta didn’t know anything about the demon living inside of it until much later. The grimoire chose him because he was the ONLY person in that world who could use it.

Rival/Best Friend

Sasuke Uchiha: Has black hair and an attitude problem. Watched his clan be slaughtered by his older brother and then had a curse mark forced upon him. Does not share a goal with Naruto

Gray Fullbuster: Has black hair and an attitude problem. Fire and Ice don’t mix unless you’re Shoto Todoroki. Does not share a goal with Natsu

Yuno: Has black hair and an attitude problem: If anything Yuno should be in a league of his own when it comes to the rivalry he has with Asta. It’s a give and take for both of them and Yuno will get upset if people underestimate Asta. He acknowledges that it was Asta who helped him become a strong mage and now shares a goal. He was not cursed if anything the power he has would be called a blessing

Female Lead

Sakura Haruo: Best friends of the protag and tends to hit him a lot and deemed useless by fandom: She was not Naruto’s best friend growing up. If anything she always called him annoying and a burden. Would hit him for the most outrageous reasons. Their relationship got better when he returned to the Leaf Village. Was very useless in part 1 of Naruto but is a great ninja in part 2. However her personality as a human being is complete garbage

Lucy Heartfilla: Best friends of the protag and tends to hit him a lot and deemed useless by fandom: Natsu and Lucy are like two peas in a pod. If you add Happy then they could be thought of as the three stooges. Is not weak but less strong than other members of her guild.

Noelle Silva: Best friends of the protag and tends to hit him a lot and deemed useless by fandom: She cares for Asta because he was the one to help her with her magic. Stood up for her when she was being bullied by her family. Is just as strong if not stronger than Asta. Has a crush on Asta but doesn’t know how to deal (total tsundere however much cuter when it’s Noelle). She is very much in love with protag

The more reserved female character

Hinata Hyuga: Who is in love with the protagonist and he does not notice and or care...Pretty much her whole character 

Lisanna Strauss: Who is in love with the protagonist and he does not notice and or care: She was at a time and Natsu did have feelings for her as well (they raised Happy together and promised to get married) however Natsu had presumed her deceased after being told by her siblings and did not know that she was in another world. Upon her return she supported the relationship between Lucy and Natsu (if anything was their biggest shipper)

Mimosa Vermillion: Who is in love with the protagonist and he does not notice and or care: Has more to offer than just being known as a girl who loves the protag. Asta does not notice because he is in love with sister Lilly (it’s not going anywhere Asta) but I’m sure if he did know he would care because that is just who Asta is.

The character that was a villain but now is part of the group

Gaara of the Sand: He was just doing a job he was told to do. Always felt like an outcast because of the One Tail being sealed inside of him. Really started to change because of the kinsmenship he had with Naruto who was the only person who could really understand him 

Gajeel Redfox: The character that was a villain but now is part of the group...Honestly where is the lie?

Zora Ideale: Less of a villain more of an anti-hero. Zora was always part of the Black Bulls unofficially he just really hated Royals and magic knights. After meeting Asta he made up his mind to become an official member of the Black Bulls

Mentor / father figure

Jiraiya: Overpowered and dubbed himbo of the show: Overpowered kinda but then again he did die and we really didn’t get to see more of his abilities. He’s more of a pervert than a himbo. Himbo- an attractive but unintelligent man. Jiraiya was plenty smart and nowhere near unintelligent, again he’s just a huge pervert. 

Gildarts Clive: Overpowered and dubbed himbo of the show: To be honest I don't remember much about him. I can say he was overpowered and that's all I can really remember of him and that he didn't know he had a daughter. Status: Alive

Yami Sukehiro: Overpowered and dubbed himbo of the show: (Copying off his Wiki Page) Yami is uncouth, reckless, slightly hypocritical, and prone to delivering death threats at the slightest provocation. Nevertheless, he is a powerful and well-respected Magic Knight who was able to recognize Asta's merits when none of the other Captains would give him a chance.

He is typically a stoic man who believes more in actions than in words. He is very hot-headed, who can be easily angered by small matters. In other words overpowered yes but well earned and not a Himbo. Status: Alive

#black clover #asta #yuno #noelle silva #mimosa vermillion #yami sukehiro #zora ideale #naruto shippuden #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #gaara of the sand #jiraiya #hinata hyuga #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #gray fullbuster #lucy heartfilia #gildarts clive #gajeel redfox #lisanna strauss #grim speaks

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know ;)

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The life of a lady

No matter what culture you were born into, the structures of the society of the noble born, were always one and the same in their most fundamental form. A life as a noble was blessed with wealth and influence, but intrigues and scandals enjoyed dominance over those who had enough money and power to be part of the emperor's curt.

Only the most important people were powerful enough to receive the honor to get a tailored role in such a glorious play, while the rest served only as cheap, unappreciated extras. However, it did not matter at all whether the nobility was absorbed in their role's descriptions or if they would have preferred to step off that pretential stage. Every single one of them was obliged to play their part. If they did not, they had to expect that it would not only be their own end, but often for their entire family and subordinates as well. In that case, all that could save them was the favor of the crown itself, which usually was as fickle and impressionable as the rough sea.

In a world like this, you didn't decide for yourself who you were...

No, not really...

It was the tongues of the others that had the power to deform the image of your identity. They decided who you were and what was best for you. They defined what was right and what was wrong and were able to destroy you at the slightest misstep. So, bearing a title was a privilege and a burden all at once.

As a noble it was not only important who you were and how well you fulfilled your own part in society, no, it was important who you knew and what contacts you had cultivated. Your connections were what made you powerful. So it was common that unions were closed around various families to secure better conditions for their offspring's or to form better alliances to gain power over the emperor's curt. In a society like this, everyone looked for their own benefits. Compassion was a rare treasure, which could only be found in the fewest individuals. Sons were raised to rule, while daughters were only used as bargaining chips. They must humbly serve their families by marrying powerful men, to obtain alliances. They had to bind themselves to those who were raised to rule over them, without ever getting a chance to decide for themselves.

So... how can anyone romanticize such a morbid spectacle? Why are there such big differences between the rights of various people? Why are the deeds of the powerful always glossed over, while the weaker were oppressed?

Noble warriors, who fought for glory and honor...

Fine diplomats, whose silver tongues could melt every single heart...

Mighty kings, who hold their hand protectively over their people...

Well-guarded ladies, whose beauty and elegance could made a whole hall shine...

Weren't these colorful descriptions only empty paraphrases, in order to be able to hide the cruel faces of reality?

But...

Who told of the blood of the innocent that dripped from the warrior's blade?

Who mentioned the lies the diplomat had spun to achieve his goals?

Who wrote about the wars the king instigated to expand his empire?

Who acknowledged that a lady's supposed beauty and family status was the only means to even have the prospect of a rosy future? And even this was not an indicator that her destiny would not be her downfall, because the rules were set by those who wielded the power and if she was unlucky, they were the ones who took advantage of it without thinking of her well-being.

Yes, even the carefully planned and detailed balls and parties, looked at first glance like dreamlike picture perfect background's. They blinded onlookers to what was behind the scenes, but those who lived in this world for long enough, knew that even these were literally only bloody battlefields disguised in beautiful shining robes. It's was a spectacle full of lies.

True love?

A spark of equality?

Boundless trust?

What most rare wonders they were in her hypocritical society and yet (Y/N), young and unreserved, hoped to find them in spite of everything. What a blessed life she had led until now. She was lucky to be born into a wonderful family. Despite her status, its members were warm-hearted and free-spirited. But she knew that this was not the norm and was wise enough not to take her privileges for granted.

With a wildly beating heart, she stood next to her mother and waited for her call to finally be presented before the Emperor and his guests as a marriageable debutante. Normally, the Empress would review the new young ladies year after year, but she had passed away in her own childbed some time ago, and so the Emperor, bless his suprisingly kind soul, took over this task, with a nostalgic smile on his fragile face.

In the midst of the whole crowd of young ladies and their mothers, (Y/N) stood and called herself to patience while she tried to fade out her competition as best she could. Some of her fellow competitors she knew personally, but only a few she had a closer, more sympathetic relationship with. Somewhere at the other end of the waiting area she had spotted Miss Uraraka with her mother. But unfortunately they had only been able to give each other a fleeting smile before she was already called. Ochako was one of her few childhood friends, but she too was unfortunately on the hunt for a good match and was now in some ways as much her competitor as all the rest of the unmarried girls. So all (Y/N) could do was to hope that this season wouldn't drive a wedge between them and at least one of them would get hitched safely.

However, no matter how much she would like to think about her friendships at this moment, the young girl had to use what little time she had left to mentally prepare herself for her own appearance. Breathing deeply through her chest, the budding debutante stretched her back while pulling her shoulders taut. The stiff, floral-embroidered obi was cinched very tightly around her waist, making breathing a little more difficult, but not as impossible as it seemed with some of the other ladies. Testing, (Y/N) tried to put on a charming smile as she interlaced her fingers in front of her body in a demure pose before turning her frame with trembling lips to her mother, who was already looking at her with affection. "I hope I can bring honor to our family today!" the young girl spoke softly as she gazed hopefully into the green eyes of her counterpart. Lady Midoriya regarded her daughter with a moved expression, raising her well-groomed hands to fix the blooming magnolia blossoms she had personally placed in the elaborate hairstyle that morning for one last time. Satisfied with her work, she let her fingers glide gently down over (Y/N)'s ears, only to finally cup the young girl's cheeks in a delicate manner. "You already do, my child! And I know you will continue to do so!" the older lady replied confidently, while placing her slightly wrinkled, yet still delicate fingers under (Y/N)'s chin to lift it decisively. "You are beautiful, intelligent and kind-hearted! You have inherited your father's strong will! He would be as proud as I am to see you like this. Just like your brother, you put all your passion into your tasks and diligently learn what is expected of you. You, my child, will be able to go your way and overcome any stumbling block. I am incredibly sure of that!" Lady Midoriya added emotionaly before she cleared her throat softly, hoping to catch herself again. Tears glistened in her eyes like raindrops on an evergreen branch. The words of her mother gave (Y/N) the necessary strength to suppress the slight trembling of her lips. Slowly but surely, the nervous lump that had spread in her throat dissolved and disappeared along with her fear.

Yes, her mother was right! (Y/N) had inherited the will of her father and had prepared herself in the best possible way for exactly this moment. She would face the emperor fearlessly and make her family proud. On this day and on each still coming!

"Lady Midoriya. It is now your and your daughter's turn!" the stiff voice of the herald's assistant rang out, snapping them out of their brief emotional moment. Nodding, (Y/N)'s mother started to move and placed herself with perfectly executed etiquette in front of the closed red and golden double doors that would lead them into the throne room. The remaining debutantes and their mothers, who were waiting for their momentto come, gave them appraising looks, but (Y/N) tried to ignore them as much as possible. Each of them knew how privileged the youngest Midoriya was, her own brother being one of the three former students of the current emperor. But she would shine today because of her own abilities. Today she would not stand in the shadow of her talented, kind-hearted brother. Taking a deep breath, the young girl followed her mother and positioned herself half a step in front of her while she waited with galloping heartbeat for the herald's introduction.

This was it...

This was the moment on which everything depended. All eyes would be on her to determine her own worth. As soon as those doors opened, she would take the first step to be able to grab a good match for herself. It would be one of the most important steps that would determine the rest of her life and she could not help but dare once again to let hope for a good future arise in her. Conscious of her duty, (Y/N) lowered herself onto the pillow and took in a bowing posture. With her head bowed and fingertips touching, which hovered in a rehearsed posture stretched out in front of her just a few millimeters above the ground, she took one last look at her beloved mother. Making the final decision to take Lady Midoriya as her role model, (Y/N) set herself for the very last time the goal not only to achieve an excellent match and honor for her family, but also to fight for the oh-so-rare love that only a few were truly allowed to experience. Even if her future could not be determined by herself, she did not want to leave her entire destiny solely in the hands of the gods, for only those who proved virtuous and courageous would be truly heard by those same deity's. She had prayed and pleaded that she would be able to feel for her future groom as her mother once did for her beloved husband, but to achieve this she would have to fight in her own way.

"Your Majesty, honored guests, we now present Miss Midoriya (Y/N), younger sister of the head of the family and distinguished samurai of Shizuoka Province, Lord Midoriya Izuku, one of the three former disciples of the Symbol of Peace. His Imperial Highness, Toshinori-sama. The young lady is accompanied by her mother, Lady Midoriya Inko," the clear voice of the herald echoed through the hall, while the richly decorated double doors were pushed open as if in slow motion. As she had been taught, the introduced debutante slowly counted to three before elegantly rising from her bowing position, only to just as slowly lift her eyelids to cast an innocent glance around the hall. In a culture like hers, aesthetics and elegance were invaluable. They were taught to one from childhood. Like a graceful mask, she wore the delicate, demure garb of etiquette expected of a young girl of her station.

'Do not speak unless you are addressed personally.'

'It is better to be seen than heard.'

'A young girl's weapon is not her voice, but her manners and countenance.'

'Be a work of art that all the world wants to admire.'

Even though (Y/N) wanted to be independent in her deepest heart. Even if she would have loved to use her own voice not only to be seen but also to be heard, she knew that for that she needed a man who was kind enough to give her that very chance. Her gently, encouraging brother would not always be her guardian. In a society like hers, a woman alone was worth nothing. Her status was measured by that of her husband and only that man would be able to shape her further life. He alone would have the right to decide whether to lock her in a golden cage and let her wither away or to give her the wings she would need to continue to develop freely. So she had no choice but to be exactly what was expected of her if she wanted to attract as much attention as possible. The family name she carried could not be her only trump card. She had to portray the perfect, well-mannered bride. A girl that was worth fighting over. Beautiful and quiet. Attentive and discreet. Talented and elegant. For this reason, she had poured her heart and soul and perfectionism into this very charlatanry. She wanted freedom! She wanted to be able to hope! Hope that the seed her family had planted in her would be able to blossom! Hope to be able to attract the attention of a man who would be her blessing and not her downfall.

Without losing her balance, the young girl stood up, while with purposeful flowing gestures, she placed her hands hovering over each other under her chest. When at last the seat cushion was discreetly moved aside, the debutante stepped into the packed hall with shining, soft eyes, closely followed by her venerable mother. A slight implied smile, meant to exude modesty and delicacy, played around her lips as she resisted the need to look around the room.

Look at me. I am everything you have ever dreamed of.

Her gaze rested on the hem of the emperor's multi-layered robe without once losing her focus as she strode past his wealthy guests, who were spread out on either side of the hall and focused their full attention on (Y/N). The young girl knew that somewhere in that crowd was her big brother, Midoriya Izuku, watching her intently just like all the others. By the gods, she hoped that he felt pure pride for his sister, just like their mother. He was probably even more nervous than she was at that moment. Perhaps he was even quietly whispering push prayers into his non-existent beard to give his sister all the blessings in the world. No matter. This thought alone warmed the debutante's heart as she took one step after another toward the emperor until she finally came to a stop in front of him. Without lifting her eyes, (Y/N) curtsied as deeply as her legs would allow and then waited with bated breath for the crown's reaction.

Silence reigned in the hall, so pervasive that one could have heard a pin drop on the floor. Like a mantra, the words, Look at me, I bring honor to my family, echoed in the mind of the youngest Midoriya. The sudden clap of the emperor, which echoed through the room like lashes of a whip, almost made (Y/N) wince, but she had managed to pull herself together. Calmly, the young girl waited while she made sure to take deep breaths through her chest so as not to fall prey to dizziness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could observe the emperor nodding warmly in the direction of his guests. "As one would expect, my student's little sister is shining brightly!", Toshinori's voice loudly and warmly pierced the silence of the room.

"This my honored guests, I call a truly sparkling diamond."

#buku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha #mha #x Reader #bakugou x yn #freudal Japan #arranged marriage trope

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words We Don’t Mean

(...and Those We Do)

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7950 👀

Summary: Your parents decide to visit for Thanksgiving, which alone is a trial. 

The fact that they haven’t met Steve yet and they have no clue who he is… yeah, you better brace yourself for a storm.

A/N: Attached: Words We Don’t Mean (and Those We Do) is a one-shot to the Attached series. Technically, you can read it as a standalone.

A/N: In the Stockings fic, I mentioned that no one in their household talked about (last) Thanksgiving. Here’s why. Also: I named the parents Paul and Jane, it’s enough of a mess to work around with nameless reader; if that offends you, sorry, feel free to move on from this fic.

Warnings: angst, parents-daughter fight, mention of sexual relationhips and of using one’s body to earn money (negative view), mild flashback, emotional H/C, swearing, sprinkles of fluff and Disney

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

“Sweetheart, please, sit down for just a second,” Steve requested gently; however, there was no mistaking the drop of amusement in his voice.

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words and continued scrubbing the bathtub clean.

Everything had to be perfect. Had to be. You bought the tinniest of the giant turkeys yesterday – just so you wouldn’t have to eat leftovers for a month –, ingredients for the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Your mum had promised to stop by somewhere to get four slices of a pumpkin pie. But cooking was on your list later today; first you needed to make sure that the apartment would shine with cleanness.

Not that you considered yourself a neat freak, thank you very much… maybe occasionally. And Steve? Yeah, he was more of a neat freak than you were and now he was telling you to rest and take it easy? Uh-huh, nope.

Nope, because… your parents -- gosh, your parents.

“Honey-“

Your head snapped to him as he bounced off of the doorframe, soft steps leading him right to you.

“Did you just call me honey?” you asked incredulously.

Not that you didn’t like it, it was just-- you were Steve’s sweetheart, his babygirl, his good girl… now honey? That was new and frankly, it might have freaked you out a bit.

Also, your heart skipped a frantic beat upon looking at him.

Damn, you forgot again about what he had done yesterday and it always startled you to see him like that. Too unusual – not bad-looking by any means, just… unusual.

Steve chuckled as he crouched to you, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and cupping your mildly sweaty cheek. He grimaced a bit at your surprised tone.

“Not a fan?”

“I mean, yeah, sure, hun, it’s just that… it’s a bit ominous, the change.”

One corner of his lips rose at your choice of a petname. “That’s because you’re freaking out and I need you to calm down a bit, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows shot up and you scoffed, rather offended. Mostly because he was right – but also because he was being a damn hypocrite.

“Oh, am I? Me? Did I spend about an hour in front of the mirror yesterday, trying and almost failing to solve the dilemma whether I should or shouldn’t shave off my beard?”

Steve’s face turned entirely sour at your snarky remark.

“Don’t be mean, it’s a valid concern to-- I don’t want them to hate me,” he murmured and dropped his gaze in shame along with his hand, seemingly shrinking into himself, his insecurity returning.

You sighed and mentally cursed yourself for bringing it up again.

You dropped the brush to the tub with a thud and lost one of your gloves, wiping the ew feeling onto your old sweats before you tried to smoothen the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“They’re gonna love you, Steve,” you assured him again, letting you fingers travel over his clean-shaved jaw, lightly pulling at his cheek to make him smile again. “I miss the beard, not gonna lie, but you do have an extremely sweet boy-next-door look now, you are my handsome, funny, smart as hell guy, who’s somehow all grown up and has life stuff figured out and you’re making me happy. You’re the epitome of the guy a girl wants to bring home to meet her parents.”

Despite slightly panting from exertion, you took care to sound as convincing as possible, pushing away your own worries for a bit.

Steve was your perfect guy, perfection incarnated; you weren’t worried about him not making an impression… except for the fact that Steve did have a few years on you and worked at the uni and—well.

Yet, you couldn’t but dread the moment your parents realized that you were everything but perfect since they let you loose on the world. You had never been the daughter to show off like the epitome of everything good and wholesome, but you always tried your best to please them…. Now though? Darting your professor? Even if he wasn’t exactly your professor?

Yeah, you didn’t think that a spotless apartment could make up for that, but it helped to ease your anxiety when you kept lying to yourself that it just might.

Steve grasped your palm in his, planting a tiny kiss there – a gesture to warm your heart, always – his lips once again curled up a fraction as his gaze met yours, his mesmerizing blues kind and hopeful.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”

And with the way he was looking at you – you finally figured it out. Just a fleeting thought and an answer to an unspoken question you had been failing to grasp at since yesterday; it escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Gosh, you look like a Disney prince!”

Steve’s eyes went comically wide, laughter erupting from his throat and he pulled you to him in one swift motion, falling on his ass with you in his arms in the process and nearly getting crushed by you. Clearly, he did not care one bit as he shook with laughter, kissing your nose, your cheeks and finally your lips despite your protests that you were gross.

“That’s golden! Oh babygirl, you’re the-”

“Tell me I’m Cinderella, I dare you,” you grumbled, but Steve just shook his head and kissed you breathless, fingers of one hand curled around your nape to guide you closer, to breathe you in, while his other hand stayed wrapped around your waist.

You tried your best not to touch him with your gloved hand, having it ridiculously stretched out to nowhere in order not to spot his clothes, but your free hand clutched at his t-shirt with enthusiasm.

His lips left yours only when the world started spinning and your mind turned blank besides the thought of Steve’s mouth being on yours and how much you loved it when he stole all the breath from your lungs – and how much you always missed him when he withdrew.

You stared at him, dumbstruck, as he watched you like you were the eighth wonder of the world, your messy self in baggy clothes, your heart growing three times its size, your insides positively tingly from the heated make-out session.

Steve was smiling again too at last, brushing your nose with his and planting one last soft kiss on your lips.

“Okay, babygirl, now hand over the brush.”

You had to blink several times, your oh so lazy brain taking its time to realize what he said. Huh? Also, did he just said it as if he was asking you were a robber holding a hostage on gunpoint and he was asking you to lay down your weapon?

The thought made you internally snort.

“Why?” you demanded, suspicious.

“Because I’m taking over.”

You instantly shook your head. “No-“

“Yes. I promise I’ll make sure it’s spotless-“

Okay, yeah, that was one of our arguments against him doing the clean-up. However, there was one more. “But you still have papers to grade and lessons to prepare!”

“And you want to cook too and then we’ll have to clean up the kitchen. And you’ll want to take a shower and and and. Papers can wait. Gimme the brush.”

“You make it sound like it’s a weapon of mass destruction… or I am,” you muttered, but you kissed his cheek – such a strange feeling, you truly missed the sensation of his beard scraping your lips – and climbed out of his lap with a meek and cautious thank you. He cackled at your antics, but quickly fished out a new pair of gloves from the bathroom drawer and started working.

You swallowed your smart remark about him being the Cinderella now. Mostly because his gesture was one of the sweetest things and really – seeing Steve scrubbing the bathtub might not be the sexiest thing in the world… but it kinda was.

It pulled at your heartstrings as you imagined that this might be how it would always be; you and Steve, settling together, taking care of the household, then cuddling on the couch—the domesticity you hadn’t always been sure you craved.

Now you were certain of it; but to get to that, you had to survive your parents’ visit first.  

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You had somewhat stayed in touch with your parents, mostly with your mum; you two had been calling on a so-so regular basis, sometimes with video, and both her and your father were obviously aware that you had a boyfriend (gee, that sounded kinda trivial, a boyfriend). In fact, Steve played a huge role in them deciding to purchase their plane tickets… besides wanting to see New York City… and you.

The thing was… you had managed to keep Steve’s identity secret so far; you never used a videocall when he was around, so your mum only had heard his voice, sweet and polite in the most Steve fashion possible, you sort-of danced around his age and his job. Yeah, you found it strange as well that you kept it up so long, a divine intervention even; or maybe your mum simply had a good idea of your dirty secret all along and purposely didn’t probe.

Now, with your parents in the apartment, your dad’s eyes more on Steve than on you (your mum’s eyes wandered too, you noticed, but she had enough decency to show you she missed you first), you felt dread fill every cell in your body. Your heart was pounding in your chest with too much ferocity, your temples pulsing, your palms uncharacteristically sweaty and if it wasn’t for Steve’s warm hand on your lower back, its weight oh so comforting, you might spontaneously combust because of your nerves.

You were suddenly entirely grateful that Steve had shaved off his beard, was giving less of a an incredibly hot (and still very young, thank you very much) professor vibe and looked--- well, kinda like he could be your classmate.

But of course, of course the subject came up. Inevitably, after the small talk about your parents’ flight, about how their job was going and if they picked up a new hobby (…or heard some gossip), you and Steve became the centre of attention.

First, things went smoothly enough; you talked a bit about school, about Penny and some of your classmates and professors, about your part-time job. Steve had been subtly drawing small comforting circles on your thigh whenever he wasn’t eating and he in fact succeeded in lowering your heartbeat so much that you might appear even calm.

And then it oh so predictably went to shit.

Because apparently, your materialistic father had to ask Steve what he was studying and what his plan for his future career was.

“I actually finished my studies,” Steve admitted in an admirably dispassionate manner.

Meanwhile, your own heart started racing again, sending you to the verge of a cardiac arrest; your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, but a hint of a smile played in the corners of his lips in effort to remain polite… for now.

“Oh? Was that recently?”

You deflected that question by bringing up the pie and snatching Steve with you to bring it to the table since you two were the hosts.

The question forgotten, your mum – god bless her, she had caught up enough to know you did not want to discuss Steve’s age, even if it wasn’t that bad – asked about Steve’s field of study.

“History, minoring in pedagogics.”

“Oh? So you are a history teacher?” your dad chimed in and you swallowed as Steve confirmed that claim, walking straight into a death trap. You had seen it coming, you had, but you still winced when your father’s icy tone cut the almost festive atmosphere. “And it wouldn’t be that you’re more of a university professor, would it?”

His hand balled into a fist on the table, your mother’s lightly covering it as she whispered his name; the gesture of comfort, a silent plea for him to stay calm, didn’t quite work.

Steve, to his benefit, looked only a bit sheepish, meeting your dad’s eye with bravery worth of the Disney prince you had called him earlier that day. Also, with the same honesty… why hadn’t you agreed on lying to them again?

“It would, sir.”

“Oh. I don’t suppose then that it is a coincidence that you two met in school?” your dad continued and you sighed, your breathing progressively turning into a more and more of a difficult task with the anticipation of a storm.

“It is not, sir,” Steve replied calmly and you honestly didn’t know whether you should kiss him or punch him, unsure if his attitude made your father madder or not. “However-“

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and enraged; you felt yourself sink into your chair involuntarily, your mind travelling years back to the moments when he wasn’t pleased with you at all, yelled and sputtered words tasting of venom.

“Do you have any explanation for this inappropriate joke?” you father hissed, not caring he interrupted whatever Steve was about to say to your defence.

Your chest grew heavy, edges of your vision blurring subtly; your eyes burned and suddenly, you weren’t only remembering. You were reliving a memory, feeling like your child-self, like your teenage-self, being scolded for every imperfection; and there had been generous amount of those as you had been growing up.

Steve’s hand somehow slid under the table again, squeezing yours, a gentle wave of attempted comfort washing over you.

But it took one glance at him and you understood that silent support was not the only goal of his when he sought your touch.

His jaw was set tight, his grip a little too strong; he was trying to maintain composure, while not at all impressed with the tone your father was speaking with you.

Yet, Steve’s gesture did provide you with something you hadn’t had whenever you faced your father before; strength and true support, the essential reminder that you had done nothing wrong.

“Dad, this is not a joke,” you said, your voice shaking only slightly as you squeezed Steve’s hand back, “Steve and I are dating. Yes, he is teaching at the same college I study, but-“

A fist hit the table, causing the remaining tableware clank with the force behind the blow and you winced in fright, all muscles tensing in an instant.

“There is no ‘but’ applicable in this case!” your father spitted out, the anger in his voice making your guts twist, the sting in your eyes intensifying. “We help you to pay for school so you could study, not sleep around!”

Several things happened at once; your mother admonished your father, a level-headed whisper of his name. Your voice, too quiet as always when your father reprimanded you, tried to protest, to defend yourself.  And Steve’s patience ran out, his outrage at your father’s demeanour showing.

“Paul-“

“That’s not what’s-“

“Don’t talk to her like that!“

“You keep your mouth shut now,” you father snapped at Steve, pointing a finger at him accusingly before turning his rage towards you again, the deep disappointment in his eyes somehow more hurtful than the anger. “Is it that bad with your grades that you have to—to--- Jesus Christ.“

The world stopped for several frantic beats of your heart, everything else in standstill. Multiple sharp breaths were drawn in, but you didn’t think either of them was yours.

Your father’s unfinished sentence echoed in your ears as if from a terrible distance and just like that—just like that, you were thrown several months back to the days before your graduation.

Rogers’ whore

Bet she’ll get the highest score

The icy feeling that froze your bones and crystalized the blood in your veins made for a stark contrast to the few hot tears you were distantly aware of that were running down your cheeks.

Many had thought of you that you were a set of holes to fill for the professor in exchange for passing an exam or two, which was disgusting, deeply insulting and obviously wrong. But those people didn’t know you- they weren’t your blood.

Your own father was now seconds from calling you a whore. The dinner turned into a stone in your stomach as the verbal punch knocked all air from your lungs.

“Paul!” you heard a swift reproach, quickly followed by Steve’s voice, dangerously low in a threat. “I’m sorry, what did you just imply about her?”

“You zip it-“

“Paul!”

It felt like a fucking elephant stomped on your chest, the spiral of pity and despair, mocking voices swirling wildly, tossing you around with a quickening speed as the circles got smaller and smaller, as if you were circling down the drain, your breaths coming shorter and shorter too-

And yet your father still continued, ignorant to all warnings and your inner turmoil.

“That’s over, my dear. I refuse to support such disgusting thing. And you, I don’t see how it’s possible that you still have your job-“

“DAD!” a loud cry cut off the monologue and it took you a moment to realize that it was you who just snapped and yelled, despite the unmistakable addressing.

Your father stared at you in mute shock as you dared to interrupt him; and frankly, with the world spinning, your stomach twisted and your chest constricted with anxiety, you were shocked by your actions too.

It was the fact that he doubted Steve’s position at the uni, flashed through your mind, the way he insulted the man you loved and who deserved all the good things. Or maybe it was his fucking attitude towards Steve and you in general and you just finally reached your limit. You weren’t sure; but shit, this ended now.

The silence that fell on the room granted you a few moments to breathe and calm your frantic mind.

“He is not using me like some f-“ -fuckdoll- “-fling or whatever. And he’s not even my professor, he’s-“

“Like it matters!” you father snapped from his trance, spitting the words, a vein on his temple visibly popping up as he rose to his feet swiftly, nearly sending the chair flying to the ground.

You stared up at him, the coil of despair and rage in your gut burning hot as he literally looked down on you.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You hadn’t been ready for your father to despise you for being in a relationship with a great man, to judge you so harshly without being able to listen for a damn second.

“It DOES. But even if he was-“ you tried to explain again, losing patience and the ground under your feet too as Steve’s hand started practically crushing the bones of yours.

You could physically feel Steve trying to hold back and slowly succumb to his not so nice emotions no doubt swirling in him just like in you.

“How can you not see that’s he’s only looking to get his---” your father gestured wildly towards Steve and rather low and you could hear Steve’s teeth grinding at the implication. Your blood reached the boiling point. How dared he to- “-that he’s only seeking a physical thing-“

“That’s not what this is. I love your daughter-“ Steve emphasized, expression fiery, voice surprisingly measured for a man who you believed was one moment from punching your father.

“Sure you do, son, until something with long legs and tall heels walks by-“

Steve’s chair scrapped against the floor and you quickly laid a palm over his chest to stop him from jumping to his feet and succumb to his righteous anger.

“Steve-“ you whispered soothingly, seeing the light tremble to his hands, tendons dancing under his shirt with the effort to hold back.

“Paul, that’s enough,” your mother interjected, grabbing her husband’s wrist to keep him back as well.

“I do love your daughter, I respect her and I fully intend-“

Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled shakily to compose himself. In the very back of your mind, you spared a single thought to what he was going to say before he shook his head and looked your father dead in the eye again.

“-I am serious about her and I want to and will be with her as long as she’ll have me.”

You had two full seconds to sink into the gentle sentiment behind his words, to cherish how much he did respect your choices and strangely, how he still doubted he could be enough for you, before your father scoffed dismissively.

“Well, I hope you are serious, because if she comes crawling back in few weeks, the door and the account will be closed.” He shot you one disdainful look that made your heart stop before twisting his arm from your mother’s hold and stepping away from the table. “We’re leaving.”

Your eyes slipped shut, a fresh wave of hot tears painting your cheeks, all strength leaving your body, darkness enveloping your mind.

He was cutting you off. He was going to disown you no doubt; that much of a disappointment you were to him.

Your own father hated you.

Dull ringing filled your ears, muffling your mother’s low voice.

“I’m so sorry for his behaviour.” She sounded truly regretful, her voice quivering a bit, you thought. “I’ll talk to him about what he said. Thank you for the dinner, baby. It was nice to meet you, Steve, truly.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve responded firmly, his voice the only solid thing in the room. “I’ll—I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s not necessary, Steve. But thank you. I’ll call you, sweetheart.”

A low whisper about a promise fell from her lips next as she brushed your shoulder, but you couldn’t hope to understand what she was saying, the buzz of blood in your ears growing louder.

And then you knew she was gone along with your father. You knew because a warm hand touched yours, another gently wiping way the endless waterfall of your tears and then you were pulled to your feet and practically dragged to the couch in Steve’s protective embrace.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You wouldn’t be able to tell how long you were drenching Steve’s shirt in tears, sobbing into his chest as he held you firmly and yet tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, words of comfort empty and yet so meaningful.

You couldn’t tell how long it took for the tremble subdue, for the sobs to turn into sniffles and then die out entirely.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so so sorry,” Steve whispered to your hair, caressing your scalp, your back the next, dropping a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know,” you creaked back, gripping the fabric of his shirt for one last time before you gathered your breath and courage to face him; you had to. You might be a mess, but it was vital that he heard you say this: “It’s not your fault.”

You withdrew slightly, meeting his eyes, so big and regretful, a bit watery as if he was the one crying. The corners of his lips, apparently having been turned down the whole time, twitched, his whole face twisting in a grimace; little sad, little defiant, but he didn’t protest even though you were certain that he wanted to.

Perhaps it was a testimony of how well you two fit, how your thoughts worked on the same wavelengths; you understood what he must have been thinking. If you were dating literally anybody else, this wouldn’t have happened.

So you had to assure him that you didn’t blame him; even if he did so himself. You didn’t have the energy to be angry with him for such thing. Mostly because that in a way, there was a tiny bit of truth in him thinking so.

“Don’t do that to yourself. I chose you. Yes, this relationship is on both of us… but we knew the risks and went for it anyway. And—it’s worth it, it’s just… fuck, this is so fucked up. I’m in such a mess now,” you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears burned in your eyes.

Steve’s fingers were quick to dry your cheeks, gently stroking, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“We are, babygirl. We’re in this together. What’s mine is yours,” Steve said, determined. You couldn’t find yourself sharing his optimism, but his eyes locked onto yours, serious as his words. “We’ll figure it out. Find ways of saving more. Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll try to find a job that pays better-”

Your palms landed on his chest, pushing away, putting some distance between you; his hand dropped from your face.

Say WHAT?

“Absolutely not!” you protested instantly, sobering from your despair and letting indignation take over, ignoring entirely the voice in your head sweetly nudging you with the idea of what Steve was willing to give up for you. “I’ll drop off college before I let you give up being a professor, Steve-- you are made-“

“Not an option, sweetheart,” he shot back instantly, expression turning strict. “You leaving college is off the table.”

Mentally, you threw your hands up in the air, growing confused and frustrated by the minute.

“Why? How is that different from you finding a new job, giving up something you worked for so hard?”

“The difference is,” Steve raised his voice slightly, speaking slowly as if he wanted you to remember every word, “-that the chances are that I could come back at some point, that I might only lose a few years. You dropping off, on the other hand, would affect your whole future.”

The same exasperation you felt burned in his eyes now and you gulped, realization hitting you that… yeah, okay, that was a good point. But you hated it anyway.

“…okay, that’s a fair point. But I rather work three jobs and didn’t sleep at all than seeing you leave the university.”

“And work yourself to the ground? I don’t think so, babygirl,” Steve shook his head, just a smidge of patronizing which stung more than you would expect.

Obviously, he was presenting you with more of a feasible option, but you had a feeling that the primal instinct to be the provider played a role in his attitude too – and at any given moment besides this one you would like that; you were completely fine with him wanting to ensure you were secured, taking the larger portion of the burden on his shoulders.

Except now it reminded you of your father in the worst possible way despite knowing that the sentiment was nothing but sweet, no malice in his intentions. It chased tears into your eyes.

Steve’s expression instantly melted, panic flashing in his eyes as he must have figured out that this was not the right thing to say… or not the right way.

His hands were quick to frame you face, tender but unwavering, forcing you to look him straight in the eye.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s just… we’ll work it out, somehow, okay? We can even move out and share an apartment with someone else if we need to. Though you’re forgetting I used to pay this rent and bills on my own.”

Your lower lip quivered, your heart fluttering in fondness for this incredible man, your chest constricted at the idea of taking anything away from him, even if it was comfort. God, the distance he was willing to walk…

“You were living on school cafeteria food and ramen,” you mumbled, corners of your lips twitching upwards for the shortest moment.

Steve’s smile, on the other hand, was almost blinding, tight-lipped but honest, thumbs sweeping at the tears that appeared yet again.

“See, another possibility to save money. Don’t cry, my pretty girl…” he pleaded lowly, kissing your nose before shaking his head lightly. “Or cry if you need to. I’m here, sweetheart, okay? Whatever you need.”

Shit, your heart couldn’t hope to contain this amount of love-

How could anyone ever doubt Steve was the right man for you? The best man? The most wonderful loving human being? How did your father think he was just looking for a mindless fuck?

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, smiling through your tears. “Fuck my father. He can’t bully me into being his perfect daughter by cutting me off, can’t make me behave. There’s nothing wrong with me loving you.”

“Or me loving you.”

There was no questioning his honesty; it was written all over his features, his irises bright with emotion. And yet, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, insecurity, your old friend, crawling into your head.

“You do, really? Even with my asshole of a dad?”

You didn’t mean it. Entirely. Though momentarily, your dad was being an asshole, not for the first time.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re my everything,” Steve promised, releasing your face in order to tuck messy loose strands of your hair behind your ears.

“That’s the sweetest thing to say, but you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth-“ Oh. Even though… maybe that would be an option? “Well, technically-“

All the gentle warmth radiating from Steve’s expression turned ice cold, smile dropping so fast it startled you.

“Don’t you even-“

“Hey, why not, I mean how much do you think-“

“Stop that right now!” Steve’s voice cut you off, razor sharp voice as if cutting into your skin.

You flinched at the mental blow on instinct, air stuck in your throat, muscles in your back straightening enough to inflict a sharp pounding in your head.

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling painstakingly slow, as if he got punched in his gut too. His fists on your sides clenched and unclenched, Adam’s apple bobbing. When he looked at you again, it was obvious he realized he had scared you – and that he regretted not keeping his anger in check.

“I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean for it to come out this harsh.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, focusing on nothing but your breathing and keeping yourself from sobbing again as you were reminded of your father’s yelling. With each long second, you could see Steve’s face twisting and his body sinking into the couch in shame.

Well. As much as you hated him snapping at you, you had to give it to him – it sobered you up. Frankly, you didn’t blame him for being so harsh.

But you were also aware that Steve was a painfully kind and gentle soul and he never wanted to be rough with you… well, except under certain very consensual special circumstances.

“I know,” you forced an unconvincing smile, laying your palm on his cheek, affection Steve was quick to lean into with a sigh – probably both relieved and content. “I’m sorry for talking stupid.”

He covered your hand with his, carefully manipulating it so he could brush his lips over your palm.

“You’re not, not really. Our heads are a mess, rightfully so. I know people still do that, some purely by choice, but—I don’t want that for you, ever. That’s the same level on a will-never-happen scale like you not continuing your masters. Not an option for me. You’re my girl and if someone’s gonna change their habits, it’s gonna be me first.”

The surge of affection at his words filled your stomach with butterflies, wrapping around you like the softest and warmest comforter.

Great, now you wanted to cry for a whole different reason.

“I don’t deserve you,” spilled from your lips before you could think twice. Steve’s sweet smile made its return.

“Other way around, babygirl. Other way around…. Now how does a bath and a bed sound?”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve hadn’t planned on you and him having a bath when making the suggestion. He found a bath-bomb even and few candles so the light wouldn’t have to be on and hurt your previously teary eyes.

But then you looked at him with wide eyes, pleading and so vulnerable, a single look so heartfelt that it would make the devil’s black heart break and the angels weep – and he was done for, sinking into the bath with you even if the bathtub was not meant for more than one person, especially when one of them was of Steve’s built.

He couldn’t tell you no. Less so after the shitstorm the dinner had turned into.

Yes, Steve’s own emotions were running high, anger, disappointment and self-hatred he knew he couldn’t confess to, certainly not at the moment, but you. You were the priority here because he had a feeling that no matter how overwhelmed he felt, he had nothing on you.

The ceramics of the tub was hard against his back and against his knees at the side, but you fit into his arms and between his legs so perfectly and contentedly that he wouldn’t dare to complain. Head in the crook of his neck, your back to his chest, you melted into him, eyes closed, fingers absently and yet affectionately running over his forearms above water, sometimes along his calves.

You didn’t talk much, mostly repeating that it wasn’t his fault, that you loved him – something he found himself echoing every time – and it slipped through your lips too that while you would never change the fact that you picked him… you were sorry for being a disappointment to your father.

At that, something in Steve’s chest cracked and he swore to himself – that he would never ever be the cause of you feeling like a disappointment. And why would he – you were his perfect girl, his best girl. As much as he regretted that he indirectly did have a hand in making you feel like this now, he wouldn’t change who you were to each other and who you were had he had the chance. Never.

What he could do was to hold you tighter after your admission and whisper more sweet nonsense that made perfect sense to him to your ear.

By the time the water got cold, you were practically asleep, completely groggy, pliant. Somehow, you both climbed from the tub without sustaining any injury. He might have been holding you upright a bit as you both brushed your teeth and pulled on a pyjama.

You fell asleep almost instantly, face hidden in Steve’s chest, few stray tears dampening his sleepshirt as you mumbled one more love confession into the fabric.

“I love you, Steve... I’m sorry… you have to put up with such bullshit…” Your words slurred but Steve didn’t need to hear them to understand what you were saying.

He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the sting of guilt in his gut.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, earning a hum that might have been a sign of contentment… or you being entirely drained. “Let’s go to sleep now. Clearer head in the morning.”

Another hum and then nothing but your deep slow breathing, the last remnants of tension leaving your body.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve didn’t think he would follow you to the dreamland anytime soon, too agitated, thoughts swirling wildly in his head, but he caught himself snapping back to consciousness at some point, unsure when he fell asleep – and what woke him up.

An intrusive buzzing on your nightstand provided him with the answer, your phone lit up.

Steve spared you one glance as you stirred only to nuzzle deeper into his frame, sighing.

As carefully as he could so he wouldn’t wake you, he stretched over you and checked who was calling.

Blood crystalized in his veins, heart sent into frenzy as he read a simple short word.

Mom.

He squeezed the side button, silencing the vibration as he pondered what to do; and yet, even as his heart jumped to his throat – as if he was a teenager about to face his girlfriend’s parents after he took her virginity – he had already made a decision, accepting the call as you sank into the cushions without him as a pillow.

He slipped from the room as silently and quickly as possible, announcing himself before you mother could say something not meant for his ears.

“Oh. Hello, Steve,” your mother greeted him, clearly surprised – but much to Steve’s relief, not angry.

He could do this, he could talk to your mother even with the lump in his throat; could have been much worse. Could have been your father and Steve wasn’t so sure if he would manage him. For one, he would hate to be reminded, once again, of what the numerous hate letters had told him about being a total perv; for two, Steve feared he might exchange words with your father that couldn’t have been taken back and would seal the damage done to the relationship with your parents .

“I’m sorry, ma’am. She fell asleep and—I can wake her, of course, but-“ He stumbled over his words and was immensely grateful when your mother saved him from his misery; more se when she said what she did.

“-but she had a rough night. We all did. I’m okay to talk to you, Steve.”

“Alright… how can I help, ma’am?”

“Tell me how bad she is, Steve? She stopped crying before she falling asleep?” the woman on the other side asked softly, causing Steve’s heart to squeeze in a painful memory of his own kind mother, God bless her soul.

And perhaps it was that very memory that encouraged him to speak openly, the genuine worry of a mother who cared deeply for her child, her heart full of love.

How such woman could end up with such an asshole and stay with him was beyond Steve’s understanding, but he certainly wasn’t in position to judge the choices of the women in your family – after all, he was your choice and there was a long line of people who looked at the two with disdain.

“For a while,” Steve admitted with a sigh, his gaze automatically flickering towards the bedroom. “She’s—she feels like she disappointed you in a way, she’s scared of the what’s next, but she’s angry too, because she doesn’t think she did anything wrong by being with me.”

And Steve thought the same… to a point. Didn’t matter that sometimes he would find himself in a dark place where he simply awaited the moment you’d change your mind and left him; for someone your age, with better looks, someone smarted, someone funnier, someone who didn’t have to shave off his beard just so your parents made it through the front door without yelling.

Such gloomy images always left him more desperate than he was comfortable admitting and with searing jealousy in his gut.

He needed you. Yes, he’d survive if you left – but he was certain that you’d take his heart with him, leaving him unable to fall in love ever again… or to feel whole, for that matter.

“She wouldn’t leave you to get her financial support back, Steve,” sounded gently on the other end of the line and Steve’s heart skipped a beat in alarm, brief wonder if he had said any of his latest thoughts out loud.

He supposed he didn’t – your mother was just too intuitive, just like his used to be. He gulped against his dry throat, suddenly guilty for – in a way – forcing you to leave them.

“…I suppose not… I’m sorry if-- it was never my intention to steal your daughter from you, but I’m- I’m not gonna pretend I mind that she would rather be with me than had her money.”

“This is not your doing, Steve, don’t you think I don’t know that,” she continued, a subtle smile in her voice, Steve thought. “And it’s good that she’s willing to make this choice. We wouldn’t want the bride to get cold feet, after all.”

Steve’s heart stopped altogether, he was sure of it. Colour him mortified.

How the hell—but- she couldn’t--- he hadn’t proposed yet and he- what?

His stomach twisted in a tight knot. He couldn’t but ask, voice barely above whisper.

“…how did you know?”

“You stopped yourself mid-sentence, Steve. And as cliché as it sounds, you had fire in your eyes, defending my daughter. It is clear to me that you are serious about her, that you love her, and from the little I heard about you, you are the kind of man who would put a ring on it to seal the deal.”

You mother was definitely smiling now and Steve found himself doing the same, even if the lift of his lips turned sour.

“I would have asked for parents’ blessings, but…”

“I give it,” she was quick to assure him and Steve’s breath hitched, his chest puffing with pride, filling with endless relief and joy. Your mother approved of him. Even knowing who he was, how old he was, how—she was willing to give him her blessing! “You seem like a good man, Steve.”

Steve was both embarrassed and ridiculously proud when he realized he was blinking against tears gathering in his eyes, enormous weight falling from his shoulders.

“That, uhm—that means a lot, truly,” he choked out, swiftly clearing his throat, the embarrassment definitely winning now. He had to get it together before he gave out how weak he could be in front of your mother… she had given her blessing; she could easily take it back.

“I like you, Steve. You’re a good blend of an old-fashioned and modern man. Don’t mess it up and keep my daughter happy.”

“I will try my best, ma’am,” he declared in an instant, meaning every word.

A sigh sounded from the speaker. “That’s all I ask for… now the less happy reason to call. I talked to Paul, but he… I’m sorry, Steve, as for now, he still isn’t fond of you.” That didn’t surprise Steve, but it hurt nonetheless. Then again, he was grateful that your mother tried to put in a good word for him; that meant a lot too. “He only agreed to pay for three more months.”

Steve’s free hand balled into fist, the other clutching the phone considerably tighter as hot surge of anger flooded his veins.

Three more payments. As if the relationship with your family was a damn job contract and this was the notice period.

Steve was sure he was going to be sick.

“Thank you. That’s… we appreciate it,” he managed to grit through his teeth, trying his damnest to remember that he wasn’t mad at the sweet woman – only at her husband.

“You really are a good man, Steve. You’re good for her. I’m glad she found you.”

Steve would once again be entirely joyful at being at least your mother’s favour, but he heard you call out his name from the bedroom, low, hoarse and utterly confused and all he could focus on was the idea of you, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair and still adorable, looking for him in the dark room with a pout to your lips.

“Steve?” your mother called out unsurely and Steve snapped from his reverie.

“Sorry, uhm, she’s awake-- do you want me to hand you over or-“ he blurted out swiftly, hoping the answer would be no as he couldn’t wait to crawl back to bed with you.

“No, just tell her I called. I believe you two have things to talk about. Take care of my daughter, Steve. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jane, Steve,” she offered kindly just as Steve heard the soft patting on your fluffy socks on the floor.

“Yes, Jane,” he corrected himself then, unable to contain the satisfaction as he tested the name on his tongue. “Thank you, really. Goodnight.”

He ended the call as you emerged from the bedroom, squinting to the low light, your eyes instantly finding him – he automatically smiled for you, unsubtly splaying his arms wide. You didn’t hesitate, aiming straight into his embrace even if it was at snail pace.

It was funny and strange and wonderful how Steve still loved simply holding you, his heart calmer the moment he found you melting into his frame. Christ, he loved you… and clearly, your mother noticed; he was so obvious, that-

“You were gone,” you muttered into his chest discontentedly, nuzzling into him and Steve automatically cradled you to him tighter.

“Sorry, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admitted bluntly, propping your chin on his torso to look up at him, eyes growing wide and surprisingly soft with emotion. “More so because I was talking stupid and crying into your shirt instead of comforting you after my dad accused you of the things that--- those things that aren’t right.”

Steve felt the painful nudge to his consciousness, because he knew there always would be some truth to ‘those’ words; but you were here to dilute the pain and make it all better. Your care for his well-being served like a shield for the sticks and stones for now at least, when you were the priority. You had it worse at the moment, no matter what his former colleague had accused him of in those hate letters – and now your father.

“Hey, no. Don’t worry about me now.”

You gazed into his eyes, pushing on your tiptoes to peck his lips and the small gesture of affection was like a balm to his soul, much like your words.

“But I do. Always. I love you, Steve… I’m sorry we can’t catch a break… but we’ll… somehow, we’ll push through, right?” you whispered, hopeful and wistfully determined and Steve could only nod, feeling the corners of his lips rising.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re my girl.”

“And you’re my guy. My prince charming,” you hummed, cradling his unusually smooth cheek, irises full of wonder, the sensation was as foreign to you as it was to him. But it was your babble that made him chuckle, the nickname that seemed to catch on; you were too cute for words. “Guess I am Cinderella after all and somehow you accidentally fell in love with me.”

“Damn right I did,” he confirmed, brushing your forehead with his lips before tugging you back to the bedroom. “Not all that glitters is gold.”

“True. Though you might have some glitter from the bathbomb on you.”

“Cheeky girl.”

He didn’t bother pretending to be offended or grumpy; he was simply too happy to see some of your snarky teasing side making its return, that was always a good sign.

“I try… but really, are you okay?”

Steve didn’t respond at first, climbing to the bed, manoeuvring you to his arms where you belonged and fit so naturally. Only when the lights were out and you were both comfortable, he replied, truthfully.

“I will be. I have you. Plus, your mum seems to be okay with me.”

More than okay, apparently.

Steve’s heart fluttered with a bit of nerves as his mind wandered to the ring he kept in the very room you fell asleep every night.

“As she should,” you hummed, sounding very pleased. “She has a nose for good people. And you’re the best.”

“After you at least.”

“Best man, then,” you argued playfully and Steve was perfectly content to have you think that. It would play in his favour when he would finally find the courage to sink to one knee in front of you.

“Well, I’m certainly a lucky one… I have the best woman.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest over the fabric of his sleepshirt and sighing blissfully. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you too.”

If you only knew how much…

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

Stockings (next in timeline)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Wink wink. I once again stretched this quite a bit, but hopefully you reached this very end without skipping something ;)

Thank you for reading and extra thanks if you happen to like, reblog and/or comment. Stay safe and happy!

(Also, to American friends: I hope you'll have better Thanksgiving than this ;) )

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #professor steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #college au #captain america #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #attached #attached: words we don't mean #attached one shot #anika ann

[vanillasakura]

IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music 

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted 

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

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Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy. 

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it. 

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to. 

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her. 

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing. 

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but. 

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman. 

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable. 

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in. 

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.” 

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.” 

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. 

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.” 

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next. 

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh. 

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.” 

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?” 

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?” 

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment. 

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on. 

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled. 

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

#rdrsapphicweek2021 #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #abigail marston #molly o'shea #rdr2 community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #my writing #fanfiction #wlw #sapphic

[adiabolikpastel]

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Karlheinz pt. 3

Rating: NSFW | PG-18

Word Count: 1,947

Pairing: Karlheinz x Skye (m/m)

ღ As the part unwinds, Skye is finally able to take a breath. Though maybe there is something else on Karl's mind, as the moons affects finally seem to reach him. ღ

Mun Yu: We did it! These are the last pieces of the LEM story. The end to our Lunar Eclipse. I hope that you have enjoyed the ride, and gotten to know the stories on this blog better! Tune in at the end of it all for Authors Notes!

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Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening

While he was sure others had a marvelous time at the event, Skye was exhausted. It was one thing to organize and watch something happen from afar. Being one of the hosts was completely different. There was never a moment of peace. At any time someone would come up to speak with Karl, and he would have to smile and pretend to be interested.

It was enough to just be seen and not heard. How did his wives ever deal with this? Then again, they were probably all bread for this kind of thing. After departing from Shu and his new bride, Karl had insisted on taking Ajax and his wife with him on a tour. But not before getting Burai – what were these three frat brothers?

To see Karlheinz in this light was rather amusing. Not that he was very different, but one could tell that the three men had a special bond about them. Perhaps that wasn’t something Skye could understand. He wasn’t too keen on the history here in the Demon Realm, but he did know that there used to be battles constantly. These three must have been allies through all of that. Or perhaps they were enemies which Karl subdued? Skye wasn’t sure which.

“And then, wouldn’t you know it, Meteo surprised us with a visit! It was glorious to see him! Xyander and Xylon met him for the first time. Hard to think they are already three and never met their brother. My son has been so busy – but Stevi and Helios were excited to see him. Little Onan was sleeping, but I am sure they are having a great time while we are away.” Ajax prattled on and on while they walked through the castle. Skye couldn’t help but roll his eyes, just how many kids did this guy have?!

“Dear, you speak of our children much too much. Your castle is beautiful as always, Karlheinz. Thank you again for allowing us the honor of visiting. Even if it was just to swoop away with our daughter.” His wife chimes, wearing a smile, but her words drip with venom.

Karl laughed slightly at her, Skye could tell that it was mostly in triumph. “Now Catalina, we both know that Ajax would never simply give away something so precious. Callista will be well taken care of, of that I assure you.” Karl offered her comfort, but it was more so in an attempt to get the matter dropped. He had won, there was no sense in her dwelling on the past.

“Honestly, the fuss you all make over children.” Burai finally speaks. “That is why you have them one at a time. Devote what you can, then move on.”

“That is an interesting stance, though, given your record my friend – I wouldn’t lead with it.” Karl states, in reference to Burai being not only his friend, but his ex-father-in-law.

“I would choose one child every century- millennia even - over the amount you both have.” The Demon shivered, disgusted by the idea it seemed. “They are simply a means to an end. We must produce them to preserve the line and power, but nothing more.”

“That is not true! My children bring me such joy! You cannot say that you feel nothing when you look at your son now!”

“I won’t comment on that.” Burai simply answers, as Ajax berates him with further justifications of his unending love for his offspring.

Skye walks quietly next to Karl while the demons talk amongst themselves. He was ready to retire for the evening, and as they came back into the ballroom, he was glad to see most of the guests had gone. Especially at least half of Karl’s sons – all that remained were Kanato, Shu and Reiji… wait! Was Reiji seriously trying to take Shu’s dance!?

“Well isn’t that quite the problem.” Karl muses beside him. “Seems those two just cannot get along.” Skye knew that this had to be part of a larger plan. Karl doesn’t simply do anything. There is always a motive.

“Callista my dear!” Ajax’s voice boomed from behind them, the large demon B-lining straight to his daughter. He did not seem upset by her daughter being in the arms of someone other than the man he had just left her with.

“It is still a mystery how that man became a Demon Lord.” Burai comments stepping up to Karlheinz. “He is a fool.”

“Some just have other reasons for fighting. He is plenty powerful to make up for the fool. Not to mention his wife does a fairly decent job keeping things in check.” He shrugs it off, watching the ever doting father collect his daughter. “What of you? Any plans I should know about for a future love affair?”

Burai scoffs, “My last child is still alive, so do not count on it.” He says, gesturing to someone. Skye looked in the direction, hoping it would be Alrick. To his surprise, a woman seemed to respond to the signal. She was dressed in a floor length gown, but not something fancy, something closer to a maid’s outfit really. Was this a familiar? Her appearance was almost human; very bland everything. There wasn’t even a demonic presence about her.

“You have summoned me, Lord Burai?” Whoever this was, they were most certainly a servant. Not looking up even slightly, that was some quality training.

“We are leaving.” Burai dictates, the young maid bowing and excuses herself. “You celebrations are nice, however, please do keep me off any intimidate affairs. I have little time to deal with such things.” Almost as quickly as he finished his sentence the strange woman was back, and helping him put on his coat. Perhaps she was a familiar.

“You are the last person I would want to have anything intimate with, my friend.” Karl waves off the demon lord, and escorts Skye to the head of the room. Skye looked back at the Snake demon to see if Alrick was going to show up.

Instead, he saw this supposed happy bachelor prude, actually link arms with the servant! What a hypocritical- oh god was that a kiss!? Skye couldn’t believe it. Even if it was on the hand, that ass hole. Giving everyone the ‘oh look at me – I’m all business. Big bad demon lord’. He couldn’t wait to tell Alrick about it later.

“You are quite distracted. I think that’s enough sharing you for one day.” Karl’s voice brings Skye out of his train of thought. “Come, we shall retire for the evening.” His voice was soft, as if he was purposely only allowing Skye to hear.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to imply something, my king.” Skye knew that there was no way this night was not going to end without the two of them becoming intimate. Honestly he was pretty tired. Not to mention, it was his impression that the Bloody Moon was supposed to affect the bat clan. Here the night is over and Karl’s been the same. Rip off.

Karl laughed a little at Skye’s comment, “Haha, you know me too well.” He moves a hand around Skye’s waist, holding him close. Within moments the two of them were moved out of the ballroom and into their room. Well, this was the room they typically fooled around in. Skye knew this wasn’t Karl’s room – he actually doubted that the man slept at all.

Skye smiles up at Karl and moves over to the bed, sitting on the edge, crossing his legs. “I must say, that was fun being your little arm candy ~ I don’t think there was a single person who missed it.” That thought sent shivers up his spine. What a thrill it was to be seen. Not to mention seen by all those stuck up demons who would normally look down on him.

Karl watches Skye bask in the afterglow of their appearance. What a strange creature he was, actually wanting to be the center of the universe. Yet at this moment, Karl felt like that role suited Skye more than any other. “Yes, you were magnificent, my siren.” His praise seemed to affect him, as their eyes were soon looking over one another.

With a smirk on his face, Karl summoned his magic to disrobe the cape which was draped over his shoulder. Whilst he undid the buttons on his vest, and loosened the tie around his neck. “So well in fact,” He stepped out of his shoes, and allowed magic to take his discarded clothing off to be hung up. “I believe you deserve a reward.”

Skye was entranced by Karl’s mystical display. God it was always so hot to watch him strip. Way better than doing all that work himself. Just as Skye was about to do the same, Karl suddenly dipped down and knelt before him. “My King…?” Skye’s eyes widened. This man was not about to do something stupid, right?!

With a small laugh, Karl slowly started to take off Skye’s heels. “Your expression dictates you were thinking something absurd.” He softly kisses the top of Skye’s foot. “I am rewarding you for all the hard work you did for this night, not punishing you.” There was a hint of melancholy to his words.

Karl had no interest in submitting another to the role of his ‘wife’ again. The title was nothing but a front anyway. He had not loved anyone. Still loved no one. These ‘feelings’ for Skye - if they were love, Karl would have no idea. Their time together was an end to boredom alone. The means to a release. Though if that were completely true, Skye wouldn’t be as involved as he was with Karl’s professional life.

The boy was more than just his assistant here. In the Human World, he was even Tougo Sakamaki’s new face. People saw him more than they did the politician. Once Skye had finished school, he came onto the alias’ line of work, and began working as the personal secretary for the famed politician. Karl was sure that Skye would even be a nurse for Reinhert if he had asked.

Skye let out a soft mew in response to Karl’s gentle touches and kisses. This was new, he was never this gentle. It felt nice, especially since his feet were killing him from the heels. Beauty was so painful. He was happy that things were like this, how silly to think that Karlheinz would even consider a marriage. Well, it wasn’t like he honestly thought about it - it was more just the shock of him actually kneeling.

Though now that he got a good look - the sight of the Karlheinz was worshiping his feet. “Heh, my king~ I have to admit, mhmm, the sight of you down there… is really turning me on~” He says, moving his other foot to locate Karl’s groin.

Karl simply focuses on his task at hand. Slowly. Sweetly. Moving his lips up from Skye’s foot, up his leg. “Mm! My King… if you tease me so much I - ah!” Karl moves to just behind Skye’s knee - one of his biggest weak spots. Skye bites back another moan.

“Now that wont do.” Karl suddenly speaks and looks up at Skye. His eyes are full of desire. Hunger. Lust. “I want to hear you. Every sigh. Gasp. Moan. You will not hold anything back. In return, I shall spoil you. Every. Inch.” He smirks, wetting his lips, and picking up Skye’s other foot. “So. Be the beautiful siren you are meant to be. And submit yourself to my will.”

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ﾟ ｡. +ﾟ ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ROUTE END☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

#writing #Lunar Eclipse Masquerade #LEM

[haileyyanneupton]

close my eyes

CHICAGO P.D | JAY HALSTEAD X HAILEY UPTON 

WARNINGS: MENTION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, MENTION OF BLOOD

She had known for a while that he was her world. The way he looked at her made her stomach do backflips, every time his hands brushed up against her she would feel the tingling linger for what felt like forever. She would catch herself thinking about him all the time — after working herself into the independent and self-assured person she was, the fact that he was consuming her every thought was infuriating.

It had been a hard few days for Hailey. The intelligence unit had been working on a case involving a family who had been the subject of a robbery-turned-homicide where only one person survived — the seven year old daughter. Hailey had been the first one on the scene along with Vanessa after the two of them had offered to work patrol one night, the two women being the ones to discover the massacred mother and children. The mother had been raped and the surviving daughter sexually assaulted, leaving the intelligence unit to take on the case right after the crime scene was cleared.

"There was nothing we could have done, Hailey," Vanessa reminded the blonde haired woman gently after finding her standing over the sink in the locker room later that day. "They were gone before we even got there."

"There's a little girl who's all alone now. What's going to happen to her? She's only going to be thrown into the system and forgotten about — you of all people should know that."

"I do know that, but it still doesn't make it any more your fault."

"Maybe not. But I'm still the one who had to break the news to her today."

Vanessa frowned at the woman as she rubbed circles on her back comforting before giving Hailey some time alone, not knowing that Jay had been inadvertently eavesdropping from the other side of the lockers. As he came out and around, making his presence known, he watched as Hailey stared sadly into the basin as droplets of water fell from the forever leaky faucet.

She had always been there for him when he was going through a hard time. From flashbacks from his time in Afghanistan to when his father had passed away, his partner Hailey Upton could always be counted on for support. Hailey wasn’t one to show her emotions — Jay knew that — so seeing her standing here the way she was, so stressed and upset. . . it broke his heart. In more ways than she would ever know.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice was soft as he called out to his partner lightly. “You okay?”

Hailey flinched in surprise, though the motion was so slight that only she had noticed it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Jay seemed unconvinced, but the man didn’t want to push it. Hailey already seemed fragile enough to him since this case had started — it seemed that it had well and truly shaken her to the core.

“Well, you. . . you know if you. . . if you need anything. . .”

“I know.” Hailey forced a smile towards her partner as she ran her hands through her hair, turning to face him. “Thanks, Jay.”

As Hailey went to walk out of the locker room, Jay placed a hand on her shoulder in passing causing her heart to pound inside of her chest. At a time where it was crucial that she was on her a-game, a time where she needed to concentrate on solving the case, all she could think about was Jay and how much she was in love with him. How much she didn’t want to be in love with him, yet how much she loved being in love with him — the word love was floating around far too much in the woman’s mind. Never had she ever felt so vulnerable around another person, but with Jay — it was like her walls were melting down like hot wax and she wasn’t even aware of it.

In the end, the seven year old that Hailey and Vanessa had found at the house ended up having an aunt back in Indiana came and picked her up. Despite the fact that she knew now that the little girl had luckily avoided the system, despite the fact that they had put the guy who did this behind bars, Hailey still found herself feeling uneasy. She knew it was partly because of her feelings for Jay looming over her — after all, that one had been sticking around since before the case started — but the other part was something that left her hands shaky. You see some bad cases on the job — particularly in intelligence — but this one had hit her like a freight train and then dragged her heart along for the ride. The other part of what was leaving Hailey feeling unsteady was what she had seen that day with Vanessa. And while Vanessa could process it by talking to people about it, (Hailey knew that ‘people’ really meant Kevin though, and all of the nights she had come home after midnight after ‘talking’ really meant something else) Hailey wasn’t one to do that. She hadn’t ever been one to do that. In a way, it made her feel like a hypocrite — a quality she hated about herself.

Hailey was sitting at home alone one night later that week, part of her missing Vanessa as she went to go and ‘talk’ to ‘people’ for the third night in a row, when a knock sounded at the door. It had caught her off guard to say the least, the noise echoing through to her bones as she instinctively felt for the gun holstered on her hip, resting a hand atop of it just in case. It was always just in case with Hailey.

Keep a bottle of hand sanitiser in your locker just in case you need to clean your hands in a pinch. Keep an extra box of tampons in your purse just in case you, or someone else needs one. Keep a pocket knife in your shoe in case you need to cut something open. Keep your gun on you just in case someone attacks you. Keep your guard up just in case someone tries to stab you in the back. Keep other people out in case you hurt them.

Just in case.

The last one always seemed to do more damage to her than to others, but Hailey could live with that. She had lived a solitary life for so long, pushing away everybody — particularly the men — in her life for so long that whenever she considered letting someone in, alarm bells started ringing and her brain flashed red.

When she didn’t answer right away, the person at the door knocked once more, this time with a bit more force as Hailey snapped out of her trance and cautiously headed to the source of the noise. Standing up on her tip-toes to look through the peephole, the face of her partner staring back at her bought her anxiety down for a moment, before it peaked at an all time high once more. This was the first time since she had realised her feelings for the man that he had been to her house. Her house. Alone.

“Well, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to get hypothermia first?”

A small chuckle escaped Hailey’s lips as she unlocked the deadbolt on the door and opened it up just wide enough for the man to come inside, a dusting of snow from the cold Chicago winter covering his dark hair. As the door closed once again with a distinct click, Hailey took notice of the bag in Jay’s hand and glanced between him and said bag with an eyebrow cocked.

“I bought drinks, but we’ll talk about that later. For right now, I want to know if you seriously were going to see how long you could make me stand out there before my heart stopped and I froze to death. Because if you were, well. . . that’s not very nice.”

Hailey rolled her eyes at Jay playfully. “Yes, I took a while getting to the door because the world just revolves around you. I couldn’t possibly be doing something that didn’t involve waiting for you, Jay Halstead.”

“I knew it,” Jay grinned toothily. “Anyway — I bought us some beers. Figured you wouldn’t mind the company considering Vanessa has vanished into thin air again.”

“She’s with Kevin.”

“She told you that?”

“Oh, hell no. I just know.”

Jay shook his head with a smile. “Of course you do.”

Hailey ran her hands through her hair before resting her hands on her waist comfortably, glancing up at Jay for only a moment before her gaze fell back down to her feet. Deep down, she knew why he had come. She hadn’t hidden the effect this case had had on her as well has she’d hoped, but she still wanted to ask.

“Why. . . Why are you here, Jay?”

Her attempt at making her question sound less harsh than it was failed miserably as his expression changed slightly, the sparkle in his eyes dimming as he stared at her with a hurt expression.

“I was worried about you,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I guess I wanted to check in on you.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

The sparkle dimmed some more. “I know you don’t, Hailey. I never said you did. Sometimes it’s nice to have company when you’re going through something — you’re the one who taught me that, remember?”

Hailey didn’t answer, instead shifting her weight awkwardly as she favoured her other leg and bought her hand up to her opposite arm, rubbing it absentmindedly.

“I’m okay, Jay. You can go home, enjoy your night. We just closed a case, you shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“Are you kidding?” Jay moved closer to Hailey, their shoulder’s nearly touching. “Hailey, I’d listen to you talk about anything any day of the week. I just — I want to know you’re not forcing yourself to deal with this by yourself.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Jay. I don’t know what to say. I’m figuring some stuff out.”

“How about a beer and a friend while you do?”

He was trying so hard. She could see that. Hesitantly, Hailey obliged to the man’s request as she nodded her head lightly, the sparkle re-igniting in his eyes. As Hailey and Jay both went further into the woman’s house, heading into the kitchen, they both took seats beside each other at the kitchen island as Jay pulled out the beer he had bought. It wasn’t overly cold but thankfully wasn’t room temperature either — it was just right for Hailey, who had always run cold already, especially in the winter.

Dropping the bottle cap on the island, the circular object making a metallic sound as it spun for a second or two before settling, Hailey bought the bottle to her lips and took a swing. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her partner struggling to open up his own bottle which provided great amusement to the woman as she simply watched him try and fail. Finally he ended up sliding the bottle over to her with a pout, huffing when Hailey managed to open it on the first try without hassle.

“Show off,” Jay whined as she slid the bottle back over to him.

Hailey smirked at the man. “Grow some muscles then. Or are the ones you have just for show?”

“Don’t insult my muscles!”

Hailey cracked a smile as she and Jay shared in a laugh, each of them taking another swig of their respective beer bottles before Jay cleared his throat to begin to speak.

“Do . . . Do you . . . I mean you don’t have to but. . . do you wanna talk about it?”

Hailey recused back into her shell. “About what, Jay?”

“What’s bothering you. This case. Anything.”

A small yet still shaky sigh escaped her lips as she debated taking the man up on his offer. She wanted to get it out of her system — she needed to — but it was like she was repeatedly hitting some kind of brick wall every single time she tried. Start slow, she thought. Build up to it.

Slowly, she turned her head to face her partner but still refused to meet his gaze which held nothing but concern — though she didn’t know that. Jay just wanted her to be okay. He knew what it was like.

“What do you see when you close your eyes?” Hailey started, biting down on her lip nervously. “Because at the moment, all I can see is those kids dead on the floor. The bruises on that seven year old’s thighs. Blood. God, there. . . there was so much blood, Jay.”

Hailey bought a hand up to her mouth as she fought like hell to keep her tears at bay, Jay taking notice of the whites of her eyes slowly but surely turning red like they always did when she was about to cry. Jay had seen it only a few times before, but nonetheless — it was unmistakeable.

Jay placed a hand on Hailey’s hand, lacing his fingers in with hers as he gave it a quick squeeze for comfort.  “It’ll be okay, Hails. It’s not your fault.”

“I thought once there was somebody who wasn’t me to blame, it would be easier. But it’s not.”

“I know.”

Hailey took another sip of her beer as she turned her head away, the tears that had been collecting having no other place to go but down her cheeks. Once the tears fell it was as if the floodgates opened, a hiccuping sob taking her off guard. As if it were an automatic response, Jay stood up and wrapped his arms around Hailey from behind as she sunk into him.

She couldn’t help but think about how safe she felt with Jay. How perfectly their bodies melted together as if they were made for each other.

As his arm rested across her chest, holding her close to him, he couldn’t help but think about how much he never wanted to stop holding her. Because when she was close to him, he felt full and complete — when she wasn’t, the emptiness stabbed his heart like a knife over and over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” Hailey muttered out between her strained, quiet cries. “I’m sorry, Jay.”

“Hailey, don’t be sorry.” His voice was soft and tender as his chin naturally found its place on her shoulder, the chair she was sitting on giving her a height advantage she wouldn’t normally have. “I’m here as long as you want me to be, alright?”

Hailey nodded lightly in response. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight, she knew she was probably going to regret what she was about to do. In fact, she probably should have called ahead to Platt to have her transfer papers drawn up. But before she could talk herself out of it, Hailey hastily wiped her tears from her face before peeling Jay off of her and turning to the man with an anxious expression.

“Jay,” she began, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it pulsing throughout her entire body. “I need to tell you something.”

His eyebrows formed a V shape as he tilted his head ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

“Please just promise me that you won’t hate me even though you probably have every right to and —“

“Hailey, just tell me. I couldn’t ever hate you.”

She gripped onto the kitchen island beside her, feeling weak as the words spilled out of her.

“I think — I think I love you, Jay. And I know you don’t feel the same, and I know that this probably changes everything between us, but I can’t pretend it’s not there anymore. Not when you’re hugging me the way you were and making me fall more in love with you with every second. You don’t even realise you’re doing it!”

Jay met Hailey’s eyes for a moment before looking away.

“I never got to answer your question about what I see when I close my eyes.”

Hailey grimaced at the man’s statement, her eyes filling with tears and her heart preparing to shatter. He was changing the subject — he didn’t feel the same way. He was avoiding what she had said completely, pretending the words hadn't left her mouth.

“Really, Jay? If you’re going to —“

“Hailey, stop,” Jay placed a hand on her shoulder as she shrugged it off. “Do you want to know what I see when I close my eyes?”

Jay was met with silence as Hailey stared at a fixed spot on the wall.

“It’s you, Hailey. It’s been you since the first time I ever saw you."

hi so this is my first published oc oneshot, i hope you all like it! i write a lot and have since i was little but i get really nervous sharing my writing with people uhhhhhh.... if you do like it and want me to publish some more please let me know because i’d be really happy to post more!!!

READ PART TWO HERE

#one chicago #chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - You're Kidding Me

So we’ve finally come to the last of season two’s filler episodes. Let’s see if we can knock this one out real quick. 

Summary: The front door of the mysterious seashell estate vanishes, trapping the group. They try to find another way out but find a spinning top whose magic regresses Cassandra and Lance into toddlers and Shorty into a baby.  They’ve only have an hour to find the top and reverse the effects or the changes become permanent. Unfortunately neither of Rapunzel’s or Eugene’s parenting methods keep their now childish friends on task. 

So Why Did No One Stand Watch Last Night?

They were all sleeping right next to the entrance, and after the run in with the mirror monsters, you would think that they would have taken turns standing watch. 

But nope, the front door vanishes when no one was looking cause they don't have any foresight. 

A Low Budget Doesn’t Excuse Filler

Like most of season two, this is yet another episode that adds very little to the overall story. It’s slightly better than the Return of Quaid or Curses, but not by much. I put it on the same level as The Forest of No Return, as I do like the mains’ development, but there’s really no reason why such episodes exist to begin with. 

The meta reason for staying in certain places for three episodes, instead of only one or two, is because of budgetary reasons. The crew have to build new sets and models for every new location or person the cast comes across. This costs money to make, so the higher ups wanted to reuse assets. Which is understandable, but not an excuse for utilizing them poorly.  

If you need to stay in one area or have characters reappear, then you need to give story reasons for that. Ones that tie back to the overall narrative and/or the mains’ character arcs. 

The shell house and Matthews should be more important than what they are as they both have connections to the ultimate big bad of the series.Adria shouldn’t be wasted for a whole episode when she’s the only one driving the plot in season two and has limited appearances. Vardaros and its people shouldn’t be a one and done thing if you’re going to spend so much time setting them up. And there’s still one off episodes, locations, and characters who aren’t brought back and add nothing 

Not only does this make for a weaker story, it also undermines the cost saving measures that you tried to implement to begin with.  

This Isn’t Representation! 

Get it?! 

She’s a top! 

She’s totally gay, but like not really, cause this can also be interpreted as a dominatrix joke, and there’s no other real indication of her orientation outside her like smiling at her best friend/crush/sister sometimes and keeping that rose her creepy ex-boyfriend gave her. 

And don't give me any bullshit excuses about Disney not letting the crew make Cassandra canonly gay/bi. 

The Owl House aired just this year, the same year as Tangled’s final season. Also Globby and Carl from Big Hero Six were both confirmed to be a couple on screen a month after this episode came out. Both shows would have been in development at the same time as Tangled was. Both would have been subject to the same regulations and restrictions while writing their stories. 

It isn’t “Disney” that stopped the storyboard artists from having Cass be a confirmed lesbian, it’s Chris and Ben, the head writers themselves, who failed to write it into the story properly, if at all. 

Chris is the one who made Raps and Cass “sisters”. Chris is the one who wouldn’t tell the crew about his ‘twists’. Chris is the one who had Cass crush on Andrew, even after he tried to kill her. Chris is the one who made Cassandra ‘straight’ and has since used gay baiting to keep her fanbase in his pocket. 

Like I am really damn sick and tired of Casspunzel stans defending Chris on twitter, when he’s the very one who sunk thier ship to begin with. I’m also really fed up with certain fans trying to bully others for not accepting their “Cass is a lesbian” headcanons as fact because what the storyboarders say on twitter after the show is over with isn’t gospel and isn’t real rep. 

I don’t care if you ship Cass with Raps or headcanon her as being gay. Ships and headcanons are great and can be a lot of fun. But fuck you if you ever try to shame people for not sharing your ships/headcanons. Not only is it biophobic and acephobic to insist that there’s only ever a binary option when it comes to orientation and shipping, but it also reinforces harmful stereotypes and tropes about people in the queer community. 

Like, yes, I personally may be an introverted angry bitch who’s an LBGTQA member and activist, but that doesn’t mean that every introverted bitchy woman in media is a lesbian. What kind of message does that send people when that’s the only character archetype that’s given representation or is loudly proclaimed as ‘gay’ by the wider audience? Fuck that noise! 

I Know Humor is Subjective but...WHY?

Why did we give the baby a beard? How does that logically work? Did anyone outside of the crew actually find this funny? 

TTS has like this one out of touch dude throwing out jokes that don’t really land with the target audience. Fans have called it ‘boomer humor’ but it’s actually ‘Gen-X’ humor. Not only because Chris and Ben are Gen Xers but because this is the type of crap my older brother would find hilarious. 

Gen Xers are between Boomers and Millennials and so their humor is this weird blend of gross out shock humor, ironic nihilism, and out of date stereotypes that are only mildly better than those of the previous generation before them. They’re the generation who gave us Beavis and Butthead, South Park, and Clerks. 

That’s not a criticism of Gen X as a generation, but rather just an acknowledgment that they’re worlds away from the neo-dada absurdism, more socially conscious, and globalized humor of Gen Z.    

So Why Is the Bad Guy Telling the Heroes How to Foil His Plans? 

Like he not only tells them how to fix their problem and how long they got in order to do so, but he also informs them how it happened in the first place. This goes directly against his plans. Had he simply said nothing and stayed out sight, then Raps and Eugene would have been lost for the full hour and most likely not have saved everyone on time. 

I like to headcanon that Mathews is just “that asshole” that loves to taunt and tease but in a that manner that gives him plausible deniability. He also may just be bored, since he’s a ghost trapped in one place all the time. Yet that still doesn’t change the fact that he shot himself in the foot here. 

Raps and Young Cass’s Relationship Is the Same as Raps and Adult Cass’s, and That Is a Problem. 

Condescending, manipulative, hypocritical, and bossy is the way Rapunzel treats everyone. She doesn’t understand the actual difference between a child and an adult. She only understands who she who she can and can’t boss  around. And those people that she can’t place under her thumb are labeled antagonists by the show. 

Nor does she actually care about what either kid Lance or kid Cass has to say. She’s just being proformative, and young Cass can see through that BS, which why her methods do not work. It’s not because she’s not ‘strict’ enough; it’s because she’s not being honest. 

Meanwhile Child Cassandra is just as combative, rude, bullying, and entitled as Adult Cassandra. In season three she regresses even further and becomes more violent than before.

Unlike Rapunzel, Cassandra wasn’t trapped in a tower for 18 years with zero human contact outside of her abuser. She escaped that fate and was raised in a loving home. That doesn’t mean that there won't be scars, but I still expect her to be more mature than her seven year old self. Just because she’s whining about not being special enough at 24 instead of screaming about the floor being lava doesn’t mean that she’s still not throwing a temper tantrum.  

Like I should not be seeing a replay/foreshadowing of their main conflict here. They aren’t children. They’re dynamic isn’t that of a mother and child. It’s not even a big sister looking out for a little sister type relationship. Its two immature women dragging innocent victims into their bitchy cat fight for dominance over the other.  

If you want me to take their issues seriously then give them real stakes to disagree over, mature behavior that I can root for, and a resolvement that doesn’t reverse any potential development that they could have had.    

Matthews Plan Makes Zero Sense

For starters, half the group being kids isn’t enough of a reason for Rapunzel to stay at the shell house. Even if the effects of the time top became permanent, then Raps and Eugene could just leave and take the kids with them. Either to finish the road trip, or go straight back to Corona. Not that there’s any real reason to get the Dark Kingdom anyways, nor is there a ticking clock stopping Raps from trying again later if she chose to. 

Rapunzel also is not obligated to become anyone’s mother. If she took them back to Corona than Cap would undoubtedly raise Cassandra all over again, and Lance and Shorty could be adopted by someone else. Any of the pub thugs might take them or even perhaps the King and Queen since they missed out on raising their actual daughter. Though for my money I’d get Monty or Xavier to take them in. They seem the most mature and both are shown to be good with kids. 

Then again Rapunzel has been shown twice now to not give a damn about abandoning orphans, so even the ‘dump them at an orphanage’ or ‘leave them alone in the woods to fend for themselves’ isn’t entirely off the table either. I wish I was joking, but I’m not. Sadly, only Eugene’s love for Lance might be the one thing to stop her from doing just so, and even that’s iffy. 

As for the missing door from earlier, if that was all that was stopping them from leaving then the time top shenanigans were fully unnecessary altogether. 

I Actually Like Eugene and Rapunzel’s Conflict Here; I Just Wish It Was In a Better Episode. 

Each of their viewpoints stem from their upbringing. 

Rapunzel is unique in that she was simultaneously emotionally abused and neglected while being physically spoiled. Especially once she found out that she was princess, where she was then handed nearly anything and everything she wanted. She doesn’t recognize that getting your every possible whim come true can be damaging. Nor does she have any comprehension of what living in poverty is like and how this many toys is wasteful to someone like Eugene who had so very little and stole to survive. 

She does however associate limits, boundaries, and orders with abusive behavior because she’s been denied autonomy and respect her whole life. She’s never seen what healthy parenting looks like and how rules can be applied correctly.     

To Rapunzel no orders is ‘freeing’ and ‘validation’ is all that is needed to get a child to listen to you. Which doesn’t work for her because she doesn’t understand that real communication is more than just giving a compliment now and then. 

Meanwhile Eugene lacked any sort of anchor at all. He was left to his own devices at a young age and had no one to rely on for emotional needs and, after leaving the orphanage, no one to provide physical needs either. 

It’s telling that he and Lance latched onto Quaid as the only authority figure in their life, despite Quaid never out right adopting them. He was the only sense of stability that they had who they could trust wouldn’t hurt them, despite being strict with them. 

And now that Eugene has gotten older and is reformed, he can probably understand why Quaid was so harsh on him and Lance. Quaid probably did more to try and help them turn from a life crime than even Rapunzel did. Like meeting Rapunzel was the inciting incident that inspired Eugene to make that leap, but the groundwork was already laid out for him to do so elsewhere. Things like his good communication skills, respect and empathy of others, and understanding of boundaries had to be learned from somewhere, and if not from the Sheriff of Vardaros than who? 

What I’m getting at is that, while Rapunzel rejects her parents methods but then fails to break her learned habits from them anyways, Eugene is the reverse. He’s come to embrace his mentor’s teachings, but he fails to implement them correctly because he’s not Quaid. Being authoritative isn’t his strong suit. It goes against his usual nature as the easy going person that he is and so any attempts to come across as forceful fail as they’re hollow. 

Kids know authenticity and genuineness when they see it. The children reject Rapunzel because she’s not being real with them, yet they also reject Eugene cause he’s not being honest with himself. 

It’s a complex and mature conflict. Neither person is fully right nor wrong, and only by learning from each other and adopting both methods can they achieve their goal. 

TTS can be deep when it wants to be. There’s a good foundation here for mature themes and complex characterization. It’s just the series doesn’t ever commit to it. 

Whatever personal drama going on here about two young adults trying to cope with their past traumas and how that affects their current life and future goals is completely lost in the magical goofy antics and low stakes situation. Even the stuff about Eugene and his relationship with Quaid is reduced to nothing but a one off joke rather than being genuinely explored as a point of development.  

Imagine how much more powerful things would have been if Angry and Red were brought along on the trip. If this argument was over them and whether or not they should adopt the two girls themselves or consider other options. That would be something with real weight. Something with a choice that had actual consequences attached to it. Something that would permanently affect all involved parties. Something that wouldn’t make the two leads look like outright dicks for abandoning two children for a second damn time in a row.    

You Have 70 Feet of Magical, Indestructible Hair! Why Are You Afraid of a Bunch of Dogs!?

You’ve fought off giant monsters, killer robots, and supernatural beings with magical powers. What do you mean you can’t hold off a pack of guard dogs while busting down a stuck door? Why is Eugene the shield for everyone and not the actual unbreakable hair that you use as a shield all the damn time? And Why did we have to rely on Shorty again to be the deus ex machina of the episode? 

At this point the writers should have just made him Demantius instead of the monkey.   

What Happened To This New Dream? Where Did It Go In Season Three?

Most fans who do enjoy season two happen to be big New Dream fans as this is by far and away the best season for them. I’ll admit that the series, up to this point, had me actively liking them together, despite being originally lukewarm to the pairing in the movie. 

Their conflicts were for the the most part mature and real. They learned from one another equally and had open communication when it didn't involve ‘marriage is a trap’ BS. Things, like compromising on differentiating future goals, honesty and communication, and making time for one another and extending effort into a relationship while being true to yourself are all relatable issues. 

Even today's episode featured the topic of having kids and parenting. Which is a discussion you absolutely need to have with your prospective spouse before entering into any long term commitments and signing any legal contracts. For real, I’ve seen marriages fall apart because they didn’t agree on whether or not they wanted children. 

I don’t know what went down between writing season two and season three, but things quickly took a sharp turn away from this dynamic and nosedived into a pit of uncomfortable bullying and gross sexist implications here after. 

Matthews Plan Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan 

Yeah so Matthews is one of Zhan Tiri’s disciples, but he apparently doesn’t know of her goals/plans, cause she needs Rapunzel and company to reach the moonstone, not stay stuck here. 

The meta reason for this that the Zhan Tiri’s story was altered at the last minute and the writers failed to make sure there was any sort of consistency between what they already set up and where they actually wound to actually taking the plot.  

The in universe reason is that Zhan Tiri is an impotent moron, but that’s not what the writers were going for so it’s a fail. 

Conclusion  

I like the New Dream stuff, and Matthews is at least entertaining despite being incompetent. Everything else about the episode is ‘meh’ tho. 

#tangled #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-cassandra #eugene

[groovyzombiellama]

Ex Hunter

Title: Ex Hunter

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are an ex hunter and Sam Winchester’s ex girlfriend, because you broke up after you got pregnant with his twin girls, but years later, you’ve moved on and are now living with, and dating Klaus Mikaelson.

Word count: 1301

---***---

“Mommy, can we get some ice cream?“ One of your daughters asked you as she handed you her empty plate after breakfast and looked at you with her big eyes, that reminded you so much of her father. The other one had left the kitchen to get her phone and started playing the exact music her uncle likes. It sometimes weirded you out how similar the two of them were to Sam and Dean, as they danced around the kitchen, to convince you to give them ice cream after breakfast. You smiled down at them, still unable to process how fast they were growing up, and you agreed to give them the ice cream, laughing at their excitement as they were jumping all over the kitchen. You handed them a little bit, because their father was going to be picking them up soon, so they could spend the next two weeks with him, and knowing Sam and Dean, they will probably buy the girls whatever they want, and you didn’t want them to get stomach aches. The two of them sat down in front of the TV, their bags by the couch, ready to run off as soon as they hear their uncle honk the Impala.

You made sure to pack with them that morning, making sure they don’t take only toys, after all, they are only five years old, and were known to forget packing their clothes. As you were washing the dishes, you felt two arms wrap around your waist and a soft kiss placed on your shoulder. It was soon followed by a British accent. “Good morning, love.“ You giggled as you felt Klaus’ warm breath tickle your ear. He was out on a meeting with Marcel and had just come back, greeting the girls in the living room before approaching you. You turn to face him slightly, getting lost in his eyes for a moment, before replying back and giving him a small peck on his lips. Some of you might get confused as to what is really going on here. You see, your life was a tad complicated. Or should we say you made it somewhat complicated yourself. Escaping a dangerous life to save your two girls only to end up in a situation maybe even more dangerous. Maybe it was the fact that you were more grown up now and have learned how to take care of yourself over the years.

But sometimes you wonder how it all would have turned out if you stayed with the father of your girls. Were you now a hypocrite for deciding to end things with him and limit the time he spends with his daughters to two weeks a month, while you ended up dating an actual thousand year old vampire? You had no idea, and that question was still bothering you. Many mothers don’t even let the father see their children as much as you let Sam, and it makes you wonder if the girls are tired of moving back and forth every two weeks, but they haven’t complained to you when you asked them about it. In reality, you are glad that they love their father, because he did nothing bad to you or them. It was you who ended things. Sam and you met during a hunt, as you used to be a hunter yourself, and you two corssed paths, working together to help a common goal, becoming closer in the process and ending up being friends. Soon after, the two of you started falling in love with each other, but of course, didn’t really know how to tell the other person.

And Sam ended up giving you a huge bouquet of roses one day, with a note that asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend. The amount of happiness you felt that day couldn’t be measured with anything. The two of you dated for about five years, having fights here and there, but over all, having a healthy relationship. Well, as healthy as your jobs could provide. There were a few near death and even death experiences for the both of you, but in the end you’d always find a way back to each other. That was until you found out that you were pregnant. Looking back at the five years you’ve spent hunting with the Winchesters and all that you had to endure together, it made you worry for the safety of your children. When Sam found out, he was so happy and so were you, especially when you found out you were having twin girls. But he noticed you were a bit different, and more thoughtful. He could kinda predict what was going through your head adn was ready to support your decision in case you wanted to move out of town.

And you ended up doing so, trying your best to pu your old life behind, both as a hunter and as Sam’s girlfriend. You loved Sam, truly, and you still do, in some way, but you mindset at the time was telling you that was the right choice. You two still stayed friends, even though you could sense he was a bit sad by the fact that you were now dating someone else, and he was more than ready to take care of his girls, and was truly a great father. The girls adore him and he adores them. You love Klaus, truly, he has been amazing to you and your daughters and has defended all three of you from danger, even when you could handle it yourself, being an ex hunter and all. Sometimes it was ironic, that you were now dating someone who you would be hunting if you had stayed a hunter. You served Klaus his breakfast, since you knew he didn’t eat before leaving the house, and you were about to give him a peck on the lips, when you heard the honk, knowing all too well it belonged to the Impala. There was no sound like it, and it felt like your ears have been tuned to recognize the very Impala Dean was driving by it’s sound.

As you are about to pull away from Klaus, in order to see off the girls, he grabs the back of your neck gently and pulls you in for that kiss he was supposed to get, causing you to giggle and playfully hit his shoulder. He smiled and looked down at his plate, begining to eat, as you made your way outside with the girls, who ran to hug their father. There it was again, that look on Sam’s face. His eyes were slightly saddened, and you could tell he missed you as he looked up at you from the place he crouched to hug the girls once they moved over to hug their uncle. He was happy for you, sure, but couldn’t help but wonder from time to time what it would be like to have a real family, with you and your girls. You give him a soft smile, which he returns, and like always, tell him to look after the girls, to which he nods. “Hey Dean, whatever you have planned, don’t get my kids in trouble, they are too young. And have fun girls, I’ll see you soon.“ You said as the two rushed to hug you again, as Dean laughed, and then entered the Impala, ready to go spend time with dad and uncle. You took one more look at Sam, who was staring at you, before he noticed Klaus at the door, looking at the scene, and so he looked down, before walking over to the car too, and soon they were driving away, as you waved until you couldn’t see them anymore, before heading into the house with Klaus.

---***---

I put the gifs together that I found on google and I really like how they turned out. I didn’t know how to title the fic, so it’s a pretty lame title this time, but I can do better, I swear haha :D

@cokecola4211​ I believe this is one of your requests, I hope you like it :) The next ones are coming soon ;) <3

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagines #the vampire diaries x supernatural #the vampire diaries x supernatural imagine #Sam Winchester #Sam Supernatural #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x reader #Stefan Salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore x reader #kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #enzo imagine

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey can I get some headcanons of your relationship with your F/O parents bc y’all are such a cute family dynamic and I wanna hear more about how you all interact🥰💗

and @arianatheangelworld 

asdfghjkl; omgggg~ you’re all gonna kill me asghj 🥺😭😭thank you darlings omggg ~ 🥰🥰🥰💗 I hope that you all enjoy this, it’s always so bittersweet but also so comforting and fun to explore my dynamic with my parental F/Os and, well... isn’t that the point of it all?💖 Thank you thank you thank you for supporting and enabling me omggg ~ 💙😊

Word count: 3, 184 (holy shit I am so sorry... not😂)

It’s a quiet life, but there’s lots of underlying tensions beneath it all.

By quiet, I mean because I spend my days in my bedroom studying (not so far from reality, these relationships😂) but there are underlying tensions because no one in the household knows who Edward Hyde really is - it’s a secret between my parents and I. 

What that means is that it’s tricky for Papa and myself to spend time with one another if other members of the household are awake - as far as they are concerned, Father is my parent and so is Mama, and Papa has no part in that. So as you can imagine, questions would be raised if Papa and I are caught spending too much time together (plus, this is set in the Victorian Era, so you can imagine the scandal of an unmarried twenty-three year old woman spending lots of time alone in a room, unchaperoned, with a man old enough to be her father...)

This is why Papa and I only have our time together late into the night, when said members of the household have gone to bed and it’s only my parents and I who are awake. It’s safer for all of us that way - it protects Father and his name, his reputation and his career, which in turn protects the household members from being turned out onto the streets due to a lack of employment and this in turn protects Father’s family, who always come first.

From the moment I wake up, my parents are there. As you’ve probably gathered from previous posts, I sleep with my parents a lot so it isn’t unusual for me to wake up with one of them. Rare and special occasions mean that I get to wake up with Mama and either Father or Papa. 

Mama’s always up by five in the morning or she’ll fall behind on her chores so if she’s the one I slept with in the night, then I’ll get up when she does. She always insists that I go back to bed and that I go to sleep, but I rarely do. I much prefer to have those early hours with her so that I can help her with her chores and maybe, if I’m very lucky... I’ll get to be the one who takes Father his breakfast tray so that I get to see him early in the morning and so that I can crawl into his bed and get me some extra cuddles before I start my day.

If I sleep in with Father, then the opposite happens and I’m woken up when he gets brought his breakfast tray (7 AM on the dot!), and of course I end up getting up when he does because even though he won’t kick me out of his bed, he also knows that if he leaves me to my own devices in a soft, warm bed, I’ll end up falling asleep until noon and then I’ll beat myself up about it, so he makes sure I am awake and up before he’s done with his breakfast (and if Mama knows I slept in with Father, she’ll bring me some breakfast too!) to save me any emotional distress. 

Father always wakes me up gently... up until a certain point. He will shake me gently while saying my name, which usually gets a sleepy groan from me. Then, it’s onto talking, with his voice going from a whisper and increasing in volume until he’s just above his normal speaking level. He never raises his voice at me and we all know why. If that doesn’t work, then Father will just “accidentally” pull the covers off of me. He isn’t subtle, but he also isn’t mean about it, and if I do genuinely need some more sleep, then he will let me have that. But for the most part, he makes sure that I’m up once he is on the nights I’m in his bed.

I never ever get to wake up with Papa. It just doesn’t happen for various reasons. Firstly, because Papa’s constantly moving around like a lion stuck in a cage and he loves me dearly but not enough to stay in one place for more than a few hours unless he’s already sleeping. Secondly, because he can’t be caught in my bed or vice versa by anyone other than Mama to protect Father’s name etc. Thirdly, I may wake up to Papa crawling into my bed or easing himself in his own if I fell asleep in his bed, but I don’t ever get to start my day with Papa. Our time is night time and that has to be non-negotiable. It does upset me if I wake up in an especially needy mood, but Father and Mama will get me through the day in the meantime.

Mama likes to sneak me items of Papa’s or Father’s clothing to wear when I go to bed. She’s not supposed to but Mama is sleight of hand and I can be quick when I need to be. She and I often have silent conversations in a crowded room and all it takes is for Mama to “accidentally” make a noise, like a quick scuffing of her boot on the floor or for her knuckles to make a noise against the wooden table and I just look at her.  Mama catches my eye and then gives me A Look before she turns back to her ironing. I walk past and at the point where our lower bodies are hidden by the ironing board, she stuffs an unironed shirt in my hand (usually Papa’s) and I walk off, the shirt stowed away under my arm and then placed for safe-keeps under my pillow for the night time. Sometimes it might be one of her night-dresses, but I am comfier in either Papa or Father’s clothes.

There are so many secrets between myself and my parents which are kept from the other members of the household. Between all three of us, we manage it as best as we can, though I have no doubt that the others think we're a little odd. 😊

There are periods which are weeks long where Father is so busy in his laboratory that no one sees him. It's communication .via. letters on the stairs and that's all anyone hears from him. Mama and I worry immensely but Father's always been this way and all we can do is be patient and wait for him. He's a workaholic and he often makes himself sick from all of the working and everyone in the household knows what to do when these times arise, which are getting more frequent as Father gets older.

In especially bad times, even Mama won't be able to get through to Father. I get upset if that's the case, because if he shuts away the one person he loves above all else, it's a serious warning sign. Mama and I have a pact that if she can't get through, then I will. Father is always so protective of me, and now it's my turn to protect him. I take this very seriously, understandably so, and I wait up until two or three in the morning, so late that even Mama's gone to bed and is sleeping. I wait in his study for that time, reading one of his old medical journals, and then I go downstairs, out the back door, and into the laboratory.

It's freezing in there because there's where Father used to carry out dissections and lectures back before his illness (never canonically diagnosed but it's believed to be depression or similar) got worse, so I always take him his old smoking jacket (which doubles as my blanket when I take naps in his study). By this time in the night, Father will be so tired and sleep-deprived that he's more likely to be honest with me, and it's for this reason that I also stayed up so late - Father will assume I'm unable to sleep because I'm so worried about him, and while that's true, it's also because I know him well enough to know what time of night is best for an intervention. Yes, it's slightly manipulative on my end of things, but I am my Papa's daughter and it's with good intentions so I don't linger on this thought for too long. It won't do me any good and my Father's most important. I'd do anything for him.

I find Father where I knew he would be - scribbling in a journal by candlelight, his fingers covered in ink, his hair a mess, yawning every few seconds. A cold plate of mutton is left forgotten by his elbow, only half eaten. I'm just like him when I study so I don't lecture my Father on his bad eating habits -he and I have the same work ethic so I would be a hypocrite to tell him off for something he usually tells me off for. I announce myself by putting his smoking jacket over his shoulders. Father pulls the jacket around himself with a shiver and I smile. You're welcome.

"You should be in bed, Erika." Father frowns in disapproval and I almost want to call him out on his hypocrisy.

"So should you," My tone is sharp with worry and frustration and Father takes a moment to look at me - I never speak to him like this. "Mama's really worried about you. So am I. We haven't seen Papa for weeks, and we - " Just like always, my anger turns to upset and I move away, trying not to cry.

"Erika." I turn back to my Father and I see that he has tears in his eyes, too. He's hurting and even though he's been trying to find a cure for years, he's never been able to find one which really helps him. "I am sorry, I - my work, it is. Well, let's not discuss the details." A pause. Neither of us know what to do, even when there is no one to see or hear us. "Come here." He pats his lap and I make a happy noise, which makes him smile. I love sitting on my Father's lap - it's been something I've done ever since I was a child and it always makes me feel so safe.

I go and I sit on my Father's lap (and have a quiet cry - he knows but he doesn't say anything about it because he doesn't want to embarrass me) and he continues to work, but as the hours drag on and we both get increasingly tired, Father knows that the time for working is over. On these nights when I manage to find my Father in his own mind and pull him back with just my presence (and my very existence is a reminder of what he holds most dear), I also spend the night in his bed.

"Thank you, Erika, for..." Father trails off, but I know what he's saying to me.

I snuggle into his bed, feel my Father kiss my forehead and whisper his love, and then I sleep.

The night is half the battle - getting Father to take a break tomorrow morning will be an even bigger battle, but by then Mama will be awake and we'll work together to save Father from himself.

It's not the first or the last time, but all of us in the family have our Own Moments which require special attentions and solutions, and we love each other even harder during those times.

The reunion with Papa after getting Father to take a break from his weeks of working always makes me cry, too.

Over the years, it's become almost a... tradition, of sorts, for Papa to greet me this way after a long separation.

I could be doing anything - reading in Father's study, writing in my bed, studying at my desk - and all of a sudden, out of nowhere -

"Erika."

Whispered so casually, so quietly, but my entire body freezes. I know that voice anywhere. I drop whatever I'm doing, I tear up, and I turn, slowly...

Papa's smirking at me, a cold and calculative look in his eyes, but I'm not afraid. I'm not even nervous. Anyone else would make me step back with this look, but not Papa. No.

"Oh, my - Papa!" I step forward into his embrace and I melt into the parent I've been missing most of all. I cry, of course I do, and Papa says nothing about it (he and Father aren't so different at all, once you get to know them, though I'd never tell them that. Or Mama. It's a thought I keep entirely to myself.) because he doesn't see why he should need to; he only holds me tighter.

I can almost hear his fond eye roll and it makes me smile.

"It's difficult to understand someone who is entirely incapable of asking for what he most wants, wouldn't you agree? You're the only one he listens to," our daughter.

There is pride in Papa's voice but just like always, I can hear what he doesn't say, just as he hears what I don't say. It's just how it is between us; Papa and I have a level of understanding between us which we don't have with anyone else.

That night, Papa sleeps in my bed with me. I'm never ready to say goodbye to him, or goodnight, either. The following conversation is a nightly ritual because of this:

"Just five more minutes, Papa?"

"I'll be here tomorrow night. you know that. Sleep, child."

"But - "

"Erika."

A warning. No one else receives warnings from the Edward Hyde and lives to tell the tale. So I listen.

"Fine." I know he will be with me tomorrow night. "Stay with me 'til I fall asleep?"

Papa sighs, rolls his eyes, and pointedly lays down, watching me the whole time. I couldn't hide my smile if I tried, so I don't even bother to - Papa taught me to show my emotions and to not hide them.

"Goodnight, Erika."

"'Night, Papa. Love you."

A kiss on the top of my head, and all else fades to black.

My parents and I are very physically affectionate with one another and it's... unusual, especially if you consider the fact that it's in the Victorian Era, but the members of the household find it touching. They get hugs and affection, too! Even if they don't necessarily know how to react to it, they still do get their hugs in the morning and late at night just before they all go to bed (which is between 10 and 11, whereas I go to bed anywhere from midnight to 3 AM).

If I have a nightmare or a bad dream, I am at total liberty to climb into any bed in the house, but of course I make a beeline typically for Mama's bed. She knows nightmares well and she'll simply hold me until I feel safe, and then she'll hold me some more because I get clingy and I don't like letting go. There's been times I've cried because she let me go before I was ready for the cuddle to be over (though those times were when I was much younger) so now she just lets me decide for myself when I've had enough.

With the way I sleep with my hair in two braids, I always get a mass of tangles at the back of my head. Always. I hate it and it always makes me hesitant to brush my hair, which is now midway down my back (so I can’t not brush my hair every day), because I know it’s gonna hurt me. I’ll brush the front parts of my hair and I’ll try to brush the knots out, but it hurts so I stop and I don’t want to brush my hair. 

A part of me is always tempted to just leave it, but at the same time I know from previous experience that hair knots can and will get worse, so during these times I’ll take my brush to Mama. She’s always so gentle, not just with me, but also just in her nature. 

She is such a tender-hearted person and I admire her so deeply for that. She’s incredibly busy so typically I’ll leave brushing my hair until the evening, when she has more time to help me. I don’t always ask her for help with my hair, so when I do, she knows immediately that it’s because I really can’t do it myself.

“Mama, there’s a - I have a knot. Can you help me?”

A small smile and she goes to get her wooden comb. It’s gentler on knots than my own hairbrush, which pulls more than it needs to, and we both know it. Mama is so gentle that it barely hurts me, and within minutes she’s done what I’ve delayed all day.

“How do you want it tonight, Erika? One braid or two?”

I fondly roll my eyes - like she needs to ask. My smile is in my voice as I ask for two, and Mama and I get to spend some time with one another quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes I return the favour by helping her brush out her hair, but she’s incredibly self-sufficient and she largely prefers to do it herself. Which is fine... I’ll find other ways to help her!😊

“Thank you, Mama.” My words are doubled up with a tight hug, and then I’m ushered off to bed because it’s late and she’s exhausted.

I technically have three parents and each one fulfills a different need for me, so all together, they meet all of my needs and I try, I try to be a daughter that they can be proud of, that they can respect and that they can love unconditionally. I try so hard every day to live in a way to honour their places in my life.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for my parents. I would die for my parents, to give them a happy ending, to give them the time to be together, but in many ways... I am that happy ending, even if things aren't perfect. It's a fight sometimes to keep secrets exactly that, but we make it work. We have to.

I tell them each and every day that I love them, I hug them and cuddle them and help them out where I can, because they deserve the world.

They are my parents and I am very grateful to and for them. They have made me who I am today and they'll be with me forever, no matter where I go or what I do or who I become. I just hope that they'll continue to walk with me for the rest of my life, because I wouldn't be alive without them... in more ways than one.

#loveletterstoledger #self-shipping #mary reilly #parental f/os #I'M CRYING OMG😭 #this is OKAY TO REBLOG

[missmillyashford]

Eight Hundred Eyes Are Better Than One - Reaction

I should have done this a long time ago but I just reread this chapter and reacted to it as I went if you’re interested @anbu-legacy

Because I’ve had a grudge against canon Jiraiya for so long it’s been an interesting but slow process of adjusting to this (better) version of him where his awful traits either don’t exist or are slightly more subdued, and traits I could actually appreciate are more emphasized. And saying that, I love this image of this giant, flamboyant man being so unsubtle about his summons that he just wakes up not just Kakashi but his entire FLOOR. Nice one. This man is a spy theoretically and I love that juxtaposition. At least it makes it easy to let Ryouma know they’re leaving.

“Dodomeki?” he said quietly. 

Boyfriends, Kakashi reflected, were supposed to be reassuring. “I’ll bring you an eyeball,” he promised. 

“Gross.” 

This reminds me of that time Kakashi found a weird creepy bug in that one cave during the kiri mission and instead of leaving it be like a normal person he decides to pick it up and bring it all the way back to the team to scare Ryouma with it. I always find it super funny when Kakashi pulls stuff like this, terrorizing his poor teammates with gross unwanted show and tell. I personally would love a gift like that, though. I am totally someone who would probably keep particularly interesting animal body parts preserved in a jar somewhere in my house because I find anatomy and physiology interesting. I once had the opportunity in one of my university classes to hold a horse’s brain and was quite enthralled. I just wanted a good look at it and was really curious what it would feel like.

“Just bring yourself home safe.” 

“Always do,” Kakashi said, which was mostly true. “Captain, too.” 

I’m reacting to this on a reread so hahaaaaaaa. Nice one, Kakashi. Your poor hands.

I would say I can’t believe that Kakashi actually WENT INTO THE ROOM to wake up Raidou and Genma, but this is Kakashi, so I can. He could have just knocked on the bedroom window, or just gone to the door, like a person with basic social skills and a modicum of decency. Kids these days. No respect for the general concept of privacy. Sheesh. Boundaries. I’m glad I’m not them. I will admit that I laughed though.

Raidou jerked, sat up wildly, and blurted, “What the hell?” 

“Taichou,” Kakashi said, with a little wave. 

Genma exhaled, tweaked the sheet so that it covered Kurenai more fully, then sat up — a much smoother operation. “Hatake,” he said tightly, visibly trying for calm. 

“Lieutenant,” Kakashi said. And, for good measure: “Yuuhi. Well done.” 

Asdfghgfds. This bastard. I love and hate him. DK is always so good at this sort of humour with Kakashi and it never fails to get me.

I feel bad for Genma and Raidou and Kurenai right now though because they didn’t even get to TALK properly the next day after getting together before Raidou had to leave.

Kakashi felt his spine stiffen. Reflexive, pointless defense of his parents, who had raised him on legends and myths, told in the few quiet moments between everything else. 

I really love the callback to Don’t Fear the Dark. It’s really interesting when we get little glimpses at what Sakumo was like, and what his family was like before it fell apart. The defensiveness about it has my heart hurting, because it’s one of the few tiny pieces he still has of his father. Speaking of Sakumo, mythology/legends, and Don’t Fear the Dark, I remember that there were traditional masks of demons and things in their home. For a very long time I’ve been very curious to see what the Hatake estate looks like, and what other personal items from Sakumo and their life before are still there. Here’s to hoping we’ll get to see it one day?

I like how these legends have been woven into the worldbuilding too.

Usagi thumped him on the shoulder. “Better dodge, then. We’ll bring some of her scrapings back in a jar for the lab.”

Genma would probably appreciate some jar-scrapings, though. 

Genma’s my type of person. I appreciate him.

I’m really enjoying getting to know a little more about the relationship dynamics of the members of team thirteen. Ginta and Usagi’s relationship is so fun.

I love Goya purely on the basis that she’s a badass archer lady with wicked aim and I feel like that’s understandable and valid.

While Raidou and Usagi bartered for shelter, and Jiraiya signed autographs for the goat herder’s starstruck daughter, Kakashi watched a handful of goat kids bounce back and forth over a fence with blithe disregard for its actual purpose.

The goats hopping over the fence makes such a great image. I adore Tarama the goat village, purely because of the goats. And the Katsuko callback.

I am weak to the characters being dumb reckless idiots experimenting with jutsu for science so I was LIVING for the thunderstorm Ginta-Kakashi shenanigans. I’ve also always loved thunderstorms so I might be extra weak to lightning users. Just casually detonating each other’s jutsu and hoping they don’t explode each other irreparably in the process. Good fun.

Actually getting so see Kakashi split lightning was so cool. We keep hearing about it in canon and legacy so to finally see it is so satisfying. I like the description of sharingan vision as “he tracked the bolt zig-zagging down as if it were made of syrup, oozing through superheated air, long, lethal fingers branching out towards them.” And I also particularly liked this line:

The lightning snapped towards him like a massive, elemental predator scenting blood. 

I am very amused:

In the dizzying aftermath, Kakashi had just enough time to think ow and awesome before the next strike threatened, and they both ran like hell for the village. 

Usagi’s childish glee is so great. And yeah, I feel both her reaction AND Raidou’s are pretty appropriate. But still, lol:

“When did you turn three hundred? Your rookie just did the coolest thing ever. Stop being miserable about it.” 

“You want him?” Raidou said. 

“Yes,” said Usagi instantly. “Hatake, you’re mine, get over here.” 

“Wait, no,” Raidou said. 

I’m glad Kakashi is being appreciated.

The conversation Raidou and Kakashi had about KureGenRai hook up was veeeeery interesting. I wasn’t expecting Kakashi to react so harshly. I guess it is hypocritical of Raidou to say what he said then do that, though Raidou has a point that it’s to protect rookies from senior officers. Lieutenants and Captains are different since they’re closer in rank. I’m guessing that Kakashi is kind of frustrated with how he and Ryouma have felt like they’ve had to keep their relationship secret for fear of getting in trouble, even if same rank liaisons are technically not against the rules, unwritten or otherwise. Because of Raidou’s whole boundaries thing and general testiness about that kind of thing?

I’m curious to see how keeping it a secret from Ryouma will go. How long will they even want to keep it from him, and if they do want to keep the secret how will Ryouma feel about both the relationship and Kakashi’s secret keeping once he finds out?

Another thing I’ll be curious to see is if this at all changes if Kakashi wants to keep his relationship with Ryouma secret still, and if so from who. I’d doubt it would since there are other factors but still. I am looking forward for when people find out, but at the same time I’ve been enjoying it being private. I think a temporary shared secret like this can feel kinda intimate so long as it doesn’t overstay its welcome. And we get scenes like Kakashi panicking and hiding in Ryouma’s bathroom while Ryouma clumsily lies and implies he may have hooked up with an Uchiha to evade arrest so that’s a bonus. I think being able to have their own relationship exist in isolation from judgements and comments from the outside allows them to take some pressure off their relationship, and gives them time to figure each other out and how to just be together unhindered. I can see why they’re doing this the way they are.

A mass grave. Whoever had dug it — Kusa ninja, most likely — had missed the small body on the hill. 

“Poor bastards,” Usagi said quietly. 

Kasumi, of all people, went back for the body. 

I like this detail about Kasumi.

“Now we track,” Jiraiya said. He gave a little wave in Kakashi’s direction. “Do the nose thing.” 

Some days, Kakashi didn’t feel entirely respected in his workplace. 

Loooool

It took two more days to even get close to the Dodomeki. For Kakashi, it was like living in dual headspaces — the clean, sleek arrowhead mind of a predator, and the disordered tangle of everything human. Team Thirteen, with their… themness. Jiraiya — firmly, unignorably himself. The discomfort of Raidou and the unhappy friction between them. No Genma to smooth down the rough edges. No Ryouma to distract with chatter or an unexpected, brilliant idea. 

I really liked this section for a couple reasons:

1)    I like how when certain members of the team are absent it highlights just how important they are to the entire team. Genma the vital lynchpin and mediator; Ryouma the emotional heart, friend, and innovator. I also appreciate that it’s not just their skillsets that are addressed either. They’re valuable for things like their kindness, level-headedness, and company.

2)    I love the acknowledgment of duality of Kakashi’s headspace and social interactions. The headspace required to do his job as a tracker vs. working as part of a team of antsy, ridiculous people are very different. The interactions he is going to be having with the wolfdogs that don’t even so much as speak human vs. his human coworkers are going to be very different too. Kakashi having an entirely different headspace with the dogs  to the point he actually separates it from being entirely human (like referring to “humans” as if it were a group he isn’t entirely part of) reminds me of all the way back to the thread Lost in the Dark when Raidou sees Kakashi speaking to the entire pack for the first time. He realizes Kakashi’s social skills have likely been influenced by his exposure to the dogs he grew up with. It was such an interesting revelation to me. This is the part I mean if you’re curious:

What followed was one of the strangest conversations Raidou had ever witnessed. Kakashi, with his economy of speech and movement that seemed so disjointed in human interaction, slotted into place as naturally as breathing. Raidou recognized that questioning head tilt echoed back by listening dogs; the silent, watchful glances that lingered a second beyond comfortable; the predatory edge polished like a fine weapon. Here, Kakashi’s hair and mask just looked like markings, no more notable than that shepherd’s black-tipped ears, or that hound’s white-ticked coat.

It explained a lot.

I really liked seeing Raidou defend Kakashi from Kasumi’s crochety and unjustified remarks. Progress!!! I’m proud.

I’ve probably said it before and I’ll probably say it again, but I always love your dialogue. There’s so much personality and liveliness in it. The banter is so entertaining. Usagi and Ginta especially right now.

I know the mythology the Dodomeki comes from is very different, but there is something about the descriptions of her that make me think a lot of what I felt watching the Netflix the Witcher series. Which might not mean anything to you if you haven’t seen it. Similarly horrifying and deadly and gross. It’s great.

The entire fight scene had my heart pounding. It was so intense and fast-paced. So many close calls and how fast she was was so terrifying. We just saw Kakashi with his sharingan so fast he was able to split a lightning strike in half, yet she’s so fast he can’t even hope to keep up. Fuck.

Abe had to chase him nervously around, attending to whatever bits of Jiraiya’s face he could reach, until the medic finally lost his temper and ordered Jiraiya to sit. 

I loved this.

I don’t have anything interesting to say about them theorizing about her sickly state, but I am very intrigued. I also love when little bits of real life actual science are incorporated in fantasy like this (ex. the mention of ketosis).

I am still very very worried for Kakashi’s hands. I suspect he won’t get out of this entirely unscathed even after treatment.

#anbu legacy

[kokobop-fire]

Cravings {Im Jaebum}

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gifts that I use, also English is not my first language so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Baby Shower 

You smile when Jessica put the chocolate ice cream in front of you; the two of you were eating everything you wanted it's your birthday, and you were going to enjoy it thoroughly; you put the words of your gynecologist in the back of your mind, you had ignored all your cravings, and today you were going to listen to them.

"That's your last ice cream until the party; you already finished a pot of ice cream alone" you shrugged; Jessica finished decorating the room "Do you think the place is safe enough for Youngjae's daughter?"

"I guess, what worries me the mos tit's that got7 is coming, why does he have to bring them?" It wasn't that you didn't like them; you've never interacted with them, you were afraid that they would hate you, you had enough on your mind with Jaebum's parents. "Besides, who told Jaebum that it's my birthday?"

Jessica went silent as she pretended to arrange the tablecloth "Jessica, Why?"

"He asked me."

"When?"

"One day," you looked at her with a raised eyebrow; you could see her ears turn red; she was lying. "Fine, he wrote to me. Lately, we have been talking a lot via text".

That surprised you, well not so much, you had noticed that Jaebum was talking to Jessica a lot, even flirting while she was on duty at the cafe, one day you could swear that Jaebum was going to kiss her if you had not entered the restaurant with your grandmother.

"Honey, can you help me finish making the kimchi?" your grandmother's voice interrupted the awkward silence that had formed in the room.

It wasn't that it bothered you that you and Jaebum weren't together r, but that didn't stop you from feeling a bit jealous.

"I don't think all this food is necessary, grandma, they are idols, most likely they are all on some strict diet, apart from that, I want pizza."

"Not in my watch you have to eat healthily; the baby needs her mother to be completely healthy to take care of her" You could feel how the baby moved 

"Look, she likes her grandmother's voice."

You tried to smile, but your mind did not leave the image of Jaebum and Jessica. Would they be a good couple? You and jaebum never got that chance. You closed your eyes, trying to control yourself; today was your day.

You smiled at Youngjae's girlfriend, she was a sweet girl, and she's the only one who hasn't looked at you weirdly since they arrived "I know what cravings feel like; I torture Youngjae with mine."

In the distance, you could see Jessica talking to Jaebum; you closed your eyes again, trying to control yourself "Can you give me a moment?"

You locked yourself in the bathroom to control yourself, you were in a bad mood, your feet hurt, you were hungry, you are dying to eat a giant hamburger, but you did not have the heart to tell your grandmother that the Miyukguk made you nauseous. And above all, you had received Jaebum's friends at your house, and all they have done is look at you badly or leave the conversations when Jaebum introduced you.

You came out of the bathroom, a little calmer.

"Honey, we're going to sing the birthday, the boys told me that they have to go for a dance practice," your grandmother told you taking your arm, you frowned at her words, Jaebum told you they had the next two days off "They are so kind, and the baby has the most beautiful cheeks in the world, they look like mochis."

Sure, Grandma, they are nice to you, but not to me; they hate you so much that they already got the perfect excuse to leave your party. You went to Jaebum to ask if it was true,

"What are we laughing at?" You snap; Jessica looked at you a little worried.

"Jessica was telling me how yesterday you were eating mayonnaise and ketchup in the dark of the kitchen." Jaebum kept laughing; that wasn't true. "I had heard that cravings were crazy, but eating mayonnaise and ketchup right out of the pot is gross ..."

"It was not mayonnaise and ketchup; it was marshmallow cream and homemade jam that my grandmother had prepared," You interrupted Jaebum, a little angry "It's normal; it's something I ate way before pregnancy."

Jaebum was going to say something, but your grandmother came out of the kitchen with giant chocolate fudge; Jessica, Youngjae's girlfriend, and your grandmother were the only ones singing happy birthday.

"You know what? Stop, go if you don't want to be here, my birthday is not a day for me to have a bad time and less to be surrounded by hypocritical people "you yelled, you had already reached your top, you could see how Jackson whispered something to Jinyoung "I opened the doors of my house for all of you, and all you guys have done is ignore me."

They were silent, looking at you with pity "I'm trying to control myself, not being a hothead, but none of you do your part; I know our situation is not the best, but at least I'm trying to control myself, and what I get from your part of his hatred, the only one who has been good enough to me has been Youngjae's girlfriend ..."

"My name is…."

"Not now," You screamed again, scaring the baby she was holding "You know what? I'm the one who's going to go; you guys stay and enjoy the rest of the party."

You went to the door, while you grabbed your bag "(Y / N), wait" you heard Jaebum's voice when you were about to leave the cafe, you turned around to meet Jessica and Jaebum "Please stay the boys are sorry."

"Besides, is your favorite cake" I try to smile, Jessica.

"Keep it, as well as you want to stay with Jaebum," you shouted again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's 16,285.95", the cashier told you; you took a taxi to Itaewon; it was the first place that occurred to you, apart from the farthest from your house. "Keep the change."

You had started to walk around the place, you felt like a stranger, a pregnant woman on a Saturday night in the area with the most open clubs and bars, the street was full of people, when you found the store, you went in to relax until the cravings came in. You bought all the chocolates that you could carry in your arms.

"(Y / N?)" You heard someone call, and you found the face of an old classmate. "Long time no see."

Jisoo was a fellow who sat next to you in economics. "Hi Jisoo," you smiled at him as you sat on the chair outside the store.

"How are you?" Jisoo was one of the most handsome men that had been in your class, and you and Jessica had had a little crush in the "Apart from Pregnant."

you feel your face turn red "Well, I'm alone on my birthday, and I just bought 16,000 won worth of candy bars; what did you think?"

"Huh... what happened?"

"Well, I made the mistake of yelling at my grandmother and scaring a baby, just because the hormones have me neurotic enough to think that Jessica and Jaebum have something behind my back."

Jisoo was silent for a moment. "Got7's Jaebum?" I nodded slightly. "Most likely, yes."

I looked at him, surprised, "Why?"

"Jessica always talked about how beautiful he is and how beautiful his voice is; after a while, it becomes annoying when you try to pay attention to what the teacher is explaining."

"Really?" he nodded with a big smile.

"Maybe Jessica is the victim here; you took her favorite idol and got pregnant with him, maybe she flirts with him from time to time and He too because Jessica is pretty. "He paused and looked me straight in the eye." Answer quickly, do you love Jaebum? "

"No," you gasp.

"There is your answer, you don't want it and look at it this way, what better person than Jessica to be the stepmother of your baby? Someone you already know and trust blindly."

You stay silent thinking about his words; he was right; Jessica was your best friend since you could remember, always protecting you, and now you get jealous just because a man was paying attention to her. "I think maybe I'm jealous because Jaebum is taking away my best friend."

"You're weird" you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

"I guess I'm done with the whole dating thing too," you sighed, taking the bag with your candy bars "there's one more thing in my life that's suddenly completely different; this is hard."

"Yeah, on the other hand, in a couple of months, you're gonna have something you're going to love more than any guy, just wait until you see your baby face."

"Thanks, Jisoo," you gave him a side hug.

"You want to grab something to eat?" 

"I think I'm going home; I owe some apologies to a couple of people and aside i’m going to eat  these ten candy bars."

"Hey, I think I cheer you up."

"Oh, you did. There are 20 in here," You laugh when you saw his surprised face.

"Goodnight, Jisoo"

"Goodnight (Y / N)"

Maybe Jessica dating Jaebum is a bad thing.

#Im Jaebum #jaebum #jb imagines #jb #got7 imagines #got7 fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #im jaebum x reader #jaebum x reader #jb x reader #park jinyoung #jackson wang #bambam #choi youngjae #mark tuan #kim yugyeom

[heli0s-writes]

VII. Try Again

Summary: Reconciliation has arrived. And it hurts. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Phew! I got one more chapter for ya and then we’ll be finished, my loves.

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

You watch Sam take off into the crowd and groan lightly at the way he almost resembles the road runner from those old Saturday morning cartoons, billowing dust clouds behind him and all. Steve clears his throat beside you and finally, you turn begrudgingly to regard him.

It’s been three weeks since the parking lot catastrophe, and almost two months since you’ve broken up. He stands now, blocking the sun, so that you’re eclipsed by the cool shade of his figure. It feels ominous, like a foreshadowing of how he might always be someone who takes the light but gives the shade. In this moment, you are both thankful and wary of the shade.

“Hey,” his voice is soft and careful. “I uh--- just wanted to say hi.”

“Yep, you said it.” You smile back, so that any passerby or watcher might interpret the look as one of warmth; no one is close enough to hear the stiff tone. But, to make polite conversation, since he did stalk you all this way, you ask, “Sarah with you?”

Steve points to the popsicle truck where Sarah bounces on her feet with Marnie holding onto her hand. There is a baseball cap on her head and a slight residue of pasty sunscreen on her arms that are quickly becoming ruddy in the sun.

It’s a little disappointing to see her like this, attached to her babysitter’s hip rather than her father’s. You’ve always wondered what the point of having a child was if parents don’t consistently spend time with them. It seems hypocritical that Steve and Peggy’s relationship fell apart because of her inability to spend time with Sarah—but here he is, too: not spending time with Sarah.

As if he could read your souring look, Steve shoves his hands in his pocket.

“I took your advice, you know.”

Your eyes flicker up to his as he kicks at a patch of vibrant green grass inattentively, “She’s been seeing a counselor... there’s-- as you said, lots of discussion. About the divorce. It’s getting better.”

A family comes up behind you to grab a piece of pie, so you and Steve find the right moment to move away from the front of the dessert table, taking your conversation away from possible eavesdropping ears. Chatter rises from the background, full of laughter and children's joyful shrieking. Popsicles shine in the daytime sun, sugary ice in dazzling and flamboyant hues, waving in the air as their owners run across the lawn. Colorful celebration flags flop noisily in the wind, adding their own percussion.

“And I… listened to the other thing you said, too.”

Sarah calls and waves to you from the line, pointing to the menu. You wave back with your best excited teacher face.

There’s no memory of that conversation sparking in your mind. You’re sure you’ve always thought so because he works so damn much—but can’t recall when it came up until your eyes begin to roam over the faded shirt stretched tightly over his chest. Speckled and gray, and perplexingly familiar. “What th—"

Suddenly the hazy sensation of your knees softly thumping against wood cabinets doors rushes into your mind. Soft grunts. A breathy laugh and low moans.

Oh.

Embarrassment creeps over your cheeks when you remember the last time you saw that shirt.

No, it wasn’t much of a conversation then, rather, more like a plead—a sigh passing your lips to encourage his hands as they slid over your body. The shirt, that Monday, had stayed on you for the rest of the day, even as Steve aligned his hips behind yours on the other side of the mirror.

You remember, too, its hem being rucked up when he took you back to bed again only a few hours later, sunlight pouring over you both and illuminating the thread-bare stipples of grey and white as he busied himself between your thighs. Steve couldn’t stop grinning each time he mentioned, “I really like this shirt on you,” even as his face was pressed into your lap.

The same grin graces his mouth now as you pull the brim of your hat down over your face once more. It’s a futile attempt to shield yourself from him and his knowing look, catching you in that burning memory.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I know this isn’t the best time...”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You hiss, but Sarah comes flying back with two popsicles in her hand, one melted orange drop splattering on your knee.

“Sorry!” She laughs before pushing it to Steve’s face, “Here you go, Daddy!!”

Then, she’s off again, tugging Marnie along as she finds Christine Parsons in the distance and jumps into her arms. It makes your heart hurt just a little, how easy it is for children to find solace in new caretakers. Even Sarah, whom you’ve grown so close to and spent personal time with, has seem to have forgotten all about you.

You can’t blame her, though, because it’s only the third week of class and all you think about every second of the day are your own twenty-four litter of students. Such is life in an elementary school. At least she’s not proclaiming her hatred for her teacher anymore.

But you watch Sarah dance around Christine now, tossing a beanbag in the air and catching it clumsily. In the small timespan of three weeks, she’s shot up another inch—growing so quickly from the already rapid change during the summer break. Her face has shifted slightly, elongating, nose becoming less round and taller, so many little details that add up to one seemingly giant transformation.

Yes. You understand Peggy Carter’s envy.

A bead of sweat trickles down your neck. Steve hands you the popsicle in his fist and you take it without thinking.

“I hired Sam after we--- you know, well…” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I realized my life needed some reupholstering. I had been too comfortable—falling into complacency, when I should have been paying more attention to the things that really matter.” His mouth turns into a forlorn crescent.

You glare, turning side to side, catching the eyes of the crowd shifting all around looking at the conversation that seems too serious to be in the middle of a bustling school picnic. He really has no sense at all, you think. Big, dumb, man.

Big, dumb, stupid, man.

Steve, unaware because he’s a big, dumb, stupid man, sighs as if he’s holding the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. “You told me you loved me, do you remember?”

To your right, a mother stops midway while reaching for a cut of brownie and you can see her eyes widen briefly before she quickly grabs the fudge square and plops it on her plate. She shuffles a little further away, but still in earshot as she pretends to look for another dessert for her tray. You think about saying something, but your eyes glaze over, trying to find the particular memory he’s referencing, instead.

No. Nothing. A cold trail slips down your palm and you realize the popsicle in your hand is dripping orange all the way down to your wrist.

Steve produces a tissue from his pocket and begins dabbing the melted ice away.

“I got ya.”

Your uninvited and eavesdropping audience member opens her mouth in a small round shape. Her eyebrows slope together as she absently places her hand to her chest, as if saying “aw.” Steve is tenderly wiping the bright orange trickle from your skin before he motions from the popsicle to your chin.

“You gonna eat that?”

When you stand too shocked and frankly flabbergasted to respond, he takes the opportunity to grab it and stick it in his own mouth, crunching the ice between his teeth and sucking the stick dry. A drop of sugar water lands in his beard.

“Huh--” He muses, “Thas pretty good!”

Your teeth gnash together in an attempt to push your suddenly growing smile away. Your eyes slip shut, frustrated with him. What the fuck, you think. Why is he like this? A smile weasels its way onto your face, tugging the left side of your mouth upward into a lopsided grin before you bite it down.

The mom, now taking an inordinate about of time to get a plate of dessert, smiles too.

“Is that a yes?” Steve whispers, peering down into your eyes. “You remember?”

“No.” You respond. “You’re being annoying. And messy.”

“Really?” He laughs, “Is that the best you got?”

Now you are glaring, because no, you’ve got so much more. He seems to pick up the cue and puts his hands up defensively. Then, out of reflex, Steve wipes your hand one more time for good measure. “Sorry, shouldn’t push it. Hey...” his voice grows softer now, and he leans in until you’re both sure the mother who is – goddamn it, still there—can no longer hear.

“Please give me another chance. Please, sweetheart. I really do love you.”

“Steve,” You snap, “That’s not something you say lightly. And it’s not something you say when you’re desperate, either. I have to go, and you should too because your daughter needs to spend time with you and not her babysitter, don’t you think?”

A sad smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah,” he admits, “Yeah. That’s why I hired Sam. He’s really good, you know? I wanted to show him the ropes around our fundraising events, but he’s been at the shop for almost a month now.”

It makes you pause.

“I’ve started taking off on the weekends. Come in just a few times—Wednesdays, for inventory. Fridays to prep for the Sunday rush. This is the first time I’ve called Marnie in almost a week.”

He looks so proud of himself, but he tucks his chin to his chest and regards you with shy eyes like a student waiting for a prize. Even his hands are inside his pockets again and he rocks back and forth on his heels, teeth tugging his heavy bottom lip gently. Big blue eyes. Stupid pretty eyelashes. Steven Grant Rogers knows exactly what he’s doing.

You begin to dig around in your purse in retaliation. Your fingers touch the edge of your phone—no, that’s not what you want. So, you continue to search as he waits.

Truly, you’re very proud of him-- beyond thrilled that he’s taken your advice to heart and has put Sarah first. Over at a game of cornhole, she cheers and claps when her teacher makes a beanbag in. Three weeks ago, that little girl was falling apart and cursing all of second grade.

The idea of him, finally not waking up at three in the morning and working until he literally drops seventeen hours later sweeps over your chest like a soothing current. You remember how exhausted he always was when you’d see him—and it was only summertime. His workload doubled with Sarah during the schoolyear. You remember coming over for spaghetti, and him, about to burst into tears while rolling meatballs.

It makes you relieved to know he would finally be taking care of not just his daughter, but himself as well.

Yes, you’re very proud of him.

Your fingers finally catch what you've been searching for. Slowly, with a ruinous smile, you peel off the points from the thin sheet of plastic and take it out of your purse.

“Congratulations, Steven,” you announce, sticking a quarter-sized and iridescent gold star over his chest. You hold up two thumbs and push them under his nose. “A-plus. Would you like a high-five, too?”

No, you’re not going to let him get away with his shit so easily.

Down the table, three more women have congregated, and they clap and cheer when Steve chuckles and leans his head back in mock defeat.

--

It’s four-thirty and you are slathering aloe vera on your shoulders when a knock pounds at your door. “No!” You yell, “Go away, Steve!”

You avoided him for the rest of the PTA Picnic, mingling with parents and your colleagues instead, but every time you would accidentally find his eyes over the yard, he’d smile at you. A few times, he actually waved. The star sticker, meant to be an insult, he wore as a badge of honor.

Big. Dumb. Stupid. Man.

Eventually, it got to the point where other people (other, other people, not just the eavesdropping mothers) noticed too. After the third person of the day asked if you were seeing Steve Rogers, you excused yourself and went home to nurse your growing sunburns.

“C’mon, hon!” Steve calls from the door, exceedingly pathetic.

“Fuck off!” Even though a laugh might escape.

“Sarah’s here!”

You yelp, because the f-bomb is fine and dandy, but not to her ears. When you yank the door open, wet glistening shoulders and all, ready to apologize... there’s no one there but Steve and two dozen roses freckled with baby’s breath and pearly wax flowers. Your arms cross and you think you might put your fist right through that outrageous arrangement. “Are you serious?”

Steve peeks over the massive amount of deep red and a river of words tumbles out.

“Yeah, Sam was positive that he clocked a flowers-and-chocolate girl from meeting you just one time and wouldn’t let me go without these. Figured it couldn’t hurt... but I got you something else...” He pulls a brown paper bag from behind his back and dangles it one-strapped from his pointer finger.

Two loaves of banana bread sit sandwiched next to each other inside- not even wrapped, just embedded in crinkled confetti-colored butcher paper. On top, a similarly colored scrap has scrawled in rushed and sloppy all-caps handwriting: UNLIMITED BANANA BREAD-- CAP&CO!

“You’re such an idiot.” You berate.

“I know!” Steve cries, “I know! I know! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, please let me come in so I can talk to you. God, please? Even if it’s just so you can yell at me some more?”

“I am not yelling at you.” You retort, but let him in, anyway. “You’ll know when I’m yelling.”

Steve sits cautiously on the couch, places your gifts on the coffee table, and then looks around curiously. Things are a little different since he’s been here last. There are more plants, and you’ve gotten a little square bookshelf positioned in the corner of the room by the T.V. The kitchen even hangs a few wooden panels with abstract strokes and your corkboard of polaroid photos has been changed out for small doodles and tiny watercolor pieces.

He realizes, as he peeks over into the dining room, that you’ve been painting in his absence. Each picture is more refined than the last, as if you’ve been practicing. His little hobby that he pressed upon you hastily, you’ve taken to heart and improved on, even though he’s been gone.

It probably hurt so bad, he thinks, to have those paints in your house, to be reminded of him. Steve shuts his eyes and counts to ten. He doesn’t deserve you, but he wants you. He wants you so much.

“So?” You ask, brow furrowed on the sofa chair to his right. Now that he’s physically inside your apartment, the mood has changed considerably. The snarky banter in public and goading at the door has transformed into solemn and dead air. You don’t know what he might say, and even worse, you don’t know what it is you’ll do in return.

It’s easy. So easy to care for him. So easy to fall back into that routine of being with Steve Rogers.

But he’s shown you that he finds it easy to return to Peggy, too. And you— the easiest one of them all, will just forgive him for it? Your breath sticks to your lungs and refuses to come out. If you could go back to that day in bed and have pleaded with him not to pick up the phone, you probably would.

No, that’s too simple. It’s childish, and naïve, too.

“I’m sorry.” Steve finally speaks into the silence of your living room. His hands are folded over his knees, and he is looking at you like he is trying to bury those words inside your body. He calls your name. “Baby, I am so sorry. I am so goddamn sorry.”

It hurts. It hurts all over, but you won’t let him see you cry. “Okay.” You reply tepidly. Sorry isn’t enough.

“The truth is, I made a mistake. A really big mistake, and what’s worse is, I was too scared to admit it. I could think up of a million reasons why —about Peggy, or Sarah… It’s… so hard.” Steve puts his head in his hands, “The hard thing is that I have always been… stubborn. I was stubborn enough to move Sarah here by myself. I was stubborn to think that I could raise her on my own. Obviously, I couldn’t; I was falling apart, working too much, didn’t know how to talk to my daughter… and hadn’t spoken to Peggy in months. God, I hated being away from Sarah.  And when an easy road made its presence known to me— I went right for it.”

You want to focus on his words, because you know he means them, but a part of you begins to disengage to ease your own suffering.

“You got caught right up in the middle of it.” Steve whispers, choked on his sentences. “I wanted to badly to make my family work again, I didn’t realize that family doesn’t need to mean… what I think it means. It can be anything. And love can be anything.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Steve?”

The both of you are in tears now. Your breath comes out in short and sharp puffs as you try to contain the pooling wells of your eyes. Steve’s own face is flushed pink, as wipes his cheeks with the heel of his palm.

“Honey,” he stutters, “I love you. I love you so much. I know your love and it’s wonderful.”

“Y-you didn’t even c-call— I’m not— I’m not a fucking back up plan, Steve!”

He rushes off the couch in a fumble of noisy limbs and falls to your feet on his knees. You retreat into the cushion of the sofa chair, legs drawn and wrap your arms around yourself. Instinctively, you want to be protected from the hurt-- from him. You’re a jumble of wracked sobs and groans as your head begins to pound.

“I know you’re not.” His arms wrap around yours, digging behind your back as he shifts to move onto the seat as well. You’re an absolute mess, completely shattered into pieces in his embrace, jaw clenched and frozen as your eyes leak all the way down to your neck.

Steve holds on tighter, buries his head into your neck where droplets run down your shoulder and onto your back. He rubs your spine gently, shushing your cries.

He feels so warm and good to lean into. And in this moment of weakness and sadness, all you want is that warmth again, just for a single minute— even if it’s foolish.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was afraid and stupid. I thought it would be easier to go back to something I had already known, but I know now that being with you is what I really want. Your love is a wonderful thing. I’m so sorry I ruined it.”

He says it into the top of your head, his warm breath washing over you with each exhale. Steve pulls you to his chest and you can hear his heart hammering in his ribcage. Your own is near identical to his, deafeningly loud in the quiet rest of the apartment. His hands rub up and down your arms.

“Could you love me again?” He asks softly. “Could you try? I won’t let you down this time... I swear.”

His words are sweet like the very honey he stirs into his recipes. They slide down his tongue and out his mouth and soak you in their sticky, syrupy promise. You pull away and look into his eyes, red and blue, glassy and crawling with veins. He wipes a tear from your cheek, and you do the same to him.

Everything is fuzzy. You feel worn down and scattered about, pieces of you lost and trying to find each other.

The two of you sit there, looking at one another on the tiny sofa couch. Then, distractedly, you sniff.

“Where is Sarah?”

Steve erupts into a sharp, wet, laugh before he inhales and blinks his tears away, “God, I thought you were going to headbutt me.” He admits.

“She’s with Marnie at a movie. I asked her to give me an hour and a half before dinner. Time’s almost up.” When you hum softly, he takes the opportunity to press his nose against yours. When you sigh, he does it again before sliding his lips over your mouth.

“I love you.” He whispers against your cheek. One then the other, he places kisses over your face. “I love you.” Your tongue sits swollen in your mouth, unable to find the right words for this moment. “I’d never say it if I didn’t mean it.”

You feel both heavy and weightless, wavering between acceptance and denial. “I--I don’t know, Steve.” You whisper.

“Let’s try again, baby,” he pleads, trailing his lips over your jaw, the two of you scrunched up like pretzels, legs entwined, arms linked and gripped tight.

It’s obvious why clichés like breakup sex and secret relationships are exciting. The aspect of having a potentially glorious thing one last time is a thrill. This, too-- this apologetic, tender, intimacy-- is thrilling. Steve Rogers, torn open and laid bare for you, waiting for you, pleading for you, makes your stomach flip and sink.

He smells like sandalwood and pine. Clean shampoo and summer sun. You try to swallow the deadened weight of your tongue away, but it only grows larger.

Finally, you sigh, wipe your face one last time, and wipe his eyes too. With a crooked smile, you say, “Let’s go get Sarah.”

--

The car ride to Steve’s house is as quiet as a funeral. Your radio remains off the whole time and your brain is wiped completely blank by sheer emotional exhaustion. Any time a thought of whether you’ve done the right or wrong thing arises, it turns into snowy static and disappears. Maybe you’re a saint. Or an idiot. Maybe idiots can also be saints, and maybe that’s what you are.

What you really want is to stop feeling so much. The ache has subsided but its now replaced by unease laced with a steady drumbeat of something that resembles elation. You can’t help but feel excited again, because Steve is here. Steve is back. Steve has promised. And you hope he will deliver. Your chest thumps noisily and at light speed when you remember how happy he made you just a few months ago.

The reality of that approaching happiness resurrects itself inside of you, taking off on eagerly flapping wings.

Yet, the concerned part of you still stands planted on the earth, arrow raised and nocked, waiting to loose the bolt to shoot that bird down.

The two of them watch each other guardedly as they grow further and further apart.

 You turn off the engine and meet him on the sidewalk where he stands waiting patiently. Marnie’s car isn’t here yet, so he leads you inside by the hand and brings you a glass of water, observing you all the while.

“What?” You ask hoarsely after a big gulp.

He smiles—wide, blindingly white, reminiscent of the old wallpaper on your phone. “Just glad you’re here.” He says, suddenly shy.

“Yeah,” You reply sadly, “Me too. I think.”

Steve takes the glass from your hand and sets it on the countertop. “It’s okay.” He whispers, tugging lightly on your finger like a lost child, “It’s okay.”

A knock from the front door pulls your attention away and you can hear Sarah chattering on the other side. Marnie opens the door with her spare key and Sarah leads here in with a half-eaten bag of popcorn clutched to her chest. She does look so tall now, you think, and older with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her jawline beginning to angle just slightly more like her father’s.

“Hi daddy!” She says in-between a crunching mouthful, and then pauses when she sees you behind her father. “Hi!!! Wow! Are you gonna stay for a sleepover? Daddy doesn’t work tomorrow! Can we go somewhere?”

She places the bag on the nearest counter and runs over to where you stand by the coffee table, jumping right up into your arms.

You stumble, because she’s even bigger than the last time she did it, and your life flashes before your eyes.

This time, because he was expecting it, Steve catches you against his chest and sets you right. Marnie smiles and waves goodbye from the doorway.

--

You wash dishes side-by-side in the kitchen after Steve tucks Sarah into bed at eight. She’s worn out from spending her day outside and running around so much that over dinner you watched her nearly doze off while eating her vegetables.

Steve had made dinner with fluffy brown rice and sautéed shrimp and lemon zest. On the side, he steamed summer squash and cut fresh slices of sweet peppers. Once more, you and Sarah set the dinner table and poured the drinks while he arranged the plates.

Dessert was simple: plump, blood red cherries from the farmer’s market. Sarah splashed burgundy over her shirt, and you dabbed some vinegar on it before rinsing it out for her in the restroom. Her nose had scrunched up at the smell and she pretended to barf until she actually dry heaved a little.

Huh. Second grade, you thought, as you backed away from her.

Patting the dishes dry, you stack them neatly into their respective cabinets before washing your own hands. Steve brushes a strand of your hair away from your face and leads you back to the couch where it’s safe: neither too forward nor too modest. Appropriate enough for two adults to talk while Sarah sleeps in her room with the door cracked.

Her bedtime playlist slips down the hall as a tinny, melodic voice. The lights are dimmed low, just enough for the two of you to see each other and not much else.

His hands sandwich yours and he places them in his lap. As he turns to look at you, the lamp behind his head illuminates his long hair, casting radiance all around him. Your breath quickens.

Big. Stupid. Beautiful. Man.

“You know what I thought the first time I met you?” He asks suddenly, a sly smile growing on his face. You frown. The hand on top of yours brushes over your knuckles, fingers rubbing back and forth slowly as he continues, “I thought—”

“I was too young.” You interject, rolling your eyes at the memory of his crass words at Open House.

“Yes.” He laughs. “I did think you were too young. Inexperienced. I had this idea of what a teacher should have been… But then—” he snickers again suddenly, clapping his hand over yours, “then you handed me your resume and flicked me off at the same time.”

You grin, because yeah, you remember that, too. It was a pretty audacious move on your part, but he had really pissed you off. “Is that what won you over?”

“Yeah. It really was. It was impressive—your resume, and your middle finger.”

“I didn’t like you very much when I met you.” You admit, “Didn’t like you … for a long time.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” Steve chuckles, “You would literally run away from me. I had to chase you down with a plate of food-- with specially made banana bread! Jesus, that recipe was so hard.”

“Well, Steve Rogers,” You sigh, “Thank God I like you now.”

“Not God,” Steve corrects, “Thank Bucky. He really set me straight— twice.”

Steve told you once over a conversation all about Bucky and Natasha, the two old friends you briefly met in early June. Bucky was the one who had encouraged Steve to ask you in the first place. You remember replying how you’d have to thank him next time you see him for giving Steve the idea. Apparently, you’ll have to thank him again, too.

“He pretty much yelled at me for twenty minutes after… you know.”

“You deserved it.” You say.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, “I really did.”

Then, after a moment of silence, because both of you are unsure where to take this conversation next—too soon to apologize again and too soon to start acting like nothing is wrong again, Steve clears his throat.

“I talked to Peggy, after the airport.” He says carefully, as if the very mention of her name might make you burst into tears. You’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t, but again, it wasn’t her you had been upset with. So, you nod quietly and wait for him to continue.

“I think... we’re all on the same page.”

“Which page is that?”

“That you’re too good for me.”

It’s supposed to come out as a humorous thing, a thing you would laugh at and tell him the opposite. He even holds his breath in wait for the moment when your laugh would escape in a joyful exhale, but instead you glare. “I’m just a person.” You say grimly, and he doesn’t quite understand why the joke that was supposed to be funny has suddenly turned serious.

“I’m just a person. Not a substitute. Not a replacement guardian. Not an idea of a lover or mother or--”

“Woah!” And then the tears are falling down your face again and Steve’s chest feels like it might break open. “Honey, I don’t love you as anyone but yourself. I love you as the caring teacher. The… new painter?” He offers you a sweet smile, “The funny, beautiful, glorious, and gracious girlfriend…”

“My girlfriend?” He asks bashfully.

A small laugh escapes as you wipe your eyes, “Don’t forget I’m good in bed, too.” You tack on jokingly.

Steve puts his forehead in his hand, “Jeez, you gotta meet Bucky again. You two are two of a kind.”

He peeks at you between his fingers. A slow, tender gaze, full of affection and promise. Steve bites his bottom lip, looks at you with hooded eyes and takes a deep breath in. His tongue rubs against the edge of his teeth. “Can’t wait to spend time with just you.” He says in a single quick breath. “I want to make you feel better, baby.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “Don’t disappoint me, Rogers.”

The comment that is meant to be a joke flips on its head. Steve surges forward and tucks both arms under yours, pressing his chest to your chest, burying his face into your neck. “I won’t.” He murmurs, pained. His beard tickles when it scrapes against your skin, but his hot breath wicks it away.

“I won’t ever again.”

“Okay, Steve” You sigh, cheek resting on his head, “Okay.”

Last Chapter

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #modern au #fanfiction #reader insert #slow like honey heli0s

[fromtheashesofvalyria]

They were both too young to know how to love.

Of course leave it to Harry Potter to be what drags me back into writing fan fiction. Apologies to people who follow me already since this is pretty different from posts I’ve done in the past, so feel free to ignore. 

I just wanted to try and get some thoughts out about a fanfiction I’m currently writing, specifically the relationship between Harry and Daphne. Or the lack of one right now anyway. ;)

The basic background is that this is a soulmate AU with soulmate marks and empathy/semi-telepathy (I’m not sure what to call it honestly). The three main ships are Dramione, Ransy, and Pottgrass, and it’s a slowburn enemies to lovers starting from Goblet of Fire on. Emphasis on slowburn and enemies considering two of the involved are Draco and Pansy.

Before I started writing again, the only ones of those three I shippped/read fanfiction of were Draco/Hermione and Pansy/Ron. I originally picked Daphne because I’d read fics that had her as a character and liked her in them; after that I read two fanfics that made me really ship them, because the amount of ships I have due to fanart/fanfic is huge. (Previously I was, and actually still am, a Nottgrass shipper because I am a multi-shipper a lot of the time.)

I’m going to put the rest of my rambling under the cut.

So there are a couple different things going on here. The most superficial was that, when I had started writing, I’d been re-watching the Lizzie Bennet Diaries so I was a bit influenced by Pride and Prejudice when writing Daphne at first. Specifically the inspiration was Matthew Macfaden’s Darcy from the 2005 movie and Daniel Vincent Gordh’s William Darcy from LBD. (And as an aside Astoria was slightly based on Georgianna from the 2005 movie and Gigi Darcy from LBD.)

The inspiration became less strong the more I wrote, but her being standoffish/cold/rude to non-Slytherins (except Astoria) and the scene where Daphne tries to make a deal with Harry was inspired by Darcy's first, horrible proposal to Elizabeth. But that’s the shallower reason, let’s get into the meat of it, which is background vs appearance. 

Harry Potter was orphaned at the age of one years old, was raised in an abusive family who didn’t even give him a room for ten years, had no friends until he got to Hogwarts, and was lied to by the Dursleys’ about what his parents were actually like. There were no pictures of his parents, he wasn’t told they were a witch and wizard, and he didn’t even know they were murdered. When he is told about his parents, he is given the romanticized view of James and Lily and their relationship. He thinks they were the perfect picture of soulmates, as he hasn’t been told that James was once a jerk that Lily really disliked. His first real experience of familial love was with the Weasleys and thinks of them as the best family in the world. Daphne knows nothing of this aside from the fact that he was raised by muggles; I don’t think she thought much about Harry at all outside of times parts of his adventures were found out by the school. Like the flying car incident. As she said in the fanfic, Harry just sort of existed to Daphne. 

Harry is only fourteen years old at the start of the fic, and has only had a crush on Cho at this point, but he does know that he wants to have the real love and respect his parents had. He wants to have a family of his own that would actually be loving. He doesn’t want his potential future children to grow up without love. And, most importantly, he doesn’t think Daphne is capable of that. 

What Harry knows about Daphne’s background is that she’s part of an old, wealthy pureblood family a la the Malfoys or the Parkinsons. (He wouldn’t know the term Sacred Twenty-Eight.) That’s pretty much it and would be about the amount of knowledge all the students from the other houses would know (except for Astoria, the Ravenclaw little sister, who is just as uncomfortable as Daphne when asked to talk about their parents). Harry is also generally dismissive of Slytherin house as a whole thanks to Draco and his gang; he thought they looked like a “pale and unpleasant lot'' at the Welcome Feast in first year. 

Here’s how Daphne comes across to the kids outside of Slytherin: standoffish; doesn’t seem to talk much outside of class participation, and is often sarcastic when she does; doesn’t seem to have friends outside of Slytherin and the only non-Slytherin she is consistently genuinely affection towards is her little sister, and not everyone sees that; while not a member of Pansy’s gang is still known to be a good friend of Pansy’s, and is also close to Blaise who is seen as equally snobby. 

(Speaking of Blaise, Daphne still wants to know why she’s the only one to get an insulting nickname like Ice Queen when Blaise and Theo are often just as anti-social towards the other houses as she is. In Theo’s case, more so. XD) 

Of course, it’s easy to sympathize with Daphne when you know what her background is really like. Her parents, despite being soulmates, have an absolutely toxic relationship that their daughters had to witness: “Daphne Greengrass hadn’t been a fan of the soulmate concept for years now. She could even pinpoint the exact moment her disillusionment started: the night before her sixth birthday when her father finally told her mother that, soulmates or not, he had never loved her and had only married her out of both obligation to the bond and to the alliance with her family. This had then turned into a screaming match in her father’s study accompanied by the sound of glass being thrown at a wall.” This is just one incident. 

Daphne was so used to her parents arguing (and to be really clear, I’m not talking about normal arguments couples have; I’m talking about full-blown trying to verbally/emotionally hurt the other as possible or just arguing to try and win against the other person) that she was already making it her job to comfort Astoria, who “was still a baby, and upset by it”. Daphne has grown up with a very dim view of romance and romantic love. 

Now, Daphne does know that people can be genuinely in love. For all their many, many faults, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy are devoted to each other. Pansy’s parents aren’t on the same level, but are loving/affectionate enough with each other. However, she doesn’t think love and happiness are guaranteed so it’s better to have something more solid like respect or trust. However, that is hard to get across to Harry because she’s grown up to think being emotional is bad/a weakness and it’s hard for her to open up to people she doesn’t know well. (Pansy was her first friend at five years old and is still her best friend up until this point; it’s also the reason her other friends are the Slytherins she’s known for years at this point. People she’s used to.)

She could have approached Harry differently, flirted, or suggested dating, or tried to be romantic but she would have thought of that as dishonest/manipulative. Because Daphne knows love isn’t guaranteed for soulmates. Because Daphne knows she’s not the most likeable person. Because Daphne isn’t sure she could love Harry and doesn’t want to lie about it. Yes, Slytherins are all about cunning and clever ways to get what they want, but this is one of the areas Daphne would not even consider something like that. For all her issues, Daphne does have some standards. 

Self-control and (just control in general) is something Daphne clings to because her parents were often unpredictable and she had to create a sense of being in control of her life. Her father is not a warm or empathetic person and he looks down on people being too emotional. (Yes, this is supposed to be hypocritical considering he’d get into screaming matches with his wife.) He would be out of the house a lot for both work and to get away from his wife. Her mother was emotionally and mentally in a bad place for a long time and withdrew from her children a bit. She improved by the time Daphne was at school, but her favorite is clearly Astoria for reasons that will be expanded on later. Daphne tells herself she gets it because Astoria is her favorite family member too. (Also I just want to make this clear, Daphne and Astoria are close siblings who genuinely love and care about each other. Daphne is also Astoria’s favorite family member. Their relationship, as I like to see/write it could be another post though so moving on.) 

This need for self-control also was because of the stutter she had growing up. She was already self-conscious about it and she was very aware that her parents (her father in particular) saw it as a problem, which stressed her out more and made her stutter worse. The more emotional she’d get, the more likely she’d stutter. Whereas the more comfortable she was, the less often it happened. Pansy already mentioned in one of her POV’s that she barely heard Daphne stutter around her after a while; not a huge spoiler or surprise, but it was the same with Astoria. One of Daphne’s pre-Hogwarts tutors was essentially a wizard speech therapist, so she had it under control by first year but it was still recent enough at the time that she was pretty afraid of slipping up at school. Also consider the fact that some students (not just Slytherins either, but from all houses) made fun of Quirrell's stutter, and he was a teacher. (Yes he was evil, and only pretending to have one, but they didn’t know that then.) How much worse would the teasing be for a first year student? So as her father told her, sometimes it’s better not to talk at all. 

Harry doesn’t know any of this. 

Before things really started in the fanfic, Harry’s one interaction with Daphne that really stood out to him was that time she was sarcastic to him in first year after his first Quidditch game: “You know my family made the snitches used at Hogwarts. Please try not to choke on another of them next time.” When fourth year started, she ignored him completely in the Great Hall, and didn’t help her friend in a way he didn’t recognize/understand. 

The next day, Daphne sends him a note ordering him to meet her during lunch, after not acknowledging him in public. (As Harry says, she didn’t even write please. It also didn’t ask him for a date and time to talk, just told him to meet her in a specific location.) When he asked if she was proposing to date him, she “made a truly exasperated sounding noise” which definitely hurt his pride a little. She also tried to approach a relationship (not necessarily even a romantic relationship, just in general) with him, someone she has barely spoken to,  like a business deal, which he thinks is a cold way to look at it and he loses his temper. However, it should be noted that she asked him why when he rejected her out of hand and well, don’t ask a question you wouldn’t want an answer to. 

Later on he sees her picking on a second year for seemingly no reason. In reality, this is a girl who did something to her sister and Daphne doesn’t let things like that slide when it comes to people she cares about. 

Now afterwards things get murkier because Daphne is wanting to freeze him out/ignore him, but he is the one to poke at her. The soulmate bond is like an outside force that pushes down on two people to try and force them together, which can be downright unbearable if you really don’t like the other person. Harry finds the pressure it puts on them very hard and is stunned when she acts like she’s not affected at all. (He’d feel better if he knew she was feeling it just as much as him. Sort of like how Hermione and Ron both take comfort in the fact that Draco and Pansy are having as bad a time with the bond as they are.) He’s already under stress from the situation with his scar hurting and Sirius leaving his hideout to come back to England because of it, now add on to that the stress of an outside magical force trying to bond him to a girl he doesn't like and who doesn’t like him. No, he’s not handling it in a great way, but he’s young. 

And Daphne could always try and talk to him about things good (sending him a song through the bond to help him sleep when worry for Sirius was keeping him up) and bad (the incident with the second year), but she doesn’t try. Partly it’s out of pride, but largely it’s because she’s developed unhealthy coping skills that she doesn’t realize are unhealthy.

#self indulgent #fanfiction #pottgrass #dramione #ransy #lions among the snakes #i think getting my thoughts down like this helped my muse #might ramble about my fanfiction again sometime #can you tell I’m an over thinker

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

It’d been a week since you were first forced to come here and… well, it hadn’t actually been that bad, to be perfectly honest. Yes, the house shook whenever a wolf or two decided they needed to run through the rooms or down the hall and quiet meals were nonexistent, but you got used to it after a while. The constant chatter and music in the house became background noise that lulled you to sleep.

The other note – whether a high one or a low one, you were still debating – was the fact that you’d successfully been able to avoid the orange haired wolf named Sehun. Meal times seemed to be the only interaction you got – if it could even be called that. The two of you were in the same room, but sat far away from each other, usually on opposite sides of the table. Sometimes, he wouldn’t sit down at the table at all, instead opting for the rarely used island seats.

Occasionally, eye contact would be made between the two of you before both of you swiftly looked away and pretended the incident never took place. As elated as you were to not have to converse with the insufferable wolf, you had an odd feeling that it wasn’t completely one sided. You couldn’t help but notice how quickly he left the room and how he seemed to disappear for hours at a time, sometimes not coming home until well after dinner. There wasn’t much to do around here and as far as you knew, the wolves preferred to keep to themselves, so you didn’t think he would be hanging out with people from town. Your curiosity too strong to ignore, you decided to ask one of the others where he was going.

“Who knows,” Baekhyun shrugged, never losing focus on the video game in front of him. “He’s always disappearing these days and he never really answers us when we ask.”

“I’m getting worried about him,” Tao said from where he was lounging on the couch. It was one of the rare moments that you didn’t see Lottie with him as well, so you figured she must have had work or something else that kept her away from the farmhouse.

Resting your elbows on the back on the couch, you leaned forward and asked, “Why’s that?”

“He’s the only one who’s not mated.”

You jumped at the additional voice, not needing to turn around to see who’d emerged from their room.

Kris somewhat intimidated you. If his height wasn’t imposing enough, his deep voice – especially when he was scolding another member of the pack – added heavily to the mixture. The only times you’d seen him soften was when he was with his daughter or Evie. Whenever they came around, the hardness visibly melted away.

“Wish he’d hurry up and get mated,” Baekhyun muttered. He starting hitting the buttons on the controller with a little too much force. “Maybe then he’d stop giving everyone else crap.”

Kris smirked. “From what I hear, you deserve it, considering all the crap you gave Minseok and Yixing.”

“It was out of love,” the gamer insisted.

“Sure, it was. Keep it down, okay? I just got Mei down for a nap.”

Baekhyun sent him a mock salute. “You got it, daddy-o.”

Kris shook his head, keeping whatever comment was brewing in his head to himself as he ascended the stairs.

So was that what Sehun’s problem was? You should’ve concluded earlier that he was the only one left given that everyone else seemed to be paired off, but there were so many bodies here at any given time, they had a tendency to blur together. That didn’t mean that he needed to take it out on you, though.

He did apologize.

Kind of, you argued with yourself. It was a lame apology, but it was there nonetheless.

Blowing out air from between your lips, you pushed off the couch and headed up the stairs. You weren’t entirely sure where your feet were headed, only that you were letting them take you wherever they saw fit. And for some odd reason, they decided it would be a nice day to go outside. The air wasn’t too bad, if a little musty from an oncoming storm developing in the distance. You weren’t sure if it would make it this far, but you were sure the rain would be beautiful among the trees if it did.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the side door to the garage wide open. Muttered curses and clanking metal escaped from inside. Your two options were to either continue on into the forest outstretched before you or investigate the source of the noise. Without thinking twice, you opted for door number two, quietly sneaking into the garage with as little noise as possible.

One of the fancier cars was sitting up on a pair of black plastic ramps. From underneath, a pair of long legs dressed in tattered skinny jeans with grease stains stuck out on the dirty concrete floor. Whoever was muttering under the engine hadn’t realized that they were no longer alone. You stood there awkwardly for a minute or two before making you presence know. “Do you need any help?”

Bang! “Ow!”

You flinched, knowing full well that that was your fault. “Oops. Sorry.”

The mechanic squirmed their way out from under the car and sat up, finally giving you a view of their face. Oh, great.

Sehun massaged the spot on his forehead that had connected with metal as he squinted up at you. “What are you doing here?”

You could have asked him the same thing. Wasn’t he supposed to be out running around on four paws avoiding the house and its occupants? Biting back the sarcastic answer, you decided to be a bit more civil this time around and shrugged. “I was bored and the door was open.”

Sehun shook his head and went back under the car. “Well, why don’t you go have a vision somewhere and leave me alone?”

“They don’t work like that,” you spat. Looking around, you saw that this place was any car enthusiast’s dream. The vehicles lined up ranged anywhere from vintage classics to shiny luxury brands. Shiny tools and gas canisters that suspiciously looked like NOS were scattered around the outer edges. How were they able to afford all this?

“Then how do they work?” he asked, pulling you from your observation. You blinked. Was he actually going to have a conversation with you? A civilized one, at that?

Interested in seeing where this would go, you leaned up against the tool bench, the sharp edge of the counter digging into your back. You crossed your arms and replied, “I’m not entirely sure. They just kind of come when they want to. A bit annoying, actually.”

The tinkering sounds of a wrench stopped. “So, you really have no control over them?”

“No, I don’t,” you confirmed. “I wish I did. Then I’d just make them stop.”

“So, you don’t like knowing what’s going to happen?” Sehun continued on with whatever he was working.

“It hasn’t exactly been showing me the future, not how most people would expect, anyway.” You were surprised by how easy it was to talk about this, especially with Sehun, a werewolf that you hardly knew. Then again, you’d never really needed to explain how the visions work before. While the power wasn’t exactly common among witches, it wasn’t entirely unheard of either, so most knew the basics of how they worked. “Sometimes, it’s a scene - a short one with zero context – or it’s a feeling. That’s how they started out. Most of the time, I can’t make heads or tails of what I’m seeing.”

“That… really sucks,” Sehun said sympathetically. It took you by surprise. You figured he’d throw another sarcastic fastball at you like that night in the kitchen.

Staring down at the ground, you muttered, “Yeah, it does.”

“So,” Sehun said after a long pause, “besides the blood moon and the blonde woman, have you seen anything else in these visions?”

You don’t know why, but your cheeks suddenly burned at the question. The only thing you had seen was the wolf. However, thinking back on it, the moment felt so intimate, you didn’t want to share. Was it one of these wolves you’d been with? You cleared your throat and answered somewhat honestly, “Yeah, there was a white wolf at one point.”

The clanging of the wrench hitting the floor echoed off the steel walls of the garage. What was that about?

“Do any of you have white fur?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Sehun replied quietly. “Me and Luhan.”

Luhan. The one with the hunter mate – er, ex-hunter mate. You had a strong feeling that it wasn’t him. Which only left…. “Oh.”

“Was the wolf… doing anything?”

“No,” you said a little too quickly. “No, he was just… there. Just sitting there. Only him. No one- Nothing else.” Way to play it cool.

Pushing himself out from his spot, Sehun sat up and looked at you. “Do you like white wolves?”

“What?” you scoffed. “W-why would I like white wolves? Why would I like wolves in general? Technically, our species are enemies.”

Sehun raised a challenging eyebrow. “And yet, who created who? Kind of hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?”

Honestly, you’d never really thought about it. Not in too much detail, anyway. The animosity was just something you’d accepted. “You… have point.”

“It’s kind of like the monster Frankenstein,” he continued. “A witch made werewolves, but then the witch turned around and was scared of what she’d made.”

You ignored the second part of his statement to keep from starting a fight. The history between wolves and witches was long and tangled, each side having a slightly different story than the other. You’d never really paid attention to that part of class, though. History wasn’t exactly your favorite subject. Literature on the other hand…. “Technically, Frankenstein was the doctor. The monster never had a name.”

Sehun stared at you for the longest with an unreadable expression. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed at your correction. The way his brow crinkled gave you the impression that he was thinking hard about something and you hardly doubted that it was his memory over the original sci-fi thriller.

With a soft grunt, he pushed himself off the floor and stalked towards you, coming closer until there were mere centimeters between you. Heat radiated from him. You could feel it flow through both his black t-shirt and your own blouse, warming you up to the point you thought you would break out in a sweat. His eyes stayed trained on you. The dark brown irises flickered back and forth as if searching for something hidden in your face. Your heart was beating erratically in your chest and you prayed that even with his sensitive hearing that he wouldn’t be able to pick up on it. That quivering feeling in your stomach that you’d gotten back in the kitchen that first night was back, stronger and more forceful than ever. Why was your body reacting to him like this?

Sehun leaned in farther, causing you to lean back as well to keep the safe distance between you. He had you trapped in a cage made of his arms, steadfastly planted on either side of you. There was nowhere to run. You couldn’t go any farther, but you didn’t want to. You could feel his breath against your skin and his face had blurred in your vision from the closeness.

In a soft voice that you had to strain to pick up on, he questioned, “Who’s to say the doctor wasn’t the real monster?”

You couldn’t answer him. All airflow in your throat had stopped. He came in more and your eyes slowly began to close, though only slightly. Only a millimeter more and your lips would brush. How would he taste? Would he be sweet like the forbidden fruit? Could a witch and a wolf-

In a second he was gone, snatching a screwdriver off the counter behind you and walking back cockily to his spot on the floor. Breath refilled your lungs. But there was no way in hell you were even going to acknowledge the stunt he’d just pulled.

Clearing your throat, you half scoffed, half coughed as you said, “You’re really going to use the cliché argument that’s discussed in English classes all over the country?”

Sehun lazily rose one shoulder and dropped it. “Got me an A at the time.”

You snorted. “In what? Your second year of high school?”

Just as he opened his mouth to give you an escalated retort, a soft voice called out for you.

“(y/n)? Are you in here?” Soomi cautiously stepped in through the door as if she wasn’t allowed in this building. Her worried expression evolved into a smile once she caught sight of you. Thank goodness she hadn’t shown up only a minute or two prior. “There you are. I thought we might go ahead and squeeze in a lesson today.” She looked over to see that you weren’t alone. “Oh, hello, Sehun.”

Sehun waved at her with the screw driver. “Hey, Soomi.”

You jutted out your jaw, annoyed. He was always so much nicer to her. Yes, technically, he’d known her longer, but she was a witch, too. If you were going to hold some hostility towards a group a people, shouldn’t it at least be equal?

“Let’s go,” you grumbled and you walked out of there passed Soomi. As soon as your feet hit grass, however, you skidded to a stop.

A new car you hadn’t seen before pulled into the front yard before cutting the endgine. The driver’s side door opened and a girl with tanned skin wavy chocolate hair stepped out.

“Kita!”

Junmyeon burst out through the front door and practically jumped off the porch as he ran to the girl who’d just arrive – so this was his mate.

Soomi was frozen beside you as Junmyeon picked his mate up and twirled her around. Happiness, complete unadulterated joy, was evident all over his face. The girl – Kita – was just as ecstatic as she pulled him in for a quick kiss.

Grabbing Soomi’s arm, you tried to pull her away from the scene as you whispered, “Come on. Let’s go.”

But it was too late. You were spotted by Junmyeon before you could escape. If it was any consolation prize, the tiniest bit of guilt was written on his face at the display of affection that just took place. “Soomi, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Plastering on the fakest smile you’d ever seen her wear, Soomi waved a hand frantically. “No, no, don’t be sorry! It’s good see you’re back, Kita. (y/n) and I were just going inside to have a lesson, don’t mind us.”

“Well, that sounds interesting,” Kita said sincerely. You kind of wished she didn’t seem so sweet so you could actually dislike her. Logic was stopping you from that as well. She had no choice in matter either, so why be mad at her.

“Welp, we’ll see you guys later!” With a firmer grip, you tugged Soomi away, practically dragging her up the steps and inside the house. You didn’t let go until the two of you were seated at the kitchen table. For once the eating area was completely empty and you were grateful. Studying her face for any hint of a lie, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

You didn’t believe her. “I still think we should have stayed somewhere else. It’s never too late, you know.”

Okay, so you were also trying to convince her not only for the sake of her own heart, but for yourself as well.

After that encounter in the garage, you were worried about things… escalating. You were finding that you had very little self-control when it came to Sehun. If anyone else had dared come that close to you, they would have been walking away with a black eye. Yet, you were so close to touching his lips. You were afraid that next time neither of you would pull away. And you refused to be the wolf’s fun chew toy.

Soomi shook her head as she opened to botany book she’d been carrying. “Why do you want to leave so badly?”

“Why don’t you?” you whispered harshly. “You don’t have to put yourself through this.”

In a rare show of frustration, Soomi slammed her hand down on the table. “I’m not putting myself through anything, (y/n). I am not hung up on something that never even happened in the first place. Now, please, drop it and let’s get into your lesson.”

You’d never seen her upset like that. Soomi was always able to keep her calm no matter what. You had really touched a nerve by pushing and you were regretting it immensely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she somewhat smiled at you. “I know it’s because you care and I’m thankful for that.” Dropping the subject completely, she turned to the chapter she’d opened the book to and started explaining what wonderfully boring plant she’d be talking about today. Usually you spaced out or thought about other things while she talked, but today you stayed concentrated, actively engaging in conversation to make her happy.

Over the course of the next hour, the kitchen slowly began to fill with people. A few of the wolves, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol mostly, began working on dinner while a couple of curious mates sat at the table with you, listening intently to Soomi’s lesson. She answered every question they threw at her and it was obvious by her face that she enjoyed having attentive ears around her. When Junmyeon and Kita came in from the back door, you noticed Soomi barely looked in their direction. Sehun entered at some point as well, sniffing the air as if that was what brought him in here in the first place.

Just as the lesson finished up and the book was closed, one of the quieter mates – Dana – came running into the kitchen from the living room.

“We have a problem,” she announced through heavy breaths. Kyungsoo was by her side in a second.

“What is it?” He searched all over to make sure that she wasn’t injured in any way.

“I’m fine,” she said, gently pushing his hands away. “But I just got off the phone. Mina’s coming.”

“Mina’s coming?” Kyungsoo frowned. “What do you mean she’s coming?”

“Here. I mean she’s coming here. To town.” Dana ran a hand through her hair, worried. “She’s coming to visit me.”

The wolves and mates in the room exchanged troubled glances. Everyone else seemed to understand why this was such a big deal, but you were at an utter loss. So, you asked the first question that came to your mind, hoping to get a few answers.

“Who the hell is Mina?”

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #sehun x reader #oh sehun #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo series #Midnight Hours #untamed wolf universe

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 164

Chapter Summary -Tom and Danielle begin to plan their wedding, the only issue is, they are struggling at even deciding the location.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Tom sighed as he looked at the coffee mug in front of him. “So, trouble in paradise?” He looked up at Ben, who sat beside him with his own cup of tea in his hand.

“No, we just were getting bothered by arrangements so we said we’d take an hour or two away from everything to just take a step back before an actual argument took place.”

“Good plan. So, what was the issue?”

“Location.”

“Yeah, Sophie and I spent a while talking about it. I mean, you know how it is with the Isle of Wight, it’s a fucking island, so there was the transport costs, and it’s a holiday resort and it’s expensive to live in, so that doesn’t help but it means something to Sophie’s family and is far easier to police than London, so we went with it in the end. Where are the different options?”

“I want Oxford, it’s where I grew up, maybe even Suffolk, just not London, too open.”

“And Danielle wants?”

“Ireland.”

“Oh, there’s not much room for compromise when there are two different countries involved,” Ben commented.

“It’s impractical. Most everybody that will be at the wedding will have to travel there for it from here, only a few of her family would not have to, and even at that, some of her family are in the States so they will have to travel also, how is that fair?”

“What’s her reasoning for it?”

“What?”

“Why is she pushing for Ireland?” Ben queried.

“I am not even sure.”

“Why, did she just say the country in general, or is it that she is talking about some random area outside of where she is from.”

“No, I think she is talking about Connemara. It just makes so little sense.”

“Well, not exactly. Kuala Lumpur would make little sense, her hometown in her home country at least makes sense.” Ben pointed out. “She did say that for her cousin’s wedding, that the tradition is to have it in the bride’s hometown, has that something to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” Tom recalled the conversation at the awards ceremony with Sophie and Ben a few months previous.

“Well, how about you ask her. If this cannot even get past location, how are you supposed to go any further? This is sort of an integral part of it all.”

“It just all seems so much stress and bother.”

“Most of it is and you wonder what’s the bloody point to it also, but that is all part and parcel of it. At the end of the day, it is worth it if you are both happy and I know, for all of the madness that this entails, you do actually want to marry Danielle.”

Tom nodded. He wanted that, he did not want the madness that it would entail and if he and Danielle could not agree on even something as simple as location, then he worried for it all. “I need to talk to her.”

“Yes.” Ben encouraged.

Tom took out his phone and dialled Danielle’s number.

“Hello? Tom?”

It was clear her phone was not to her ear and that he was on loudspeaker. “Yes, I thought….are you not at home?”

“No, I am in the car, pulled in, obviously. I needed to do some stuff. I thought we were going to take an hour or so to settle?”

“I know, I just...Elle, can I ask, why is it so important to you that it is in Ireland. I just want to know.”

“I...we said we’d talk later.”

“Elle?”

“I just thought it would be nicer, my grandparents got married there, my dad was christened in that church, then he and Mam got married there, I was christened there. According to the parish records, the Hughes’s have been there since pre-famine times. They have my great great grandfather’s signature in the records at that church and I know it’s small and dated, but it’s thirteenth century and I just...I think that’s nicer. I know it’s a different country and I know it’s a pain in the ass area to get to in another country but it matters to me.” There was no response to her statement. “Tom?”

“I’m here...I never realised.”

“We’ll talk later. I just need to get this done, I will talk to you soon, bye.”

“Bye.” The phone line went dead and Tom looked at his phone for a minute before looking at Ben, who was looking at him expectantly. “So…” He knew that with him being right next to him, Ben heard all of what Danielle had said.

“Seems a logical reason to want it there, if I’m honest. It matters to her. Now you need to ready your reason for having it here.”

“I don’t really have one, other than convenience.” He confessed before going silent for a moment. “Convenience does not trump tradition and historical sentiment, does it?”

“How long has it been since that famine, a hundred and fifty or so years, and Danielle can trace her family using that exact church in that time, that’s noteworthy, and it clearly means a lot to...wait, that’s another thing.”

“What?” Tom asked, worried at the look on Ben’s face. “What’s another thing?”

“Danielle’s a Catholic.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re not a Catholic.”

“No.”

“How does that work? Can you get married in a Catholic church if you’re not?”

“I have no idea.” In truth, Tom had not even thought of such issues. Neither he nor Danielle were in any way religious and their different faiths had never been much of a discussion as a result, but he had to wonder how it would work. “I need to check that.”

“You do.” Ben urged.

*

Tom parked his car into the drive and got out, going to the boot to take out the few bits of shopping he had gotten on his way back from Bens. He stood looking at Danielle’s car for a moment, knowing that something was peculiar about it but uncertain what the difference was. It was only when he realised the tyres were darker than before did he realise that she had gotten them changed. He huffed slightly in amusement, he had gone rushing to a friend to talk while Danielle did something practical and sensible.

Bringing in the shopping, he noted the quiet in the house. Both dogs greeted him as he placed the groceries on the counter before putting them away. After a few minutes, he wondered where Danielle was as her car keys and keys to the house were in their usual spots, meaning she was somewhere within it and with the boiler not making noise, it was obvious that she was not in the shower. He walked up the stairs and heard the telltale whirring of her fax machine. He knocked on their office door, which was slightly ajar and waited. A moment later, Danielle opened it and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

“You got your tyres done?”

“Yeah, they were bothering me recently, getting a tad thin so I said I would grab four more.”

“How much?”

“Six, I got them from a place on the edge of the city, for cheaper than here, one place quoted me a thousand.”

“Jesus.” He looked at the machine. “Fun?”

“I wish, the paperwork for the Paramount job.”

“When’s that?”

“Two weeks in November. I will have to go to Croatia for it.”

“That’s fun.”

“Is it? What is Croatia even like at that time of year? I also need to do a week in Budapest. The joys of being the European Coordinator.”

“You love it really.”

“I love the paycheck and the doors it will open for me.”

“Brutal honesty.”

“So, what did you get up to?” Danielle asked curiously, not wanting to focus too much on work.

“I spoke with Ben.”

“And how is he?”

“Good. He was asking for you.”

“Bless him.” She smiled as she looked for a paperclip to keep certain pages together.

“He actually mentioned something to me that I never even thought of.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The fact we’re not the same religion.” Danielle paused and looked at him. “And how that will affect us.”

“Well, we’re not exactly utterly devout to our two branches of Christianity.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “But say we do this in that church you were talking about, how does that work, how can we get married there if I am not a Catholic?”

“Well, we could always convert you but that failing, they are not overly bothered.”

“Really?”

“You know, for all the wrongs that the Catholic Church has and there are plenty, it is not as backward as you all think over here. I mean, I have seen Protestant schools that demand a letter from the local reverend proving kids go to service at least every second week, Roger in work asked to use the fax there to send on his paperwork when getting his daughter into their local school. In Ireland, the schools may have a Catholic priest on a school board, but if you don’t even get Christened, you are fine to get into the school usually. The church isn’t as it was, it will marry Catholics and Protestants, as long as you fulfil what is required of you in their eyes.”

“Me?”

“No, plural ‘you’. It’s just they go through the ceremony and you have to do a stupid course on the meaning of marriage and all that other bollix no one pays heed to. It’s a ‘tick the box’ exercise really.”

“You clearly hold it all in such high regard.” Tom joked.

“Oh, yeah, clearly.” Danielle scoffed in return. “It’s a tad hypocritical of a man that will never be allowed marry giving marriage advice. I don’t think its something they can give practical experience of. I know what it will take to be married to you, patience, understanding,” She leant in close to him. “And nice underwear.” She added in a whisper, causing Tom to chuckle and lick his teeth.

“You’re not wrong.” He pulled her to him. “I was thinking.”

“Oh dear, those words usually lead to something terrifying. What, dear Thomas, were you thinking?”

Tom scoffed at her referencing his full name. “I wanted Britain for convenience, but all things considered, I think Ireland is the better place for the wedding.” She said nothing in return. “It matters so much to you, I can see now why and as long as at the end of it, I get to call you my wife, I don’t care if we have to travel for it. I only care about us being married.”

Danielle bit her lips together and inhaled deeply. “I…I don’t want this to cause arguments. I don’t want something fancy, I don’t need twelve thousand pound dresses and chandeliers, but that...that is something I would love, so much. It’s such a big part of our family tradition, so much so that my Mam forewent the usual tradition of her parish for Dad’s. All of my family, all of our records are there and it means a lot to me. I...thank you.”

“Just promise me if I give in to this request, you won’t turn into Bridezilla.”

Danielle snorted at his comment, knowing him to be joking. “I promise I’ll try not to. But if someone does not RSVP on the right date, or wears pink…” She laughed playfully.

“Oh dear, she’s started.” Tom laughed in response.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 164 #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston #wolfpawn