#then I have to scroll back through EACH. MONTH. to my year of birth!!!!

[inkedmoth]

I AM OGING TO GNAW MY LEG OFF WITH THIS JOB

[f1bordeaux]

The String That Binds Us. (Prologue) | ln4, cl16

You fell in love with this sport all because of him. It would be selfish not to thank that boy for his help in getting you here today, even if you both ended on rocky terms. However, after finding yourself in the same paddock as your childhood best friend, your mentor, your first true love, and the boy who left you for the bigger picture, you realize that he wants nothing to do with you. So, as fate has it, perhaps you'll end up in the arms of someone else. Or maybe, just maybe, that string that has been tied to the two of you together since birth will pull you back into eachothers lives. Warnings: none Pairings: Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader Word Count: 769 Poetry style | Story style A/n: I have returned with yet another series >:) this has been rolling around in my mind and yes its a super simple, done before, run down prompt but I promise to make it worth wild! I feel as though my writing has improved since my last series(which i'm gonna go rewrite) so please enjoy! Ill update as quickly as possible. This is just the prologue so look out for chapter 1 soon, and let me know if you all would be interested in me posting this on Wattpad for easier reading! Much love! Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

prologue; y/n.

There was simply no way, not in this world with all of its coincidences and twists of fate, that things did not happen for a reason. From the minute you’re born until the day you die, there is a reason for everything. An invisible string runs through each and every one of your actions, no matter how little or grand they may be. You were sure of it. There were so many instances you could think of. When you failed that math test and got put back into a different class-the one where you met your first boyfriend who you no longer speak of. When you visited the beach one Summer all the way across the ocean in the United States, and met a girl from your hometown who ended up becoming your life long friend you attended university with. And perhaps the most vital one, when you grew up next door to a boy, only a year older than you, who possessed a love for cars and all things involving them. He would sculpt your life into one of his own, beginning from only the age of three. The two of you would form a shared love, a shared passion, for one sport. However, you found more interest in the mechanical side of things while he preferred to take the wheel. Still, you often wonder how your life would have played out, what you would have done, where you would have gone, who you would have become without him. What would have happened to you if he didn’t live next door? You could never even picture it. Especially now, fresh from university with a degree in automotive engineering hanging on your wall. But the craziest connection of them all? Getting an offer to work in the same sport as your neighbor-no, your childhood best friend. You just couldn’t believe it.

“Y/n you’re joking.” Sophia said on the afternoon the offer popped up in your inbox. She sat on the beanbag chair you used to have in your dorm. You were laying down in bed, lazily scrolling through Twitter before deciding to check your inbox. Now, you were sitting up straight, hand cupping your mouth as you read the email. “Let me see!”

You spun the laptop around, watching her eyes dart across the screen. “It’s not real, there is no way.”

But it was. The email would turn into a phone call, the phone call would turn into a headquarters visit, the visit would turn into a contract. Soon, only a few months after your January graduation, you would be in the Formula 1 paddock, clad in red, tending to the Ferrari livery.

You called Lando only a few weeks before the season started. The two of you hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Hello?”

“Lando, hey.” You scratched the back of your neck. How would he take it? Would he even care at all? Why were you calling with how things ended between the two of you?

There was a second of silence, although it felt like minutes. “Y/n, it’s been a minute. I heard you graduated. Congrats.”

“Oh? Who told you?”

“Mom. You know she's still best friends with yours.”

“Right,” You sighed. He didn’t like your Instagram post that compiled all your grad-photos. Of course he’d only heard it involuntarily. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He responded. “Just preparing for the season, you know?”

“That's actually what I was calling about,” Your heart was pounding. You were so excited to tell him, to let him know that not only did he make it into his dream field, but so did you. “I got a job.”

“Cool. Where at?”

“Ferrari.”

The silence that hung over the line only a little while ago returned. “Like at a shop somewhere in the UK?”

Not exactly the celebration you were hoping for. “No, uh, in F1. I’ll be in the paddock working on either Leclerc’s or Sainz’s car.”

“Oh.” He sniffled. “How’d you manage a job like that straight out of uni?”

“I applied. Didn’t think I would get it but here we are.”

“Well I guess I’ll see you around then.”

And that was it, your big call, your big announcement, all concluded with a ‘see you around’ like it was a conversation to be had in a school yard. You were hurt, your childhood best friend chalking your achievements up to something not worth being impressed about, but you didn’t have time to think about it. You had a job to do and damnit, you were sure you’d be doing it the best.

[endlessly-searching-for-you]

There's Always Another Summer, bonus chapter 2 1/2: The Recruit

I thought I was done with my Endless Summer sequel, well it turns out I lied and I’m adding bonus halftime chapters :D

Back to beginning

« Chapter 2  / Chapter 3 »

Four months earlier 

“I should have known that job was cursed the moment I got the file,” Zahra muttered to herself, lighting her next cigarette before the previous one even had a chance to cool off. The thick smoke surrounded her like armor. Her back pressed to the wall behind the arcade, legs stretched out.

She flicked the lighter and stared at the flame. Some insects buzzed nearby, drawn by the light. Just like her, except someone dangled a puzzle in front of her—and she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

It happened last spring. She had just clicked “Submit” on her Hartfeld application and was already regretting it. Not because she thought she’d be rejected—please. But because the process was insultingly normal. No secret handshake, no cryptographic problem to solve—just deadlines, boring forms, and a polite automated email saying, “Thank you for your interest in Hartfeld University. We will review your application shortly.”  She rolled her eyes so hard she could see the back of her head.

So, when someone with a Hartfeld email address sent her an email with a cryptic subject “TIER IV RECON PHASE 01” and a single file attached, she didn’t think it was a scam. She thought: finally.

And then, when she opened the file, she let out a snort. Just a database dump, with tables like ‘students,’ ‘admissions,’ ‘classes,’ and ‘grades.’ She scrolled through the records half-annoyed, half-disappointed. What was the task? Find an average GPA from last year? Get the list of people who failed calculus twice? It was so below her level it felt like an insult.

She clicked back to the email to double-check. But besides the file, it was completely empty.

Now that was interesting.

She went back to the student list. It wasn’t big, no more than 1500 records. Too low to be a production dump. And they wouldn’t be that stupid, anyway. Privacy protection and all—not that she couldn’t access the real Hartfeld database within an hour, if she wanted to.

And then it caught her eye—the file size was too large for the number of records. Not much, but enough to raise her eyebrows.

She quickly wrote a script to compare the original with a fresh export she made herself, and there it was: random bytes stuck at the end of file. Mostly trash, but not all. Inside the noise, there was a message:

One of them is not supposed to be there.

Jackpot, she grinned.

A few hours later, she was elbows deep in the darknet mirrors of government databases, with a half-empty energy drink and a cold bowl of instant ramen on her desk. The search wasn’t that hard. There was only one student with a future acceptance date and grades for courses that hadn’t even started yet. 

Whoever added the record hadn’t even tried to hide it. First name only, “42” where the last name should be, and a birthdate of January 1st. Cute, she thought. Real subtle.

But there was a Social Security number. And unlike the rest of the generated data, this number was real.

They— she , Zahra corrected herself, checking the results—had three birth records, each filled in a different state. It could have been a bureaucratic glitch or a forgery.

But then she found two death certificates. Same number, same name, exact same date—

On a summer day, three years in the future.

She sat back and blinked twice as if hoping that was a prank. But the date didn’t change. She shrugged, clicked back to the original email, and attached the scans to the reply just to see what happened.

Two weeks later, she got a fancy admission letter from Hartfeld. And a second, smaller envelope tucked behind it. Inside was just a photo. No explanations. Just a few words scribbled on the back: “ Keep an eye on her.”

“Challenge accepted,” she murmured to herself, cracking her knuckles.

The Hartfeld database was in front of her like an opened book. And sure enough, there she was—the same ID as in the dump. Zahra copied the string, pulled up her own, and switched to the dorm assignments table. A few keystrokes. One command, and they’re roommates now.

Then she leaned back and smiled.

Let’s see who you are.

« Chapter 2  / Chapter 3 »

[h3roisms]

( mason gooding . cis man . he/him ) — blasting slow dancing in the dark by joji down main street we’ve spotted GRIFFIN HAWKHAUSER sporting their favorite pair of garnet earrings. the twenty-nine year old PHOENIX-AVIAN SHIFTER HYBRID who’s been in town for six months often can be seen checking out his own reflection in every window he passes by , schmoozing customers with a flirtatious grin and a lilting purr into buying ' just one more drink ' to max out his tips that night , casually scrolling some form of social media at all times, or working as a BARTENDER at ENVY. people say they display charismatic and deceitful traits, but we rather trust their vibes: brilliant red feathers that glitter with iridescence under the twilight sun, a camera-ready smile that masks something dark and dangerous beneath a veneer of arrogant confidence, russian roulette with a fully loaded gun, glowing amber eyes peering at you through the darkness of an abyss. also, we’ve heard they love A FRESH PACK OF NEWPORTS ! aren’t they fascinating ?

soldiers aren’t born – 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚, fashioned from 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 with 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉.

I . 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗘𝗥 ...

name — griffin "griff " hawkhauser ( formerly , kenneth taylor ) // age — twenty-nine // date of birth — april 20 . // astrological — taurus sun , scorpio moon , virgo rising // height — five foot ten inches // language & dialect — american english , california / west coast accent // body modications — lobe piercings on both ears , belly button piercing , multiple tattoos over chest and arms // biological parents — alexander taylor (incarcerated) & amelia aronson (alive ; no contact) // occupation — former federal special ops agent, bartender at envy // build — lean and built, visible muscle definition, even distribution with thicker shoulders and back muscles

II . 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ...

mama's boy - dominic fike // slow dancing in the dark - joji // sugar - brockhampton // icon - jaden // lose - travis scott // rip 2 my youth - the neighbourhood // brand new person , same old mistakes - tame impala

II . 𝗕𝗜𝗢 ... TRIGGER WARNING FOR : FOSTER CARE SYSTEM , SMOKING , DEATH MENTIONS , DRUG MENTIONS.

the thing they don’t tell you about foster care is that no one gives a fuck about you; they don’t care whether you can eat, shit, or piss in peace , whether you’re gonna have a clean blanket to sleep with , or if you od in a ditch like every other sad fuck that ends up in the system. you’re just another number – and the freedom you wanted so damn bad as a kid started to really kick you in the ass. the world was a cruel fuckin’ bitch – and you learned that lesson quick.

the kind were subjugated , the disadvantaged exploited further and further , and those who harbored ill will in their heart always came out the victor. you watched good people get chewed up and spat , left with nothing more than hollow convictions and a laundry list of regrets.

you kept your head down after the first three placements flopped. they called you all sorts of things ; problem child was the nicest one , but you started getting used to the other ones , too. ungrateful brat , a delinquent with no future , a bad influence on the other kids. 

you smoke a joint once and you’re suddenly the antichrist. but the motherfucker who’s tooth you knocked out deserved it. he stole your fuckin’ hoodie – you saved up for months for that damn thing.

another thing you learn is that the systems feed each other ; it was a self-cannibalizing – and it exploited you just like it did the rest. You were just another kid from the wrong side of the tracks , one who looked to the skies for relief – and you graduated high-school with big dreams and not a damn lick of the knowledge you needed to achieve ‘em. so you do the only thing you can. you work dead end jobs – one after another – and the world feels so fuckin’ bleak you sometimes wondered if it’d be easier to just become another cog in the machine.

but , hey , you never gave in that easy ; you disillusioned yourself with the drugs , the booze , the cigarettes. you looked in the mirror and the motherfucker lookin’ back at you looked more and more like a stranger every damn day. you are still good , you told yourself , you can be good.

except you’re not ; you’re rotten to the very core , just like your damn daddy. you were smoking a cigarette at 3 am after pulling your fourth graveyard shift in a row when you saw some shady shit go down. you just couldn’t keep your fuckin’ head down – fatal flaw , achilles heel , ‘cause , really , you want to be good – and you walked in on some shit you shouldn’t have. you witnessed a murder – and not just any murder , some gang-related bullshit that went right over your goddamn head.

next thing you knew , you were bargaining for your life – you live , you owe them a debt. you learned to smooth talk after years in the system. smile pretty , bat your lashes , purr just the tiniest bit … be the pretty boy with the nice smile and they’ll turn a blind eye … they always do. and it somehow fuckin’ worked – ‘cause you’re a damn miracle worker – but they give you a catch : you’re the newest bitch to the underground crime circle and you’re gonna kill some people.

the stint didn’t last long , thank christ ; the feds busted ‘em and you panicked that you were facing jailtime – except lady luck decided to kiss your ass some more. they say they could use someone with the quick thinking and reflexes you showed the night of the raid. ( you were trying to save your own skin so you defected – told the boots where to go and where to find the big boss ) and they gave you a job.

next thing you knew , you signed your life over to become a weapon.

—

they broke you. 

piece by piece , atom by atom – they tore you apart and built their perfect toy soldier from what little remained of your sorry sack of bones. 

they stripped you of your name – kenneth taylor was dead. the identity of griffin hawkhauser was created from thin air and bestowed upon you like a gift even though it would soon become a curse , your personal cross to bear.

they sent you into missions that only the most deranged of adrenaline junkies would ever dare to take on – and you seemed to fit that bill. your life , thus far , had been one fuck-up after the next. now , at least , you lived life on the edge. you let yourself fight the good fight. you stormed buildings with blazing guns , gone undercover , jet-setred around the world to work alongside foreign dignitaries with wire taps and spy gear out the wazoo. you felt like you were finally becoming something – and with it came a false sense of bravado.

an invincible man is what you became ; the high of griffin hawkhauser brought with it a nurtured ego , a curated sense of grandeur that allowed your sly smiles to ooze with sex appeal and confidence despite the twisting maelstrom of chaos that dwelled just beneath the surface. you worked people like tools with a smile on your face – because you , too , were nothing but a tool to the government. you became their weapon – and weapons didn’t weep.

you saw more money than you could have ever imagined ; a ludicrous amount of zeroes inflated your head , made you see stars and revel in the luxury for the first time in your sad , pathetic life. your disillusionment only festered and soon , you grew reckless. they took hold and planted their seeds – and soon , as the roots took deep within , you succumbed to the machine you’ve been fighting with for all these years.

the first time you died , you made peace with it ; you already knew that the bird that soared in your heart wouldn’t be able to save you as you laid in a pool of your own blood , every wheezing breath full of agony. your lungs were punctured and you had more bullet-holes than brains left. you thought to yourself – well , it was a good run , but i guess it’s time to finally say goodbye.

and then the world was on fire.

you were reborn in your own ashes and the hawk within you screeched to life. the government learned two things that night : one , you were not a human being , but something far more mystifying , and two , you were unkillable.

oh , how joyous a night it was for them – and the marker of your second death , and then your third , fourth , fifth … you stopped counting after death two-hundred and forty-eight. they learned you were unkillable and sent you on one suicide mission after the other , knowing you were indispensable. 

you were bleeding out for the five hundred and twenty-first time when you thought to yourself – damn , you’re back in that fucking cage again.

—

you ran away again.

this time , you were going to be free.

you fuckin’ meant it this time.

—

portum opened its arms to you and you found yourself trembling. a world in which you were not a weapon nor a cog in the goddamn machine had felt like a pipe dream after all the years – but now , it felt like a reality.

you dug through your mind and pulled out the part of you that you had relied on so heavily to get you through it all. you wore your cunning smile and erased the past from existence. here , you are griffin hawkhauser , a man that bartends by night and soars the skied by day. here , you will be free – and no one , not a damn thing , will tether you again. you wear your false bravado and sink deep into its familiar embrace.

soon , you hope , you’ll begin to feel the confidence in earnest. soon , you will become the man you should have always been. 

[foxblood]

The Threads of Memory: IX The Surgeon's Call

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

Trigger Warnings - Graphic depictions of birth and pregnancy - Miscarriage and pregnancy loss - Fetal deformity and fetal death - References to self surgery and SA

Between the warm crackling of the fire and the rustle of yellowed paper spread on the coffee table, Velim forgot the chill sense of something watching them through the windows even though it was well past midnight.  They unfolded an unsent letter, addressed to Morena in quick slanting handwriting that ran together, same as all the others.  The paper revealed its contents with a dry crinkle.

Morena, my heart,

Each morning without you beside me is colder than the last.  I count the days until our child is born, and with each gray sunrise I hope they never find themself on these marshes.  At times, I am closer to the Hells here in the cold than I was when we stood at the lip of Mount Dis and felt the heat of the lava upon our skin.  Do you remember how it took a year for my eyebrows to grow back?  I drew them on with charcoal for six months, and you were ever-patient with me even though I looked a fool in my vanity.

With every bleak sunset over the moors, I wish I could have taken you with me.  Gods know being alone and laden with child is no easy task.  May your mother forgive me for leaving you so, wherever her soul has landed.  I’ll answer to her someday, I’m certain.  I will return as soon as I can, but I hope you’re being well cared for.  When winter recedes, I’ll send all these letters with a courier.  I hope you don’t mind a flood of words.  I write you every day because I think of you every day.  The thought of building our family is the single bright spot I have in this vast dark place.  With luck, I will return to you by spring, abashed with these letters gathered in my arms.  

In the evenings, I take comfort in the thought of you.  The peace that you are to me, in the warmth of your body and…

Velim folded the letter and held it out to Gale.  “Written just before you were born, more smut.  Written in Uktar or Nightall.”

Gale unfolded it, and Velim watched his face for the telltale flush as he scanned his father’s handwriting.  He cleared his throat.  “Yes, a comfort to know they were very much in love.”

Gale set it on the pile closest to the far corner of the coffee table, a neat stack rising based on the year each was written.  The first pile already contained twenty five letters, sprawling scrolls and hastily written notes, more than half pornographic in their descriptions of what Gale’s father would like to do to Morena or vice versa.

Velim plucked another note off the pile, this one less delicate and written on coarse seed paper with a graphite stick.  It had no date, no indication of when it was written, I miss you scrawled in thick black lines.  They set it at the end of the table.  Gale reached across Velim and picked up another letter for himself, this one four pages of parchment folded together.  Velim leaned against his shoulder to read alongside him.  Gale shifted his weight into them and tilted the letter toward them.

Dearest Morena,

Mother passed today.  She babbled nonsense until the very moment of her death, begging me not to forget her son.  I think she believed I was my father, but he never came to her deathbed.  He is still up in his room.  He keeps demanding to know where his wife is, and the only person who seems to calm him is Alexandra.  He believes she is our mother, and keeps asking why she’s lightened her hair.

The situation is dire here.  I celebrated Gale’s birthday with Alexandra not two days ago.  Thank you for sending me those letters, they were a balm to me this summer.  I understand why you write me no longer.  Alexandra wishes to meet you, but I couldn’t bear to subject my son to this place.  Alexandra asks me every day when I intend to move you in with us, how long I intend to let you suffer as a single mother in Waterdeep.  I do not tell her I intend to return, I fear that leaving her alone here may break her.  Alexandra never wanted the title of Mistress, she never sought a spouse for that very reason.  Not that I would encourage her to, at her age, but we are known for marrying young.

A large swath of the text was smudged and unreadable, marred by some unknown substance.  Gale carefully pulled the parchment apart, but only fragments of text could be picked out of the red-brown staining.

… place unravels the mind… precarious as though my very proximity… corrupting influence…  

… grows madder by the day.  Believes me to be his brother… 60 years dead…. return him to the womb, and he will waste away…

… I cannot leave Alexandra… terrified that… when my father speaks to me like I am his brother, he asks if I’m forgetting things again…

Morena… devours us… death is listed madness, madness, mad… key fall into your hands… your name on th…

…

Oliver Devon

Gale’s lips pressed into a thin line.  Velim plucked one of the pages from his hand and smelled the stains, the sharpness of iron without the animal stench of meat.

“Not blood,” they said, replacing it in order.

“Small comfort,” Gale set the pages on the pile near the edge of the table, “things seem to have gone wrong within months.”

“I wonder if his father was the one tearing pages out of books,” Velim suggested, remembering the bestiary.

“What do you mean?” Gale asked.

Velim patted his shoulder and hopped up from the couch, the speed of their movement rustling the papers spread on the table.  “I’ll show you.”

They disappeared behind a bookshelf, their passage silent except for the creaking of the bedroom door.  He flipped through the stained letter again and held each page up to the firelight, trying to see the imprint of the pen through the smudged ink.  He wondered if the black ink his father wrote in was iron-based -- spilled water might make it spread into the red-brown stain.  He sniffed it himself, and it smelled of coins to him.

The door creaked again, and Velim swept onto the couch with the bestiary in hand.  They filled the empty space beside him, and Gale’s body ached with relief.  He leaned over their shoulder as they flipped to the ripped pages, resisting the urge to inhale the scent lingering on their hair -- the faint sickly-sweet of carbolic underlying the sharpness of the herbal oils that clung to their clothes and skin.  They tapped their claws on the first page of the guide to flumphs.

Gale passed his finger over the six ripped pages, his knuckle brushing the note marking their place in the book with a twinge of satisfaction that they kept it.  Velim flipped back to the beginning of the section, declaring “Creatures of the Underdark: Ilithid and Psionic Origin, of the Creatures that Feed on Mentality and Memory”.

Velim’s brow creased.  “Hand me that letter again.”

A faint wail of pain echoed through the empty spaces of the manor, and Velim dropped the letter and sped from the room before the paper fluttered to the floor.  Gale reached for the empty space where they had been, the bestiary dropped to the ground.  He put the book and the dropped letter on the table and followed them.

Velim stopped at the landing, looking down into the foyer from the top of the stairs.  The pregnant woman wailed in animal pain again, her knees buckling.  Another gush of blood soaked her skirts, pulling them tight around her swollen belly.  Shur reached out and caught her as the man with her almost dropped her weight.

“Shur,” Velim called, their voice clear and echoing in the wide space.

The woman screamed again, rattling the glass.  Shur looked up at them, his yellow eyes pleading in the dark.  The man followed his gaze and again nearly dropped the woman, fear turning his long features evil in the low light.  Before anxiety overtook them, Velim felt the warmth of Gale at their back and the surge of the orb as his heart began to race.  They slapped their hands down on the railing, and the noise snapped all in the room to attention.

“Gale, get my coat.  It’s on the back of the desk chair in my room,” Velim ran down the stairs and slung the woman’s arm over their shoulders, shifting her weight to rest on them and freeing Shur from the job, “Shur, get a bed ready in the servant’s quarters.  We’re not getting her up the stairs.  Clean bedding, clean towels.  Set a pot of water on the stove and get it heating.  As fast as you can.”

Shur sprinted down the hall ahead of them.  The man on the woman’s other side came to and shouldered more of her weight as they sped through the darkened corridors.  Her feet dragged, drops of blood trickling behind her.  Shur threw a clean blanket over a threadbare mattress and stepped aside for Velim and the man as they laid the woman down on her back.  Velim shoved a table from the wall closer to the bed, so they could turn around and reach what they needed.  The woman writhed and moaned.  Blood soaked through the blanket.  Shur stared.

“Towels, Shur!” Velim snapped, rolling their sleeves above their elbows.

Gale rushed into the room and handed Velim their coat, his newly free hands clutching his chest as though he could force the swelling of the orb back down.  They nodded at him and plunged their arm deep into the bag of holding sewn in the lining, drawing out their heavy doctor’s bag and surgical kit.  They dropped both on the table, unrolling the surgical tools and digging in the bag for a vial of clear liquid.

Shur returned with an armful of towels and set them on the table.  He stared at Velim, desperate for further direction, his face pale at the stench of blood and urine that crowded the room.

“Boil water,” they dismissed him to the kitchen with a flick of their hand, “Gale, go help him.  When it’s boiled for five minutes, cool it.”

“As you command, doctor.” Gale followed Shur into the kitchen with an easy nod, trying to hide the nausea twisting in his stomach.

Velim dug in their doctor’s bag for the bottle of high-proof alcohol and dumped it over their hands.  It stung the places where the cold had cracked the skin between their scales and they hissed, forcing themself to hold still until the pain abated.  They dried their hands on one of the towels, and realized the man had gone pale and still, staring at the surgical instruments laid out on the table.

“Easy,” Velim warned, and the man looked up, “lift her skirts, I need to take a look at her stomach.”

He did as he was asked with shaky hands, pulling the blood soaked fabric up to her chest.  In the low light, the pale skin of her belly marred with smudges of clotted blood looked like some rotten moon.  The woman pleaded wordlessly with him, trying to push the skirts back down.  Her abdomen seized with another contraction, and blood soaked into the blanket.

Velim rested their hand on her stomach. “I’ve got you, it won’t be long now,” they promised, their voice rough.  They turned to the man who came with her, “make yourself useful and hold her hand.  This is traumatic enough without you standing there and gawking.”

He closed his mouth and looked down, taking her hand into both of his and kissing the knuckles.  He stroked away the strands of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat.  Velim drew some of the clear liquid from the vial into a syringe and clenched it between their teeth.  They crawled onto the bed and pushed the woman’s knees apart.

“I’m checking how dilated you are,” they explained around the syringe, enunciating carefully while they probed her cervix with a finger.  They felt none.  Their hand came away bloody.

Her pulse raced, the veins in her inner thighs standing out.  Not losing too much blood, then, they thought.  Velim steadied her leg with their bloodied hand and plunged the needle into her vein, emptying the syringe.  They massaged the pinprick of blood that rose in its absence.  The woman’s eyes rolled back in her head.

“Ma’am, I need you with me,” Velim rested their hand on her stomach again and her bleary eyes rolled to them, “can you count to five?”

She nodded.

“Count to five with me.  On five, you push,” they nodded with her, “one, two, three, four, five.”

She groaned loudly as she bore down.  The man winced, his hand crushed in her iron grip.  The fetus shifted beneath Velim’s palm.  The woman panted.

“Again.  One, two, three --”

“-- Four, five!” the woman wailed the last number, counting along with Velim.  The fetus shifted another few inches.

“Great, keep going,” Velim encouraged, waiting to hear her count again before turning to the man, “how long has she been pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” the man winced as she crushed his hand again, “six months?  She hid it for a long time.  Dunno the father.”

“I could not care less about the father,” Velim hissed in annoyance, “when did she start bleeding?”

“Twenty minutes ‘fore we got here,” he mumbled, cowed, “just a little at first.”

They sighed in relief.  At least she had that going for her.  “You’re almost there.  One more good push.  One, two, three, four --”

She screamed with the effort, her face going purple-red as the fetus and afterbirth flooded out of her in a flush of blood.  The flow slowed.  Velim’s heart sank, cold dread washing over them at the sight of the fetus’ two tiny faces. They packed the woman with towels to sop up what trickle of blood remained and scooped up the unmoving fetus and viscera, turning their back to her to hide the sight as they laid it on the table.  

Shur returned with the pot of water, just warm, with Gale at his heels.  Shur opened his mouth to ask a question, but the answering glare from Velim silenced him and he left the pot on the table.  Gale glanced at the fetus and his tense expression deepened.  Velim flicked their eyes to the woman, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, pulling a chair up to the opposite side of the bed.  Velim cut and tied the umbilicus, then gently washed the fragile limbs and strange bloated body.  It seemed to slumber, all four bulging eyes on both its purple faces closed with swollen lids.  Both mouths hung half-open, one palate slightly cleft.  Fine blond fuzz covered its lolling head.

“Why isn’t it crying?” the woman asked, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Gale touched her shoulder and leaned in to murmur something soft to her, drawing her attention away.  Velim swaddled the dead fetus in a half-clean towel and motioned for the man to follow them into the kitchen.  Shur quickly replaced him at the woman’s side, and Gale assured her of Velim’s skill with soft and certain words.

In the light of the kitchen, the man’s face lost its frightening quality.  He became drawn, twisting his warm hat in his hands and looking away from the bundle in Velim’s arms.  He licked his dry lips.  “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

“It was never going to live,” Velim tipped the bundle towards him so he could see its two faces and his eyes went wide, “even without the early labor, this sort of deformity isn’t survivable.”

The man’s sad eyes brimmed with tears that spilled down his cheeks.  He wiped them away on his hat.  “What are we going to tell her?”

“We tell her the truth,” Velim said, “we let her hold her child for as long as she needs, and we let her cry.  Then you dispose of it, however you see fit.”

“The well,” the man breathed.

“The well?” Velim repeated.

He licked his lips again and reached for the bundle in Velim’s arms.  Velim handed it to him.  “A boy,” he murmured to it, “she would have named him Hyde.”

Velim stood there, blood drying beneath their claws.  They watched the man’s shoulders shake with silent sobs and felt they were intruding on a very personal grief.  They accepted that their question about the well would go unanswered.  In the other room, the woman whined hoarsely for her baby.

“I’ll take him to her.” The man swallowed his sobs to speak and turned to the door, marching slowly and unsteadily back to the woman’s bedside.

The wail of grief cut Velim through the door.  They scrubbed the dried blood out from beneath their claws at the sink and only startled a little when they felt Gale’s hand on their shoulder.

“I promise, I’ve told no one about you,” he said quietly, hand squeezing tighter on their shoulder.

Velim examined their claws, then plunged them back under the water and picked at a bit of dried blood.  “I believe you.”

“That poor woman, Gods,” he sighed, “how are you holding up?”

“The fetus has diprosopus, craniofacial duplication.  It was dead as soon as it was conceived,” Velim explained, rubbing the gaps between their scales until they felt raw, “the birth would have been worse, had she carried to term.  As it is, she’ll make a full recovery.”

Gale peeled them away from the sink as they dried their hands and held their shoulders the way he had in the warehouse.  Velim’s knees threatened to buckle, clutching the hand towel tightly.

“I’m relieved she’ll recover, but Velim --” 

Velim didn’t lean into him and cry until the dread weight on their mind dissipated into a throbbing headache.  They didn’t tell him about the relief they felt for the woman in the bed, that she wouldn’t have to raise a child alone, that it was better the thing was dead and her life remained her own.  Instead, they swallowed the lump in their throat and shrugged off his hands.  “I’m fine.  Do you know where Shur keeps the linens?  We ought to set her up with a clean bed and make up another bedroom.”

“For her brother, yes,” Gale’s forehead furrowed in concern, “I’ll go talk to Shur and see if we can summon a bit of hospitality for the night.”

“Did you happen to catch their names?” Velim asked, subtly flicking away a tear that beaded in the corner of their eye.

“No, but I’ll ask Shur when I find him,” Gale assured them, slipping out of the room and averting his eyes from the grief gathered at the bedside.  

The darkness of the halls pressed in around him and he held a hand against the wall to guide him through.  He stumbled on an uneven plank in the floor and it creaked.  He caught himself on the opposite wall and found the turn, breathing deeply when it finally dumped him out in a wider hallway lit by a single wall sconce.  He made a note to rig up some lighting on the servants’ passages, wondering why they’d been left in darkness in the first place.  He caught Shur at the door into the dining room, carrying a bundle of pillows in his arms.

“Gale,” Shur adjusted the down comforter slipping from his grip, “something the matter?”

“Shur, just the man I was hoping to see.  Can you direct me to the linens?  I had a thought to make up another bedroom for our guest,” Gale gathered the fold of the comforter and tucked it beneath a pillow in Shur’s arms, “I was also hoping to discuss a small matter with you, now that the chaos has resolved itself.”

Shur grimaced.  “‘Course, Gale, let me bring these down and I’ll show you.”

Gale followed him down and helped dress a fresh bed and move the woman from one to another.  She clutched the bundle in her arms the whole time, unwilling to relinquish it to her brother when he offered.  Shur hovered over her for a moment after she clambered into bed, pulling the down comforter up around her.  Her brother rested a hand on Shur’s shoulder and thanked him quietly.

“We’re setting up the bedroom for ye,” Shur explained softly, “Marla’ll be fine down here.  Doubt the doctor’s going to leave her on her own.”

“Thanks, Shur,” the brother pulled a chair close to Marla’s bed and sat back down, “‘M good here for a while.”

Shur nodded at him once with an affirmative grunt, and left him to his vigil.  Gale joined him once more in the claustrophobic hallways, both of them silent under the weight of the dark, and breathed a sigh of relief when they finally broke into the dimly-lit dining room and he followed Shur up the stairs.

“Shur,” Gale began, annoyance flaring around the hard space of the orb, “It was my understanding that you were to tell no one who was living here.”

Shur’s eyes flashed wide with fear.  “That’s true, ser,” he admitted.

“Why, then,” Gale closed the door of the linen closet behind them and the oil lamp mounted above the door flickered, “did you disobey the one rule we set for you?  Do you understand what you’ve done?  The kind of danger you’ve placed Velim in?”

Shur shrunk from Gale as his voice rose, despite being a full head taller than the wizard.  The tales of scorned weavemasters played in his head.  “Please, Mr. Dekarios, I like my guts on the inside where they belong.  I meant no harm, I swear it.”

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a breath through his teeth.  “I don’t intend to harm you, I just believe you’ve been misinformed regarding the stakes of our misadventure in Waterdeep.  While I’m sure Marla and…”

“Kenneth,” Shur filled in.

“Kenneth,” Gale repeated, “I’m sure they mean well.  Velim is not to be disturbed.  I was very clear on that point in our correspondence, as was my mother.  This kind of stress is terrible for their health.  Any further exposure could be dangerous; and while I’m quite sure you’ve never encountered another draconic sorcerer, I assure you that Velim is a cut above the rest --” he rubbed his chest where the orb seemed to swell, “suffice to say that exposure poses a great danger to them.  I’d ask that you stress this to Kenneth and Marla when you see them off.”

“I will,” Shur pulled a set of linens off the shelf, “I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Master Deakrios.”

“Oh, enough with that,” Gale grabbed a clean robe from a shelf for Marla, “come on, we’ll get the room set up and you can apologize to Velim yourself.”

“Is it really that bad?” Shur asked once the bed was made.

“Yes, it is,” Gale leaned on the bed post, his anger abating into cold exhaustion.

Marla snored softly in the bed, the bundle cradled against her chest.  Her hair stuck to her forehead in clumps and her face bore the purple pinpricks of burst capillaries.  Velim studied the stains in the straw mattress, a pile of soiled linens at their feet.  The room still stunk of blood and urine.  Kenneth returned from the kitchen with two cups of tea and handed one to Velim.  

They cupped it in their hands, cold and dry from the scrubbing.  “Can I ask what brought you here?” 

Kenneth dropped into the chair at Marla’s bedside, and Velim pulled a second one beside him.  The weight of the hour finally settled on the both of them, and Kenneth waited some time to speak.  “Pregnancy’s been hard on her.  Since our pop left, Shur’s been keeping an eye on us.  Said he knew a doctor, just in case, but we couldn’t tell anyone ‘bout it,” Kenneth nodded at Velim, “I see why.”

Velim swiped the back of their hand over the scales at their jawline.  “No doctor in town?”

“Not for a year,” Kenneth sipped his tea, letting the bitterness warm him, “surgery’s still there -- all the notes inside.  I’ve got the key, if you ever had the thought to take up residence.  Pop’s the mayor.  Was the mayor, got keys for lots of the abandoned buildings.”

Velim shook their head, trying to dislodge the feeling of bugs crawling along the inside of their skull.  “Afraid I’m not that kind of doctor.”

“Handled this well enough,” he gestured to his sister, “we’d get used to you, y’know?  We’ve had stranger folks in residence.”

“What are you going to do with the fetus?  The ground’s frozen,” their mind slid over the vacant surgery, even though they wanted to ask questions, “you mentioned a well?”

“There’s an old well in a grove near the town.  You got a stillbirth or miscarriage, you send it down the well and it won’t happen again.  If you got a sick kid, you tie the branches of the trees together with their old clothes and they get better,” Kenneth leaned forward and pulled the towel away from the fetus’ two faces, “you ever seen anything like that?”

“In livestock, sometimes.  Never in a human before.” Velim’s eyes wandered to the door as Shur and Gale entered again.  Shur approached them looking shaken, and Velim wondered what Gale said to him.

Shur cleared his throat.  “Made up a bedroom for you, Ken,” he gestured to the door, “oughta get some rest, if you’re going back in the morning.”

Kenneth looked to Velim, and they rolled their shoulders with a sigh.  “She’s fine to go when she wakes up.  The birth itself went smoothly, I’ll get her some medication for the ride home and after.”

“I don’t want to leave her alone,” Kenneth protested.

“I won’t,” Velim said quickly, “I won’t leave her.  Get some rest.”

Kenneth reluctantly followed Shur to the bedroom, though Velim doubted he would sleep.  They drank the rest of their tea, now cold and bitter, and held the cup in their hands as an anchor.  Marla’s chest rose and fell slowly, prompting some grim satisfaction in their work.  Gale dropped into the vacant chair beside them.

“You should get some sleep, too,” Velim told him, their voice flat with exhaustion.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I can’t sleep with all the commotion.”

The gulf between them stretched, Velim singly focused on the smooth rise and fall of Marla’s chest.  

“I spoke with Shur.” Gale’s voice barely rose above a whisper, nearly drowned by the howling wind outside.

Their grip tightened on the cup.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I simply informed him of the danger,” Gale explained.

They cocked their head to one side, then leaned forward and tugged the blanket over Marla’s shoulder against the cold.  “I’d rather they had come.  She needs people around her right now.”

“Vel,” Gale said when they sat back, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Tears pricked at their eyes and they wiped them away.  “Yes, I’m fine.  Births aren’t my strong suit,” the memories rose like bile in their throat, “I was engaged to my master’s son when I turned 16.  They would have turned me out otherwise, I thought I would just drag the engagement out until my apprenticeship finished and break it off once I had the capital to go my own way.  He had no interest in me but he still --” their breath hitched, but the words came anyway, “when he discovered I was pregnant, he locked me in the basement so I couldn’t terminate it.  Kept me down there, and I had to wait until I was showing to…” their chest heaved as they swallowed a sob, “I cut it out.  Ortheon didn’t find me for a week afterwards,” their voice faltered, “I can’t leave her alone.  Not after something like that.”

Gale pulled his chair closer, closing the gulf between them and gathering them into his arms.  They leaned into his warmth, horrified by the intensity of their own sobbing muffled against his shoulder.  He stroked the nape of their neck with his thumb, his hand hot on their skin, his breath soft on their hair.

“I’ll stay with you,” Gale pressed a kiss to the top of their head and hoped they wouldn’t notice, “I’ll stay.”

[hoodoogurudad]

TEXAS BOY BECOMES A BUDDHIST

Many have asked, "How did you become a Buddhist?" It was a transition that took me many years, many teachers, and many lessons to find my spot. Here is my story.

In my late twenties, I was laid off and given a nice six months severance package. I decided to take my sailboard and go down to Padre Island, near Corpus Christi, Texas to be a beach bum for a month or two.

Back then, people could drive for miles on the island. So, when I got to the end of the road, I set my odometer to 0 and drove 8 miles up the island in the sand until I found a nice berm to set up my temporary housing.

The berm kept me from the harsh winds coming off the Gulf of Mexico while giving me a wonderful view of the Madre Lagoon. During the day I could wind-surf the lagoon or surf the Gulf if the waves were up.

My food was fresh seafood and groceries from Corpus Christi. I also would go to the library to get books to read. During my time, I started reading several books about Christianity. I was raised Christian in a Methodist Church in Amarillo, Texas. During my upbringing, I took a year-long Bible study program called the Bethel Bible Series, where we went through each book of the Bible to learn their origins, time, and overall intent. See, I had always had this feeling that something wasn't connecting for me since there were many people I had met over the years who were not Christian but great loving and caring people. Being raised in a small town in Texas, your friends were Christian and from your congregation. If you moved into a new town, you had everyone and their dog wanting you to come to their Men's Bible Study or Women's Keno Night to understand where you stood from the Christian faith.

My first book was about the Gnostic Christians, the earliest Christians from Egypt, and how they thought about Jesus and God. It had a completely different context than what I knew was true. It also talked about some lost books of the Bible. So, after reading about the Gnostics, I read about the Lost Books of the Bible.

The Lost Books of the Bible talked about the Dead Sea Scrolls and the more than 60 books found in 1926 and written by Apostolic Fathers. Some of these books were the earliest written Christian books that would have shaped the religion in a different light. This is why they were left out of the Bible and considered heresy to the Christian faith. One that was most interesting to me was the Book of Thomas. Thomas is my given birth name. It was compelling as it looked at Jesus as one of many sons of God and referenced core moral teachings for the world. This is also a concept that the Gnostics had believed. Many of these same teachings are in alignment with other faiths and religions.

I reflected on my lessons for days, weeks, and months. I almost felt like I was lied to. I thought about the works left from the Bible that could have given a more holistic faith and compassionate story that could have limited the holy wars fought for centuries.

I left the island confused but hopeful that I would find a space where I felt comfortable in my faith in humanity and the world.

Several years afterward, I heard about a Vietnamese monk named Thich Nhat Hahn, who wrote a book about the parallelism between Christianity and Buddhism, Living Buddha, Living Christ. His book's message was focused on peace, love, and compassion which are central to the teachings of Buddhism and Christianity, and how the people of both faiths should understand and be more tolerant of one another due to their core values. I see this a lot across other faiths too!

I decided to focus on my Buddhist self and adopt a new focus in my life. I still love my Christian upbringing and am grateful for my teachers and lessons but with knowledge and understanding of who I want to be, I am a Buddhist who focuses on my Bodhicitta daily through my meditations and how I engage with others in this world.

Today, I am a member of the Sakya Monastery. My family took Refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma (teachings), and the Sangha (community) to officially join the faith. I was given a Buddhist name that I keep sacred. I meditate each morning and look to keep a balanced life to enhance my Bodhicitta (Buddhist Way of Living).

As a father, I try to teach my sons to be great men, loving husbands, and compassionate but strict fathers. Both of my sons are great Buddhist men who live their faith daily.

[daceydeath]

Skz as the father when you go into labor

Pairing: OT8 x reader Word Count: 2.2k Genre: Fluff, Comedy. Warnings: Swearing, fainting, Stray Kids chaos (is that a warning though?)

A/N: This is just for fun, it was something that I thought up after telling a friend what I went through when I had my kid so please don't take it too seriously.

How Stray Kids would react as your partner when you go into labor with their child.

Chan:

When you and Chan got together, he had been very honest that he did want to be a father someday and you were grateful for that since it meant you weren't going to be wasting your time if this was where the relationship ended up.

After a year he proposed and told you he was ready to settle down now with you so you stopped taking your birth control and decided to see what happened.

It took 6 months for you to fall pregnant and when you found out he actually cried. So excited for the future of his little family.

Your waters broke just after you ate dinner and while Chan was on his way home rather than causing him any panic you simply sat on a towel and waited for him to come home

When he walks in drops his stuff and comes into the lounge he sees you scrolling your phone on a plastic chair.

"What's going on baby? Why aren't you relaxing on the couch?"

"My waters broke" you smile looking both scared and excited.

"Show time then" He grinned looking so excited he might burst.

He leaves you sitting there while he gets your hospital bag, the baby bag, his bag, your birth plan and your medical records before helping you to stand.

"I will need the towel too my love, otherwise I am going to destroy the car seat" you laugh when he pulls a face. "We are not even at the gross bit yet".

"I know and it's fine I'm ready for anything and so are you baby".

Lee Know:

You had met after bumping into each other, quite literally, at a JYP event, where you were working as a waitress. He had apologized profusely for causing the accident, that was not entirely his fault.

After the event was winding down he had asked a co-worker of yours if you were still there so he could check on you one last time before he left. The conversation went well and you ended up with his number and a date and time for your first date with him.

You were both totally happy with just having your cat children until you went to the doctors after feeling off and found out you were actually pregnant. He took it really well getting excited that he would be a father and that his child would have you as it's mother.

Your waters broke while he was filming a few hours out of Seoul so you had called his parents to take you to the hospital. You had phoned him after you had spoken to them and he instantly was yelling to Chan that it was happening and he needed to go right now.

You could hear the cheers from the others as he collected his stuff and you could also hear Chan telling him to breathe and think so he didn't have an accident.

By the time he got to you he was almost back to his normal self the only give away to you that he was at all nervous was the occasional fidgeting.

"Everything will be fine kitten this hospital has the best doctors".

Changbin:

You had met after being set up by some mutual friends who thought you would suit each other, and they had been right, Changbin was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and eventually a husband.

He had proposed to you at Christmas and you had begun planning your wedding when the slight spanner of a world tour came about, putting your nuptials on the back burner for the time being.

In a break in the tour they all came home for a few weeks and by the time he got back the the US to continue the tour you had discovered you were pregnant.

You told him over face time which turned into him yelling so much his members all broke into his room piled in to see what had happened only for you to repeat the news and start him up again.

He insisted that you let him call his parents and arrange with them for you to either stay with them or have his mum stay with you to take care of him while he was away. He also made sure Chan could make sure that your due dates wouldn't clash with any other schedules.

When you finally went into labor he had moved your mum and sister in with you both so that you would never be alone in case something happened. So when your waters finally broke all four of you were there which was a blessing you had his sister to help you get organized and in the car an his mum to help calm him down as he started yelling at the top of his voice.

"Yah! my baby is having my baby" he shouted.

"Calm down it's not instant" his mother scolded as he carried the bags to the car.

Hyunjin:

You and Hyunjin had sort of fallen together in a sort of oops I fell in love with you sort of way after becoming friends while he was filming a three part SKZ Talker.

It was a pretty whirlwind romance with him telling you in a matter of months he was going to marry you when the company gave them all a decent break and because of that you had also quickly fallen pregnant.

Hyunjin had taken the news well he was surprised but happy his parents were shocked but happy and Kkami tolerated you so everything was pretty much perfect.

Hyunjin proposed within a few days and told the members what was happening telling them that the next decent break you were getting married so that you could be the perfect family.

When your waters broke you were visiting him at the studio, it wasn't a gallons of fluid situation just a small popping sensation and slight trickle that made you gasp.

"What's wrong my love?" he frowned thinking you had hurt yourself.

"Baby, my waters just went" you smiled wide eyes and slightly surprised.

"What! Right now! You're having the baby now!" he shrieked before almost slumping against Felix who looked panicked and lowered him to the floor.

"Who ever bet against him fainting owes me money" you announced calling your future mother in law who was staying with you as Chan tried to rouse Hyunjin.

"Hi Mum... my waters went.... yes I told Hyunjin... no he's passed out...yes that is what I thought too" you sighed looking at your fiancé fondly.

Han:

After marrying Han he had told you that although he wanted kids he was in no rush so when it happened it happened, you were thrilled with this since it meant there was no pressure on either of you so you simply enjoyed married life.

So almost two years later when you watched the pregnancy test say thee weeks+ you were thrilled and so was Han holding you so tight and telling you how wonderful you would be as a mother.

Your pregnancy was not easy and you were sick constantly But Han was always there telling you how well you were doing even if you felt awful.

Your waters broke on the way back from the bathroom in the middle of the night and you fumbled around to turn on your bed side lamp.

"What's wrong baby?" he mumbled lifting his head slightly off the pillow.

"My waters have just broken" you whispered in confusion.

"Shit I'm on it" he yelped rolling out of bed and putting on one sock before coming around the bed to help you.

"One sock will help how?" you giggled as he quickly woke up properly.

"Umm don't really know to be honest" He flushed looking at the water on the floor and not moving.

"Can you get my hospital bag please? just checked it's zipped up before you grab it" you smiled knowing that he was trying his best.

"Of course....I think the car is out of fuel we will need to get some on the way" he blurted looking at you with big eyes as he picked up your bag not checking the zipper and sending things everywhere.

"Uhuh we are soooo ready for this" you laughed properly this time.

Felix:

You had met and married Felix within a year, he was the most caring, sweet and loving person you had ever met and you were as sure as he was that you were meant to be.

Felix had long proved to you that he was always going to put you and your wishes first when it came to the birth of your first child so when he went to Chan and the other members to tell them that you wanted to give birth in your home country with your mum by your side they were surprised but supportive.

Chan had arranged for Felix to go on a hiatus with the company to ensure a little privacy for you both and the company had agreed that when you returned they would not confirm or deny any rumors on your behalf unless you both wanted to make it public that you were now parents.

When your waters finally went you were both feeling so excited that there was little room for worry, Felix had everything ready to go and held your hand the whole way to the hospital while he drove. Your mum met you there and he was adamant with all the nurses and midwives that the pair of them were going to stay with you regardless of what happened.

Spends the whole time you check in and get comfortable in the hospital either holding you, kissing your forehead or holding your hand for support.

"You are doing amazing cupcake, but if you need anything you tell me and I will make it happen".

Seungmin:

Seugmin was your dream husband, he was so caring and soft with you but also trusted you fully to live your life independently from him when he was away on activities or on tour.

You had been married for five years before you even brought up the possibility of having a child and he couldn't have been more excited asking if you could start trying straight away. Which you did throwing away your birth control and hoping for the best you fell pregnant far more quickly than you expected, within a month, which was a blessing and also made Seungmin insanely smug.

Your waters broke during the first snow of the season and Seungmin was much calmer than you telling you that he had already had your hospital bag and the babies bag already packed in the car, he made sure that they had been there for the last two weeks. You laughed and kissed him on the cheek while he tried his best to get your very pregnant body into you not designed for pregnancy winter coat.

"Well this is not going to work" he muttered to himself mainly quickly trying to think up what to do next "Here I'll wrap you in this and then you will stay warm"

"Min that is the blanket from our bed" you giggled as he made you a sort of cape/toga hybrid to wear.

"I didn't factor in the whole coat scenario alright but I have everything else totally under control".

I.N

You and Jeongin had met through friends, you had clicked and your relationship always felt easy and loving. So no one was shocked when he proposed after almost a year together.

Although you had gotten engaged neither of you had even talked about having a baby the test you took for a prank showing two pink lines made the conversation happen pretty darn quick.

Although both of you were scared of how big a responsibility having a child was going to be you quickly realized that having a child with Jeongin would be a wonderful thing, he was going to be a wonderful father so it was going to be alright.

When your waters broke Jeongin tried his very best to not panic, while you called the hospital he called Chan. While you called your mum he called Lee Know and when you called his mum he called Changbin. The three of which all turned up pretty damn fast if you really had bothered to stop and think about it.

"Alright, I have the car running" Chan announced letting himself into your apartment.

"Are the bags in your room or the nursery?" Changbin called walking straight through to get them for you.

"It's important you stay hydrated and try to eat something now to keep your strength up, I've bought all the snacks you will need for at least the rest of today depending on how it all goes" Lee Know smiled softly handing you the bag before patting Jeongin on the shoulder.

"Are you going to help the mother of your child to the car or should I?" Chan smiled softly taking your hand and leading you to the front door to put some shoes on you.

"Oh... I'm on it" Jeongin nodded trying to look like he was holding it all together as Changbin walked passed with the bags and Lee Know picked up your cat to take back to his place until you were home again.

"I didn't realize you were going to need back up" you laughed softly as Jeongin shut the apartment door behind you all making him blush.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay899, @damnyouficcc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonienie,

[theleakypen]

ChengQing + "you're not the only one"?

Wen Qing sipped her tea in silence, waiting for Jiang Cheng to work up to whatever it was he was going to say. It was very good tea, so this was not a hardship.

"I don't want you to worry. This isn't—" Jiang Cheng paused, mouth working. "I'm not bringing a marriage suit to you."

Wen Qing's temper flared. "Why the hell not?" she snapped.

For months now after the door had opened on her Golden Scale Tower dungeon, freeing her and others of Jin Guangyao's clandestine prisoners, she and Jiang Cheng had been dancing around each other. When the Jin sect doctors cleared her to travel, she went first to Qishan, of course, to visit the cenotaph her brother and her cousin had established. But before she left Golden Scale Tower, the young Sect Master Jin had pressed a scroll into her hands. She had waited until she was on her way to unroll it, and found that it gave her free passage into Lotus Pier, stamped with the Jiang sect master's own seal. She'd thought he'd finally—

Jiang Cheng's voice was tightly controlled and formal. Wen Qing hated it. "I wouldn't place that burden on you. After what my Jiang sect has done to you, how could I ask you to be its mistress and spend your life with the man who destroyed your clan?"

"Is that what you think it would be?" Wen Qing set her cup down on the table with a clatter.

"I led the attack on the Charnel Pit back then," Jiang Cheng snapped. "I know what I've done."

"You're not the only one!" Wen Qing yelled, rising from her seat. "You're not the only one who compromised their principles for their clan! You think I didn't know what use Wen Ruohan and Jin Guangyao had for my expertise? For the sake of my family, I have been party to countless miserable deaths!" She slammed the table with her palms and was viciously pleased to see him startle. "What's the use of tallying our wrongs? After everything I've been through, shouldn't I have one thing I want?"

Jiang Cheng's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times. Wen Qing dropped back into her seat, breathing hard, and picked up her teacup again.

"You... want...?" he echoed weakly.

"I wanted you when my clan was killing yours, and when the remains of that clan were living on a mountain of corpses," she said morosely. "When in those days should I have indicated my interest to you?"

Jiang Cheng reached across the table and gripped her free hand in both of his. His eyes burned with emotion. "Now's a perfect time." He laughed, an almost giddy sound. It occurred to Wen Qing that she had never before heard him laugh. "If you really— If it wouldn't trouble you—"

Wen Qing grinned at him across the table. "I'll get you my eight characters."

--

Charnel Pit for 乱葬岗 is c/o dragongirlG's translation.

Eight characters 秊庚八字 indicate the year, month, day, and hour of a person's birth and are used to determine a couple's compatibility for marriage.

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

[beauvibaby]

become a family – a.beauvillier

You hadn’t meant to keep Gia a secret from your childhood friend, really honestly, you two had just lost touch, and by the time you found out you were pregnant and her dad left, it felt wrong to reach out simply to tell him that. So you didn’t.

But when you found out you were relocating to New York, Long Island specifically. You knew you had no choice but to reach out, it only made sense, it felt wrong not too. “Mommy.” Gia whined, “play!” She demanded with a tilt of her chubby face, motioning to the Minnie Mouse tea set she had sprawled across your tiny unpacked apartment floor. “Just a second baby.” You assured her with a soft laugh, you read the message you had typed out, you let out a deep breath and pushed send before moving to join your daughter on the floor, forcing the thought of checking your phone to the back of your mind.

“Hey, Tito. I know we haven’t spoken in forever, but I’m moving to Long Island, with my daughter, I thought it’d be nice to meet up sometime. Hope all is well!”

When he got the notification from Instagram, both of you long having lost each other’s phone numbers, his heart stopped briefly, he scrambled to unlock his phone, Mat eyeing him suspiciously. Tito read the message at least five times before what you said had processed with him, he clicked on your profile, he hadn’t really paid much attention to your posts, and they were so far and few between, he scrolled to the first one that was baby related.

A picture of your sonogram in front of your crossed legs, your ready to pop stomach on display, “just me and you against the world baby girl.”

Tito’s heart clenched in his chest, guilt, curiosity and sadness running through him, he scrolled to the next, a simple black and white photo of Gia when she was born, the caption only being her date of birth. The next wasn’t for another six months or so, the two of you in a small apartment back home. “Gia and mommy’s first place!”

He went through them all quickly, up to the most recent, from just before you sent the message, you with Gia on your hip, the two and a half year old hanging on tightly to you with a giggle as you grinned at the camera, your keys hanging off your finger. “New beginnings…”

“Tito? Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mat finally spoke up, Tito nodded, “you remember, Y/N? Right?” He questioned his friend, Mat nodded, curiously. “She’s here.” Tito whispered, Mat raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she's here?” “She moved to Long Island.”

***

You truthfully had forgotten to check your phone that night, you ended up putting Gia to bed late and you simply passed out right after. So when you woke, the memories came flooding back, you rushed to grab your phone, seeing a response on your Instagram.

“Long Island? A kid??? We definitely need to meet up, I’m dying to know everything. Missed you.”

Your heart returned to normal at his response, thankful that he was accepting and not shutting you out.

“Missed you too, you became a big shot! I’m taking Gia to a park down the street from my apartment today, I’ll send you the address if you want to come.”

That’s how you ended up here, pushing your daughter in the swing as she shrieked excitedly. Your laughter echoed through the remotely empty park, your attention solely on her as she had a nervous look on her face as the swing went a little higher, you slowed her down and she resumed her happy shouts. “Y/N.” Tito called, your head snapping in his direction, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he looked over at you with a grin, his eyes flickering between you and Gia. “Hi.” You grinned right back at him as he walked over to you, he wrapped his arms around you in a hug as he reached you, Gia slowly coming to a stop in the child swing. “Oh god, it’s been too long.” You spoke, voice muffled by his jacket. “Definitely.” He agreed easily, pulling away as Gia began to fuss. You pulled her out of the swing and she clung to you, eyeing him suspiciously, she was always particularly wary about men. “Hello.” He spoke softly to her, giving her a soft wave. She smiled weakly, hiding her face in your neck. “Say hi, Gia.” You whispered to her, she lifted her head, looking over at Tito who was still smiling fondly at her, “hi, Gia.” She spoke, sending you both into a fit of laughter. “We’re working on it.” You assured him through your giggles, your daughter dramatically hiding again. “That’s ok.” Tito assured you, noticing all the ways Gia resembled you.

“Lunch?” She whispered to you, wiggling to get down, “yes, let’s go.” You led her over to the covered portion of the park, where you had left your things, Tito followed behind you, holding in a chuckle at the way Gia happily ran towards the table, swinging her arms for exaggeration. You sat her up on the bench, sitting beside her and Tito sat across from the two of you, watching you silently, “how have you been?” You started speaking, feeling your skin warm up under his gaze. “Good, yeah, I’ve been good.” He answered, “what about you? Been busy I see.” He joked, Gia glanced up at him as she took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Yeah, she keeps me on my toes, in the best possible way.” You smiled at your daughter, she happily minded her own business, clueless to half the stuff you two spoke about. You told him about her dad, only using his name so she wouldn’t be confused, already learning that she didn’t have the two parents that some of her other friends have.

Jesse, you never expected him to work out long term, but you never expected to get pregnant either. Long story short, you told him and you gave him the option to not be involved, but he had to be committed to being a co parent or nothing at all. He chose the latter, and never looked back.

“That’s-“ “it’s good, I think, he wouldn’t have been able to stay committed.” You cut Tito off, not needing the apology speech again. He nodded, moving past the subject, a large grin started etching across his face as Gia tugged on your sleeve. You leaned down and smiled as she whispered to the best of her ability, “share?” She asked you, Tito cocked his head to the side as you nodded and leaned away. Gia grabbed one of her fruit gummies and held it out to Tito. “Share.” She mumbled cutely, smiling shyly with her head tilted down a little, just like you do. Tito gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “thank you!” He took it from her and popped it in his mouth, earning a genuine laugh from her that made his heart sore. Already so in love with your daughter and wanting nothing but the best for both of you. She tried to offer him more but he sweetly told her no, and that she should eat her lunch, she listened and continued snacking away. “Has she been to a game?” Tito asked you with a wicked grin, “no, actually, I haven’t been to a game since I had her.” You admitted, cringing as he gaped at you, muttering in French under his breath.

“I’m getting you tickets.” He spoke, already pulling his phone out, “what? No, Tito.” You rushed feeling guilty,

“Yes.” He stuck his tongue out at you, typing away on his phone before asking for your phone number to send you the info. You gave it to him, knowing he would just be stubborn anyways. “Thank you. Really. She’ll have a blast, I’m sure.” You spoke as you opened your phone to look at what he sent you, “Anthony!” You scolded, Gia jumping in her spot next to you, “Y/N!” He mimicked, giggling at your daughter who glared at him. “That’s too much, those seats are–“ “Those seats are necessary.” He cut you off, “it’s final. No take backs.” He teased, much like he did when the two of you were younger. You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile, “fine, you better win, for her.” You told him, motioning to Gia who was getting sleepier by the second. “I should take her home.” You added as she yawned, her head resting against her arms on the table. He smiled at her eyes fluttering shut, “yeah, but I’ll see you at the game, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he stood up, you nodded, moving to give him a hug goodbye.

You watched with a bursting heart as he pushed some of Gia’s hair back, leaving a feathery light kiss to her full cheek, “bye, sweetheart.” He whispered, she whined, nestling further into herself. You wiped at your eyes once he was no longer facing you, the sight before you simply pulling on your heart strings.

***

You adjusted the jerseys on yours and Gia’s bodies, the both of you wearing jeans with them. She smiled at the excitement on your face, “do you remember mommy’s friend we met yesterday, Tito?” You questioned her as you walked hand in hand to the elevator, she looked up at you curiously, “we’re going to see him do his job, you get to watch them play hockey.” You explained to her, she simply smiled, all oblivious to what you meant, but she got excited because you were excited. “Teo.” She spoke, an attempt at his name, not very good but adorable nonetheless. You whipped your phone out, squatting down in the elevator, you started recording her, “who are we going to see?” You asked her, she shook her head happily, her pigtails bouncing around, “teo!” She said proudly, clapping for herself. “Tito, good job.” You praised her before ending the clip, you sent it to him with a thumbs up before continuing to acknowledge Gia’s babbling.

He responded quicker than you thought he would, “I guess I’ve grown on her.” He sent a heart afterwards, presumably putting his phone away for the night to prepare for the game.

Gia whined as she clung to you, terrified of all the people surrounding the both of you, “it’s alright honey.” You shushed her as you slowly inched forward in the line, she nodded against you, arms wrapped around your neck and legs trying to wrap around your waist. You thanked the person as they scanned your tickets, letting you two begin the journey to your overpriced glass side seats. You were relieved to see they had already begun warm ups so she would be distracted by them, once she adjusted to her surroundings you knew she’d be fine. “Look baby, see how fast they go.” You held her up, pointing out to the ice, she instantly became mesmerized by them whizzing by. You sighed in relief as you tried to spot the oh so familiar number 18. The two of you wearing jerseys with his name, something you knew he would get a charge out of, as long as you could remember, you would wear his number to his games. And now would be no different.

You spotted him at the same time he spotted you, a bright smile coming over his face as he flicked a puck up and caught it in his hand, skating over to you. He waved at you and Gia and she grinned, recognizing him and suddenly no longer being shy as she tapped on the glass with an amused smile. “Hi!” She shrieked, earning a laugh from him. He motioned the puck in his hand and you nodded, easily catching it as he tossed it over, handing it to Gia who stared at it in amazement, “good luck.” You mouthed, fist bumping the glass like you did as a teenager, he grinned and did the same before skating off, some of his friends nudging him and asking questions as you settled into your seat for the night.

Gia enjoyed the game and the loud sounds more than you thought she would, she adjusted quickly to the slamming of the boards, if anything, you think that may have been her favorite part.

Once the game was over, you were directed by Tito to tell one of the arena employees your name and they’d bring you down to see him. Much to your surprise, it worked, Gia was antsy to be let down to run around, and thankfully the person leading you through the huge building was a sweet young girl, probably your age, who was just absolutely loving Gia. “Just go to the right, and stop at the double doors.” She explained to you as the elevator came to a stop, “thank you.” You smiled, ushering Gia onto the concrete floor, her laughter echoing as she had some room to run around and burn up some of her energy. You were speed walking behind her just to keep up with her little legs, “baby, hang on!” You called, sighing as you rushed to grab her, just in time too as the doors opened and a couple of guys walked out, thankfully Tito was one of them. “Hey.” You breathed out, Gia looked over, “teo!” She ran over to him, putting her arms up, he looked at you for approval, “oh, of course.” You gave him a look, as if you wouldn’t trust him with your daughter. He easily lifted her up, smile widening when she wrapped her little arms around him. A stark difference to her greeting yesterday. “You must be, Y/N.” One of them spoke to you as Gia began babbling to Tito who nodded along enthusiastically. “I am.” You responded, shaking his hand, “Mat.” He grinned, you nodded knowingly, “I know, I follow the sport.” You teased him, earning a snicker from Tito as he walked over to you. “Hey.” He mumbled, giving you a one armed hug as Gia refused to leave his hold. You lightly tickled your daughter as she hid in his neck from all the other guys. “You played good.” You assured him, he smiled softly in return before introducing you to some of his teammates, laughing when you became all shy, staying close to him and your daughter. You answered all the questions they threw at you, not noticing Gia was drifting off on Tito’s shoulder until she was already out like a light.

***

It’s been about 6 weeks since that game, the season kicking into full gear, Tito traveling very often but still coming over to see you guys when he wasn’t on the road, and today, he was coming over for the first time in two weeks, and Gia had no idea. The relationship between them was more than you could ever ask for, even yours and Tito’s relationship had changed, it wasn’t even spoken, it just happened, one night as he was leaving after you put Gia down. You leaned up to kiss his cheek but he turned, not knowing what you were doing. You both jumped back, muttering apologies, but you kept your hands on his chest, slowly you inched back together, your lips coming together softly.

Then it became more often, sneaking in kisses here or there, I miss you texts, phone calls. And now, now you were bouncing with excitement just to see him.

Tito knocked on the door with a wide smile, excited to see his two favorite girls, that thought running through his head the whole trip back, in his mind, he wanted to call you his, but he knew he hadn't even spoken to you about what this was.

You rushed over to open the door, Gia only just waking from her nap, “hi.” You whispered immediately being engulfed in his arms, yours going to wrap around his neck. “I missed you.” He admitted into your hair, kissing the side of your head, “I missed you too.” You assured him, leaning away to meet his eyes, something went unspoken between you two as he pulled you in for a kiss. This one was different though, more powerful than the rest had been. You sighed against him, melting into his hold as you kissed him back slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. “Tito.” You went to speak after you pulled back to breathe, “yeah, I know.” He murmured, pecking your lips again before finally stepping all the way inside. “Is she sleeping?” He frowned, wanting to see her, “she’s starting to wake up, I heard her fussing.” You explained, neither of you making any effort to untangle yourselves. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like a date.” Tito asked, you nodded instantly, “can’t we just count all the times you’ve stayed over here late as dates?” You teased, instantly making him relax. “Well, then I think it’s fine if I do this, as much as I want.” He joked, kissing you again, squeezing your hips.

“I think so too.” You agreed, pulling away once you heard Gia climbing out of her bed. “Gia, I have a surprise!” You called, hearing her giggle and run down the hall, she saw you and then she saw Tito standing beside you. What neither of you expected was the word about to come out of her mouth, “daddy!” You nearly passed out right there, literally swaying and having to grip Tito for stability. She hugged his legs, looking up at him with a grin. “Tito.” He corrected her gently, lifting her up once you regained your composure. “Hi, sweet girl.” He tickled her sides as he hugged her tightly, her laughter filling the room, you smiled at the sight, hoping that one day this would become a reality.

****

“Rough day?” You questioned Gia as she dramatically huffed and sat at the kitchen counter beside her sister. “Yes.” Gia spoke with a sigh, you held back your laughter, knowing that 1st grade could just be oh so difficult, Tito walked in a moment after with her backpack and lunch box, smiling at you as you held the two month old to your chest. He walked over to the girls, laughing at the bored expression on Gia’s face as she watched her two year old sister munch away on her fruit, “hi princess.” Tito greeted Sadie with a kiss to the head, before making his way over to you, kissing your lips and whispering a hello before taking the baby from you. He smiled as Cade gripped his finger tightly, looking up at his dad with the bright blue eyes that they shared. “Daddy, can we go for ice cream tonight?” Gia pouted at him, using the look she got from you that made him cave immediately. He glanced at you, who nodded, “only because it’s friday.” He pointed an accusing finger at her, watching as her annoyed expression broke into a smile. “Thank you!” She sang happily bounding to her room upstairs. You laughed at the sigh he let out, “Aw, did you have a rough day too, honey?” You teased, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his free arm around you, Sadie coughing for attention and succeeding as you both looked over to make sure she wasn’t choking. She only smiled, Tito’s smile as she continued to eat her blueberries slowly, you glared lightly at her as she giggled. “I did have a rough day, thanks for asking.” He mused.

“My wife didn’t text me once all day.” He pouted at you, “I’m so sorry, I assumed you would be busy working and all.” You laughed at him, cupping his stubbled jaw, “how ever did you survive?” You asked with fake concern. “I’m not really sure. But I did, and I lived long enough to pick her up from school, I’ve earned my ice cream.” He quipped.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

[cherylstiredthoughts]

Lonely Thoughts of an International Student

In search of stability and belonging.

I doors ding open and I walk in, scanning for a seat. A window seat, by the corner, as I tend to like, was available. I sat down, pulled my phone out from my pocket and peeled off my coat. Every morning during my thirty minute commute to the campus, I listen to music and scroll through Instagram. It has only been three months since I last saw my family in Singapore but that feels like a lifetime away. I swipe through the endless Insta-stories of my family members, friends I have long lost contact with, and the many others in between. Every day, the same routine. Every day the longing to learn more about their lives beyond the glimpses of fifteen-second videos. 

Over the last five years living abroad, I have missed many births, dinners, laughs, movie nights, weddings, and concerts with the people I love. There is something very lonely about being an international student. In a constant state of transition and liminality, no personal connection or relationship ever feels concrete or permanent. I do have my lifelong friends, close family members, and my partner dear to my heart but the constant state of transition is something I find I don’t share, can’t share with many dear to me.

I swipe, and swipe, and swipe.  There, I saw the familiar silhouette of this girl I used to share a flat with in my first year living abroad. She’s dyed her hair and looks a little different, dressed a little differently, posed with her new boyfriend, sharing about their little vacation. I haven’t talked to her in years now. I think back to how close we used to feel to each other. Having most of our lunches, dinners, and party attendances together. Now she is nothing but a distant memory. I cannot tell you more than that she’s a lawyer and she has a new boyfriend. She looks happy though, and that’s nice to know. 

I continue swiping through more faces of people that have briefly encountered my life but permanently remained in the periphery of my mind, showing up every time I swipe through social media. 

A little video of my niece laughing and running down the mall’s corridor into her father’s arms shows up. The next video shows her having food and practicing using a fork. At least that’s what my cousin’s captions said. A wave of sadness and love comes over me. I have so much love for these people. Yet, they only exist in clips of videos. I have met her once. The last time I went back to Singapore at a family party. What even entitles me to say I love her? I miss my family. I hate that I watch them grow up online and learn about their likes and dislikes through captions curated by their parents. I have only ever seen them through the lens and perceptions of someone else as though I am looking at them through a piece of glass. Well, I mean, it’s not that far off.

A message notification pops up. It’s my partner telling me something about their day. 

They are flying over to Manchester to see me in a few days and I miss them all the time. I know they are proud of me but sometimes I wish they had told me to stay. To not pursue an academic career through a prestigious, well-funded doctoral program. But alas, they are a good partner and naturally they encouraged me to pursue what’s best for me and our future, even if it means we live apart for four years, shuttling between borders on cramped airplanes and excruciating lines at airport security. During the two years I lived in Vienna, I found a home in and with them. Even then, it felt temporal. Not the relationship. The feeling of stability in a locality. It constantly felt like I was in a state of movement. I found somewhere I felt comfortable to call home, with someone I called family, and again, I moved. We have talked about settling in together after I finish my doctorate programme, but a part of me cant shake the feeling of insecurity in not knowing where that meant and how long it might be before I have to move again.  Sure, I am very privileged that my constant state of liminality and transition is one of high prestige and comes with much economic and cultural capital benefit. But this sense of intense loneliness and disconnectedness I feel from the people I love can sometimes be very isolating. Sometimes, I fear making new friends, or deeper connections for the temporality of it all. Perhaps some might enjoy this temporality but in me, it induces deep feelings of loneliness. Some people see my life as ‘’glamourous’’ or ‘’admirable’’ but I don’t think I see it that way. At least not anymore. 

[harryhandstan]

or the one where you forget harry’s birthday and try desperately to make it up to him

just wanted to write something small to try to get back into writing after my break! thank you all for your encouragement, excitement, and patience and I apologize for it being a few days later than I wanted it to be! this is probably the closest to angst that you’ll ever get from me :)

thank you to @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @tbslenthusiast, @bigspoonstyles​, @angryinternetduck, and @iconicharry for letting me run my ideas by you and being so kind in general. more thanks to @tbslenthusiast and @bigspoonstyles for being the most wonderful beta readers and just lovely friends overall!

this is another part of my dad!harry series so as always they are linked in order if you want to re-visit them or read from the beginning if you choose to!

⭐ I Want Your Belly ⭐ Wonderful and Warm ⭐ Washed Away in You ⭐ Do You Want to Build a Snowman? ⭐ A Styles Family Christmas ⭐

word count: 3.6k

“Harry, I’m running late do you think you could drop Sterling off at the sitter’s on your way to set?”

You’re already dressed, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your bag and keys from where they were tossed next to the dresser from the evening before. You dart into the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth.

Harry pokes his head around the doorframe, a wrinkled shirt in his hand, rushing through his own morning routine, “Thought she was coming here?”

“She can’t today, remember? Today’s our day to drop him off.” You put your toothbrush away just as he joins you, taking the toothpaste from your hand to use for himself.

“Alright, yeah. Y’ll have to pick him up later though, think it’ll be a late one for me today.” 

“That’s fine. I’ll throw his bag together and leave it by the door for you to grab on the way out. He’s already been fed and changed so he should be all set. I’ll transfer his car seat to your car too, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

He still has the toothbrush in his mouth, so you stand on your tiptoes to give him a peck to the cheek, adding a “bye, love you!” on your way out the bathroom door.

“Wait..y’don’t have anything else to say to me before you leave?” His mouth now rinsed, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, a tired smile working its way across his lips.

“Um..be careful? Don’t drive too fast with Sterling in the car.” 

“I never drive fast,” He takes a quick peek in the mirror, running his hands through his messy curls before turning back to you, “S’that all? Nothing else to say?”

You search your brain, trying to remember anything else you may have forgotten, “Oh! Right..”

His face lights up then, thinking maybe he was gonna finally hear the words he’d been waiting all morning to hear from you.  

“Make sure you tell the sitter there’s an extra pacifier in the right side of his bag that she can leave there in his cubby in case we ever forget one..and that I’ll drop a pack of diapers and wipes off when I pick him up cause I know he’s running low.”

His brow furrows slightly with disappointment, but you’re too busy to notice, blowing him another kiss before rushing out the door of your shared bedroom and down the hall to get Sterling’s bag ready.

He’s still pouting as he opens his top drawer to select a pair of socks for the day.

He couldn’t believe you forgot it was his birthday.

In your opinion, 6 weeks was not long enough for maternity leave. You’re sure no amount of time in your happy bubble with Harry and Sterling would’ve been enough. 

You were somehow able to push those 6 weeks to 12, your boss kindly agreeing to let you do what work you could from home. Eventually, that extension had to come to an end though and there was no other way you could avoid returning to ‘normal’ life.

You’re an hour into your work day but you still can’t shake the feeling that you had truly forgotten something. Harry’s words from the morning ring through your head again and again but you still couldn’t pinpoint what was special about this particular day. It was a Monday..was there some sort of significant anniversary from your relationship over the years, something small but important to him? 

You grab your phone when you have a chance, a quick lull in your morning that allows you to scroll through your phone’s calendar to double check anything your phone may have not yet notified you about. There’s nothing saved, and it does nothing to jog your memory of what importance today’s date holds. 

A text from Anne comes through and your heart stops when you read the message: Tell the birthday boy his present from me is on the way! I was a day later than I should’ve been sending it out so hope he won’t be too upset with me. All my love to you and Sterling as well!

No. Oh no. Guilt bubbles up through your chest and you cover your mouth to stop from cursing too loudly and scaring your nearby coworkers. You have to steady your hand so you can navigate your way through your contacts to Harry’s number, trying to calculate where in his schedule for the day he may be now. It was too early for him to be taking a lunch break, but you silently prayed he would be on a break in between filming scenes that would allow him to answer.

He had told you in the past that even if he wasn’t able to have his phone with him, it was always nearby. Especially now that you had Sterling, he tried to make himself available no matter how busy his schedule would be for the day. Even if he wasn’t able to answer, he would always make time to call back. 

So when you try 2 times with no success of getting through, you stop. You had both agreed before that 3 calls was your distress signal, and you didn’t want his mind to think the worst when he did see you’d tried to get through to him. A text seems too informal, too little for the man you love and adore. He deserved better than that, better than you, a partner who forgot one of the most important days where he should be made to feel special and loved every second.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know this day was coming, you did, of course you did. Being a new parent had well and truly ruined your memory. Turns out birthing a tiny human requires learning a ton of new information to keep your little one alive, meaning that even almost 3 months later your brain hadn’t been fully restored and you weren’t sure if it ever would be. 

How could you make up for something like this? You suppose you could pretend that it was all a joke; that you’d had this elaborate plan all along to surprise him and make him think that you had forgotten his birthday. But you couldn’t lie to him like that, it would only cause you to hate yourself even more later for covering it up. Plus, Harry knew you too well and would see right through that, and then whatever hurt you’re sure he was feeling now would only grow. 

You know he would eventually forgive you, if he hadn’t already, but that didn’t stop guilt from overriding your thoughts. If anything it made you feel almost worse knowing that he would be so incredibly forgiving.

God, you could only imagine the reaction of the fans if they found out. Some of them already had some questionable opinions about you, a few even going so far as to speculate if Sterling was truly Harry’s child, claiming that you had somehow “trapped” Harry into a relationship with you and that it would eventually fail. Harry had tried to ban you from going too deep, but sometimes your curiosity got the best of you, prompting you to scroll through Twitter or Instagram occasionally. It usually ended with you getting your feelings hurt and Harry having to remind you once again to stay away.

You try to find something in your memory, anything that he may have mentioned wanting (or at this point even needing) over the past few months. Aside from the mundane, everyday things like laundry detergent and shampoo to add to the shopping list, you couldn’t recall a thing. You only had 6 hours before you had to pick up Sterling, so you had to come up with something fast, something amazing.

What do you get for the golden boy who has everything?

You couldn’t believe you didn’t think of it before. It was something you had discovered not long after Sterling’s birth, but like many other things it had gotten easily dismissed and pushed down to the bottom of your list. 

Today, it only takes a few clicks through the website, a double checking of the spelling of the name that will be on the certificate, and a quick selection of a location for where you want it to be for Harry to now be the (hopefully) proud owner of his very own star in the sky.

After all it was Harry who found the name Sterling for your child, it was him who whispered “buonanotte nostra piccola stella” each night as he helped you put Sterling to bed; a phrase he had been most pleased with himself for learning, the Italian to English translation being “goodnight our little star”. If he couldn’t be there to say it, he made sure you knew the proper enunciation of the expression so that you could pass it along from him. It was always followed by 3 kisses to the top of his son’s head.

Thankfully, you were able to use the printer at work to print out the certificate and the map, slipping them both into a manilla envelope and tucking it away in your bag before you clock out for the day. Though you wished you had time to stop and select a nice frame, you only have 30 minutes before having to pick up Sterling, so you opt for a speedy trip to the nearest bakery and grocery store to gather what other supplies you’ll need for the rest of the evening.

By the time you and Sterling make it home, you still haven’t heard anything from Harry. You send up another silent prayer, more for his safety than anything, but also selfishly for yourself and his forgiveness towards you. It wasn’t unusual for you to not hear from him most days, and you remind yourself of his words from that morning about most likely having to work late. 

You push away the guilt that threatens to invade your thoughts again, doing what you need to do for Sterling to keep him content while you start preparations for dinner. Once you have him settled in his swing nearby, you take a moment to scroll through your music selection on your phone, deciding that having something playing in the background would be better than being alone with your thoughts while you work. 

You’ve just washed the veggies to chop for the salad when your phone dings, indicating a new message. You know it’s from Harry, and you’re almost scared to look. Instant relief floods your body when you do have the courage to take a peek: Home in an hour. Love you! Give bub kisses from me xx

The “love you” fills you with overwhelming comfort; takes you back to the day you first met him and how your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was you he was trailing through the crowd of people to approach, a cozy smile plastered on his face. You’ll never forget the gentle way he had spoken and how even though you were surrounded by at least a hundred other people at the party, he didn’t take his eyes off you the whole night. You let out a huge sigh of breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in and contemplate the best way to respond, finally concluding that simple was better.

Be careful, baby. Love you more!! Bubs and I miss you

His text gives you more motivation than you already had to power through making his favorite meal for him. An hour is plenty of time to get everything done, so when Sterling gets fussy and wants to be held, you tuck him against your side, doing what you can with one hand while keeping a tight grip on your son. You know he had missed you when he almost instantly relaxes at being close to you, and your heart hurts at the thought of ever being away from him again, even for something important like your job.

It still takes you a minute to get him calm enough to rest his head on your shoulder, so you don’t hear the sound of the door, or the clink of Harry’s keys or the sound of his footsteps falling down the hallway.

“Need some help, lovie?”

His voice, which normally calms you, nearly makes you jump out of your skin. So when you turn and say, “I thought you said an hour!” it comes out more like an attack than grateful to see him again.

“S’what I thought but we rushed through so I could leave earlier. Is that a problem?” His face is unreadable, somewhere between confused and disappointed with your tone.

“No! Of course not, Harry, I just..” That’s when your voice breaks, your guilt and emotions of forgetting his birthday finally being too much to hold back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” He’s moving the rest of the way through the kitchen to you, a hand smoothing a small circle over your back as you try to wipe your tears, “Please don’t cry.”

“I just wanted to have everything ready by the time you got home, to make up for this morning. For forgetting it was your birthday in the first place. I’m so sorry, H.” 

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, angel. You don’t have to make anything up to me. We’ve both been crazy busy lately, I’m surprised I even remembered what day it was. Here, why don’t I put Sterling in his swing and help you finish dinner?”

“No, absolutely not. It’s your birthday and I know you’re tired. Plus, I think he missed us today. You know how much he loves his swing but I didn’t get very much done before he got upset.”

“Alright, well, I’ll take him while you get everything else done. How’s that sound?”

You nod an agreement at his plan, transferring Sterling from your shoulder to his. There’s a few whimpers of disapproval, but he lets out a small sigh of contentment once he realizes it’s Harry who holds him now. Harry turns his head to smack a few kisses to the baby’s cheek to further pacify him. Sterling’s eyes open briefly, gazing sleepily up at his father. 

“Hi, bub, missed you. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into while Mummy makes dinner, huh?” 

“Not too much trouble, boys. It’s almost bedtime,” He winks at you as he turns to leave and you stop him, “Hey, wait, try this. Tell me if it needs anything.”

You stir a spoon through the pasta sauce you’ve had simmering away on the stove, bringing it to his lips with a hand underneath, careful not to drip it down the front of his white button-up or the top of Sterling’s head. He lets you feed him the spoonful, but doesn’t take his eyes off your lips.  Before you even have time to ask him how it is, he’s trapping his mouth against yours, a satisfied hum at the sauce mixing with the taste of you.

“Delicious.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, catching a bit of sauce that ended up smudged at the corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“Really, darling, it’s perfect.” 

At this point it’s obvious he’s not talking about the sauce, and you push yourself up to plant another kiss on his lips.

“Another,” He gently demands, and you oblige, but he doesn’t pull away yet, “C’mon, few more.”

“Looks like Sterling’s not the only needy baby in this house tonight. How many more kisses do you need?”

He smirks down at you, “It’s my 27th birthday, innit? Think I deserve 27 kisses, don’t you?”

You send him away with the promise of fulfilling his request for the rest of his kisses later, finally able to rush through finishing the last of what was needed to complete the meal and call him back to see the table full of everything you’ve prepared. 

Sterling is bright eyed in Harry’s arms again, and you hope that feeding him will lull him back to sleep for the night. With him having to stay with a sitter on the days that you and Harry were both working, you’d recently had to switch to using bottles for some of his meals. The sitter had assured you that he was adjusting to the bottle well when he was with her, but it had been a frustrating transition for you. 

“You’ve just spoiled him to the usual way, love. It’ll get easier. Want me to try?” He holds out his hand, offering to take the bottle and Sterling back, but you refuse. You know Harry’s right, it will get easier eventually, but right now you know he’s just still tired and hungry. So you give in, lifting your shirt and tossing a blanket over him while he eats. 

“Eat so you can blow out your candles and then open your present.”

He sets a plate of food in front of you and passes you a fork so you can eat with your free hand.

His mouth is full of food but his green eyes light up when he looks at you, “I have a present?” 

“Of course you do. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” 

“Can we skip cake and do the present first?”

You giggle at his excitement, but the truth is you’re nervous. You know he will be nice enough to tell you he loves it, but you also know him well enough to read the truth on his face. 

“Sure, birthday boy, whatever you want.” Sterling’s finished eating by now so you rest him on your shoulder, tapping his back a few times until you hear a small burp. Harry’s plate is mostly empty now, as is yours, so you tuck Sterling into his swing while you go to retrieve the envelope from earlier in the day. Your heart races as you may your way back to where he sits at the table, his eyes covered dramatically as he waits.

“You can open,” You slide the envelope in front of him and prop your chin up on one of your hands as you watch his fingers work to open the clasp. The papers sit upside down on the table and you inhale a deep breath as he flips them over. His face is full of curiosity as his eyes scan the page. 

“Did you..is this real?”

“Well I’m not sure how official it is but, yes, it’s real.” You take the map from behind the certificate and point out the location, “According to this it’s..”

“Is my star right over our house?” His eyes are wide as he studies the coordinates, “Can we go see if we can see it now?”

How can you say no to that? You let him lead you out the back door of your home and out into the cool air of the night. He only lets go of your hand when he reaches the edge of the yard, pointing straight upwards.

“It’s gotta be that big one, right? That mine, right?” You look over his shoulder down at the map and then back up to where he’s pointing.

“Yep, I think that’s the one. Unless..do you have the map upside down?”

“No! Do I?” He squints his eyes, bringing it closer to his face in an attempt to read it in the dark. 

“You definitely did. It’s that one there..to the left of the big one we thought was yours.”

“S’gorgeous, baby,” He tugs your hand until your smushed against his side and he tosses his arm around you, letting out a deep sigh as he continues to stare up at the sky, “Thank you so much.”

“You really like it?” You’ve got both arms wrapped around his middle now, enjoying the feeling of his chest rising and falling.

“I really do, angel. Can’t believe you named a star after me twice.” 

“Twice?” You tilt your head upwards to look at his face.

“Yeah. Twice. That one,” He points up again, “My favorite one though, the greatest gift you will probably ever give me, is probably snoring in his swing right about now.”

As sweet as the moment is, you can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, “If he’s anything like you, he’s definitely snoring right now.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

“Oh yes, you do. Feel like I’m sleeping in a cave with a bear sometimes.”

That earns you a big, booming laugh from him, and he pulls you even closer to kiss the top of your head. You turn your body to face him, squeezing him once and kissing his chest through his shirt.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you,” He places his hands on either side of your face, thumbs rubbing along your cheeks, a slow smile sneaking its way across his face, “Can I have the rest of my kisses now?”

The next time Anne and Gemma come to visit, he’s sweeping them down to the end of the hallway leading into your living room, to where he now proudly shows them the framed certificate and map sitting side by side on the wall. Of course they had both already heard about it before. The day after his birthday he had spent 10 minutes on the phone with each of them bragging about it. He’s got Sterling in his arms as he shows it off now. He holds him up next to the two frames.

“How lucky am I, huh? Not every man can say they have two stars named after them, can they?”

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

as always likes, reblogs, replies, and feedback are welcome!

tag list: @1980holland, @summertimestyles, @la-cey, @tbslenthusiast​

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[libra-kirishima]

Mirio and his wife(he dead ass proposed to y/n at UA graduation) How would Mirio’s dad react to being told he’s going to be a grandpa? I wanna get a cavity from the Fluffy sweet content.Oh oh oh and what if they did the headphone challenge where they tell him word for word while listening to music at a high volume.💕🌸😫✨🌿💜 PLSSS

I'm so glad we all agree that Mirio gets married straight out of high school.

When Mirio proposed to you just seconds after you both graduated, it was assumed by almost all of your classmates that it was because you were pregnant. Only Tamaki knew that Mirio had been saving the money from his work-study to buy you a nice engagement ring since your first date. It was only Tamaki who knew that he purchased that ring almost a year ago and had been hiding it in his sock drawer waiting for the right moment. It was also only Tamaki who knew Mirio wanted to propose at the graduation ceremony.

And he did. The very moment after you both launched your graduation caps into the air, he reached under his robe to pull the ring box from his slacks while you weren't looking. The surprised look on your face when you turned back to him was something Mirio plays back in his head every day. You turned to ask him if he'd want to come back to your dorm after the ceremony, and your eyes were met not with the chest of your boyfriend as you'd expected, but a brilliant ring in a velvet box that you absolutely adored. The tears began to flow before he could even finish his speech about how much he loved you, and couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life loving you.

Fittingly, only Tamaki knew that this wasn't a shotgun wedding, brought on by Mirio unexpectedly getting you pregnant. Though the two of you were completely unaware of this wide held assumption. It took Mirio's father asking when the baby was due to finally dawn on the two of you, several months after the wedding, that most people assumed the marriage was brought on by a baby coming. It was that evening that you and Mirio sat down together and made the decision to wait at least until you were both 25 to think about starting a family.

The positive pregnancy test in your hands at 19 was hardly unexpected, but still a huge surprise. You and he had both been so busy that you had gotten sloppy with your birth control, and the moment you both had an overlapping day off you made the most of it.

"Making the most of it' is such an understatement." You muttered to yourself. "We certainly made something." Though as panicked as you were, when you told your husband the news he was overjoyed. Before you could even finish your sentence, he was lifting you up by your waist and spinning you around. All the stress in you melted away as you saw the excitement in his eyes at the thought of him being a father.

"-We'll have to move to make room for the baby. And I guess that gives us the chance to think about what school we want to send them to and how their school schedule will fit in with our work schedules. I don't want you to put too much stress on yourself so maybe Tamaki will help us. I bet he'll be excited to find out. What color should the nursery be? I don't know if you want to decide that before or after we know the sex of the baby. Is it sexist to color a nursery based on the baby's gender? What about purple or yellow? Oh, or maybe green or orange! What do you want to name them? Is it too early to start thinking about that? And how are we gonna tell our families?" Mirio's rambling stops after that final question and his eyes widen. "Oh my god how are we gonna tell my dad!?"

"Do you think he'll take it poorly?"

"No he seemed really excited last year when he thought you were pregnant."

"Then there's nothing to worry about." You reassured him, prompting him to have a seat. He followed your suggestion and sat himself on one of your dining room chairs. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

It was four days later that he came up with the idea. Deciding to take a break from looking for a place with two bedrooms, you busied yourself with something else as he aimlessly scrolled through social media.

"That's it!!!" You heard him shout from your place in the kitchen.

"Did you find a place you liked?" You shouted back. He burst into the kitchen to join you.

"No, even better!" He answered, padding over to you with excitement in each step.

"You decided what color you wanted the nursery to be?"

"No, but I have a really strong feeling that it's a boy and I think we should go with blue and yellow."

"And what if it's a girl?" You asked with a small giggle. He froze and allowed himself to think it over.

"Blue is a gender neutral color." He finally responded. You muttered a soft 'good answer', but it was lost as he continued with "But I swear that it'll be a boy. Didn't you say something about a cancer's intuition?"

"Hey that's serious stuff. Don't joke about that." You argued.

"Exactly!" He insisted. "Wait what did I come in here for?" You shrugged your shoulders, which prompted him to leave the kitchen and return to the living room. Shortly thereafter he returned to the exact spot he stood in the kitchen, lost in thought. You could tell he was retracing his steps. "-so then I got excited and came to talk to (y/n) and she asked if I decided what color I wanted the nursery to be- Oh! I can just check my phone!" You laughed to yourself as he pulled out his phone to resume scrolling. He found what he was looking for and brought it over to show you.

A video of an older couple wearing headphones blasting loud music. They were being told by their daughter that they were going to be grandparents, and you watched as they tried to piece together what they were being told. Once the father figured it out, he leaped out of his seat with joy.

"So that's what you want to do with your dad?"

"Yes, please." He answered. "Next week?"

"No." You answered, pointing your finger at him. He pouted at your response, which you elected to disregard. "You will wait until the second trimester and you will like it."

"You can make me wait until the second trimester, but you can't make me like it." He answered. Crossing your arms, you raised one brow at him with a sharp glare. "Fine, I'll like it!" He sighed, causing you to grin.

To Mirio, the first trimester went at a snail's pace. He was eager to meet his baby boy and even more so to tell others about him. He wanted so desperately for these 40 weeks to be over. At the five month mark, he couldn't drive you to your doctor's office fast enough. Not even trying to hide the eagerness in finding out the sex of the baby.

"I told you he was gonna be a boy!" Mirio told you excitedly as you walked back to your car. "See, Cancer intuition!" You laughed at his enthusiasm over correctly guessing the sex of your baby.

"I think that was just wishful thinking." You joked. "You didn't do anything."

"No, I'm definitely psychic."

"Okay then Mister-Psychic-Intuition. Will he be a Virgo or a Libra?"

He tapped his chin as he thought over your question. You knew he wasn't as into this stuff as you were, but he still devoted a lot of effort into his prediction.

"I think he'll be a Leo." He answered as he drove out of the parking lot.

"Do you want to go tell your dad now?" You asked. His eyes lit up at the sound of your question and immediately changed course to his dad's house. "Great!"

Mirio didn't even knock and wait to be let in. He saw the light on, noted that his father was home, and used his key to let the two of you in as quickly as possible.

"Dad!" He called from the doorframe. In all his excitement, he nearly forgot to remove his shoes. Mirio's dad scrambled to his feet from where he was sitting on the couch, believing that his son was in some kind of danger. "No sit back down, we're going to play a game."

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine, don't worry. But sit down, it's game time."

He sat down, but remained both concerned and confused as his son sat across from him, prompting you to do the same.

"How are you?" You asked him.

"Just fine, thank you (Y/N). How about yourself?"

"I'm great, thank you. Do you have any exciting plans for this weekend?"

"Not really. I have errands to run but nothing else on the agenda. What about yourse-"

"I FOUND THEM!" Mirio shouts from upstairs. You hardly thought to ask where he had gone to, instead making polite conversation with his father. Your husband barrelled down the stairs a moment later, triumphantly holding up his old headphones from when he was in high school. "I thought I left them here!" Mirio wastes no time in running him through the rules of the whisper challenge and putting the headphones over his ears with music playing loud enough to block out what you were saying. Mirio looked at you then back at him with a big smile. He and his dad flashed each other a thumbs up.

"Can you hear me?" You asked. No response. "Okay good start." You then turned to Mirio. "Can I film this?" You asked, although you didn't wait for an answer before you pulled your phone out and opened the camera.

"You're going to be a grandparent." Mirio stated, doing his best to annunciate every syllable.

"Do you want spinach?" His dad guessed. Mirio shook his head.

"You're going to be a grandparent." You echoed.

"Shorts? Do you want to wear shorts?"

"You are going to be a grandfather."

"You want me to what?"

Your husband shook his head and decided to take over.

"You are" Mirio stated.

"You are" His dad repeated. You both nodded encouragingly.

"Going"

"Going"

You both nodded again.

"To be"

"Crazy! You are going crazy." He guessed. Mirio sighed and shook his head.

"You are going to"

"To! You are going to!"

"Be a"

"Be! You are going to be."

"A grandfather." Mirio finished.

"A- a grandfather! You are going to be a grandfather!" You both nodded excitedly. He repeated to himself. "You are going to be a grandfather. You are- I'm going to be a grandfather?" He pulled the headphones off his ears. "I'm going to be a grandfather?"

"You're going to be a grandfather!" Mirio repeated excitedly. You pulled the ultrasound photos from your jacket pocket and handed them to his dad. "In a few months you get to meet your grandson!" He added, voice shaky from holding back tears.

"You're kidding me!" His dad added, holding back tears of his own. "You're not kidding?" You shook your head. He stood up and engulfed you both in a hug, no longer trying to hold back his tears.

"I'm due somewhere between September 13th and September 22nd."

"Although I think the baby will come a couple weeks early." Mirio added with a soft smile.

And just as he predicted earlier that day, he was right.

[starrybethany]

Maybe Someday - Matthew Tkachuk Imagine Part 4

Matthew Tkachuk: Maybe Someday Masterlist

Word count: 3.3K 

It’s kind of awkward at work on Monday. I give Matthew a brief wave in the hallway, unsure of whether to approach him or not, and when he just smiles back and walks away, I decide against it. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. On Tuesday, Charlie stops me in the hallway to ask about the skates.

“Oh, he loves them, thank you so much,” I respond graciously.

“Yeah, anytime,” he waves me off, “Oh, captain.”

My heart flutters at the call out to Matthew. I can’t believe that he’s captain of the Calgary Flames now- I still remember laying on his bed with him late at night, whispering our deepest desires to each other.

He told me that his biggest dream is to win the Stanley Cup as the Calgary Flames captain surrounded by all of his closest friends and family. He’s almost there.

“Hey,” Matthew stops beside me. His body heat radiating onto mine makes me nervous, but I try my best to hide it.

“Hi.”

“How’s her son’s skating?” Charlie grins.

“All three of them did really good,” the captain praises.

I bite back my grin at the compliment.

“All three of them?” Charlie asks in confusion.

“Y/N, her son, and her daughter.”

“You have a son and a daughter?”

I nod, suddenly realizing that we’ve only talked to Charlie about Wyatt. Somehow, Naomi never got brought up in conversation.

“Do you want any more kids?” He questions.

My eyes widen at the inquiry. Truthfully, I’ve never gotten it before. Most people know of my single status and no one asked me and Curtis since we broke up soon after Wyatt’s birth, so I’ve never thought of it too much.

“I don’t- I’ve never- um,” I stutter through the question, feeling hot under Matt and Charlie’s gazes. I know that Charlie is asking it for Matthew, since Matthew has always wanted a big family, but I don’t know what to tell him.

He and I aren’t even dating- I can’t think of him in that sense right now, I just can’t.

Luckily my phone ringing in my pocket saves me. “Excuse me.”

I step to the side, answering the phone with relief. By the time I’m done, Charlie and Matt have already left for practice.

~

Jammies and silly movies are a tradition that we do once a month. On the first weekend of the month, the kids and I spend the Saturday lounging around in our pajamas, eating as much junk food as we want and watching cartoon movies- whatever they want to watch we watch.

Wyatt is snuggled up to me on one side, Naomi allowing me to rest my arm over her shoulder as we watch Hotel Transylvania 2.

My phone ringing on the end table startles me. Truthfully, I don’t get many calls on the weekend. I don’t talk to my family anymore, so no one is inviting me over for dinner, I don’t have many friends- at best, it’s Curtis asking how the kids are.

I answer it, seeing that it’s from Kelsea. “Hello?”

“Oh Y/N, you answered, thank god,” she gasps in relief.

“Kelsea, what’s wrong?”

“There’s an emergency, the floors went in the wrong room and they painted the walls the wrong color and-“”Kelsea, take a deep breath,” I reassure her, despite my panic on the inside. “Look, I’ll be there in about a half an hour, okay? Then we can get it all figured out.”

“Okay.”

I hang up, sighing in frustration. I hate to be ditching my kids, especially when we’re in the middle of one of our favorite traditions. Sometimes, though, work needs to come first- especially when it’s a big project like this.

I know my boss would hand me my ass on a platter if I just left it for Monday.

The kids are still invested in the movie, laughing at the funny comment Mavis just made, so I take the chance to dial up their dad. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. His voicemail begins and I scoff, ending the call.

“Okay kids, sorry to ruin this day but we have to go in to work for a little bit,” I inform them.

“No,” Naomi whines, throwing her head back like a teenager would. “Can’t you just leave us here?”

“You’re six years old Naomi, not sixteen,” I snicker at her remark, pulling her up to stand by her arms. “Come on, it’s just for a little bit. Go throw on some clothes.”

The kids and I climb into the car ten minutes later, Naomi still grumbling about the movie. I promise her that we can finish it later, but she continues to grumble about it as we walk into the building.

Wyatt begins to whine as well, tiredness from missing his afternoon nap kicking in. I pick him up, ignoring the pain in my lower back at the action, and grab Naomi’s hand to pull her down the right hallway.

“Okay, so the floors are in the wrong room, the walls are the wrong color, and what else?” I question, stopping beside Kelsea as she scrolls through her phone in the lounge room.

“We can’t find-oh, you brought company,” she comments, looking up from her phone to notice my kids.

I know, it’s not ideal for me to be bringing my kids in to work, especially when my work is a construction zone. But it was last minute- what was I supposed to do, just dump them on my elderly neighbor? Curtis wouldn’t answer his phone so I couldn’t give them to him.

“Yeah, it was pretty last minute so I couldn’t find a sitter,” I tell her, gripping Naomi’s hand a little bit tighter.

“That’s fine, sorry about this,” she blushes sheepishly. “The wrong hardwood was put in the lounge room, the painters used the paint meant for the trainer’s room in the bathroom, someone broke a bottle of wine on the new floor and no one will admit who did it, and the new orders are delayed.”

“Okay,” I take a deep breath, “We have a lot to get done. Why don’t you call some people to see how much it would cost and what it would take to get the stain out of the new floor, and I’ll call the paint store about getting new paint?”

She nods, heading down the hall towards her office. Unfortunately, I don’t have an office here, so I wrangle the two kids into the empty lounge room and pull out my phone to make the call.

They shout while playing with one another, something that usually makes me smile, but seeing as how everything is going wrong and I’m at work on a Saturday, it makes me even more stressed out.

“Kids, can you be quiet please while I make this call?” I request.

They nod and lower their volume but since the room is empty, it echoes around the space.

“Hey,” a voice states from the doorway, “I thought I heard familiar voices in here.”

I turn around to spot Matthew leaning against the doorframe, Naomi squealing and running across the room towards him while Wyatt follows closely behind.

“Matthew! What are you doing here?” The young girl asks, jumping into Matt’s arms. He picks her up with ease, balancing Wyatt in the other arm.

I try to hide my drool.

“I work here, bud.” He laughs. “What are you doing here?” I know the question is actually directed at me- there’s no reason they would be here if it wasn’t for me.

“A bunch of emergencies,” I sigh. “Do you happen to know who caused that stain?”

I point towards the tennis racquet sized red wine stain on the brand-new hardwood.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but it might have been an old friend of ours,” he gives me that knowing smirk.

“Hanny?”

He does his tell. Turning his head away from me, trying to hide the smile that’s growing on his face.

I widen my eyes, letting out a breath in exasperation.

“Okay, well, guess I know who to shake down now,” I murmur, pulling out my phone and rubbing my forehead in stress.

“Do you, um, maybe want me to take them while you work?”

My head shoots up to look at Matthew. He doesn’t look insecure, like he’s asking out of politeness, but he also doesn’t look confident either- like he thinks that I’ll immediately say no.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I could just hang out with them and show them around while you handle some things.”

I think about it. The kids know him, he’s good with them- that much I can tell by watching how he dealt with them while ice skating and the way he’s gripping onto them now. He’s clearly going to keep a watchful eye on them so nothing will happen to them.

I need to stop being an overprotective mom who needs to be by her kids 24/7. Maybe it’ll be good for them to spend time with something besides me or Curtis.

“Thank you, Matthew,” I smile at him. I can tell he’s surprised by how quickly I accepted, thinking that it would take longer than that to convince me.

“Just text me when you need them back,” he responds, slipping out the door and saying something to the kids to make them giggle.

I can’t help but smile, letting the weight lift off of my shoulders. I still have so much to do, but that’s two less things, or people, to worry about.

~

“Noah Hanifin, just the person I wanted to see,” I state as I step out of the lounge room into the hallway an hour later, calls to the paint store and the manufacturers for the delayed orders made.

He’s bouncing a ball against the wall, something I’ve never understand until Matt explained to me that it’s for coordination.

“Y/N, hey I heard you were working here,” he greets me, stopping his bouncing to give me a mock salute.

“And I heard that you spilt wine on the new floors in the lounge room,” I respond.

“Tkachuk,” Noah curses under his breath, clearly plotting revenge for his captain.

“Doesn’t it sound fair that you pay to replace them, then?”

“Yeah I guess I can do that,” he shrugs like it’s no problem. It probably isn’t to him, the Flames posted the other day about his new, expensive contract.

“Good, I’ll give you the bill when I see you next,” I grin at him, turning to find Kelsea.

“Hey, I saw your kids with Chucky earlier,” he comments before I could walk away.

I turn around slowly, unsure of where this conversation is going.

The balls make little thuds as they hit the wall. “I haven’t seen him that happy in a long time.”

My heart drops into my stomach at that remark. I hope with all of my heart that it’s just because he’s around kids- he always did like kids. I hope that it has nothing to do with spending more time with me.

“It’s good to see you two back together again. I can tell you’ve grown in the last couple of years,” he continues.

“We’re not dating,” I mumble.

“You’re not? So, you’re trying to hurt him again?” He pauses the bouncing, choosing to raise an eyebrow at me.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid, Noah,” I exclaim.

“Well, I don’t think you’re doing a very good job at it.”

I fold my arms across my chest, looking down the hallway in thought. “What can I do about it now, though? He’s attached to my kids and they’re attached to him.”

“Ask him out.”

He acts like it’s that simple.

“It’s not that easy, Noah,” I murmur.

“Then make it that easy.”

The conversation ends when Kelsea calls out my name, ushering me down the hall towards her. I try my best to focus on my conversation with her and fixing the numerous problems that have arisen, but I can’t get Noah’s words out of my heads.

I don’t want to date him out of fear of hurting him again- but if I don’t date him, I’m hurting him again.

Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

~

By the time all of the fires are put out, I’m exhausted, and I want nothing more than to watch Mavis show up all of the kids at the skatepark.

“Mommy!” I turn around to spot my two children running down the hallway towards me, clothes covered by baggy Flames jerseys falling off of their bodies.

I wrap my arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug and kissing their temples. My eyes move up to see Matt walking down the hall towards us slowly, a smile of adoration gracing his face. I pull away from the kids, rising to my feet and tugging at Naomi’s sleeve.

“What is this?”

“Matty said that we couldn’t go to the game without his jersey,” Naomi informs me.

“It’s rigilous,” Wyatt adds.

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say. “What?”

“Rigilous,” Wyatt repeats.

“Ridiculous,” Matthew laughs. The toddler nods in confirmation.

My eyes widen when I realize what they just told me. “We’re going to the game?”

“Yeah,” Naomi cheers.

The curly-haired man gives me an apologetic look, knowing he promised them something without discussing it with me first.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But they really want to go tonight- if you’re too tired I can see if one of the other wives or girlfriends can watch them,” he suggests.

I narrow my eyes at the suggestion. Nobody’s going to be taking my children to their first hockey game except me. He looks startled at my sudden mood swing, and honestly, he should be.

You don’t promise kids something without talking to their parent first- it’s similar to Curtis promising Wyatt that he could play hockey without discussing it with me, except Matt has no relation to the kids except through our friendship.

“No, I want to be with them.”

He nods hesitantly, looking at his watch and giving it a disapproving look. “I have to start getting ready soon. Do you want me to show you to your seats?”

“Yeah,” I reach out to grab Wyatt’s hand and hold my other one out to Naomi. To my and Matt’s surprise, she grabs Matt’s hand instead. I watch as he tightens his grip on the small girl and begins to lead the way down the hallway.

“What did you guys do today?” I ask, mainly to my children but also asking my ex-boyfriend.

“We met Matty’s teammates,” Naomi cheers. I wonder when she started calling him Matty- clearly sometime today, since I’m pretty sure she was calling him Matthew earlier. I guess she feels a lot more comfortable with him now that she got to spend the day with him.

“And played hockey,” Wyatt continues.

“You played hockey?” I repeat.

“We have some mini sticks laying around,” Matt informs me.

“Mommy, guess what,” Naomi gathers my attention.

“What?”

“Wyatt and I beat Matty and Sam at hockey.”

“You did? Good job, guys, I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks, mommy,” she turns around to send me a beaming smile. When she’s turned back around, Matthew turns around to do the same. My heart stops in my chest at the gesture. Him, holding my daughter’s hand, smiling at me, leading me through the halls of the Scotiabank Saddledome so I can see him play for the first time in about seven years- there’s something so, domestic. Something so familiar.

And I can’t put my finger on it, but I want it in my life more.

~

The Flames end the night with a win. I want to celebrate and feel excited for the team, especially Matthew, but I feel so drained and all I want to do is tuck my kids into bed and go to sleep.

I’m buckling a half-asleep Wyatt’s seatbelt when a voice calls my name. I glance over my shoulder to see Matthew approaching us, an unbuttoned coat showing off his suit. I can’t help but swoon at the sight.

“Good game, Matty, congratulations on the win,” I tell him, the exhaustion evident in my voice.

His smile transforms to a look of concern when he hears my words. “Thanks. Are you, uh, alright?”

“Just really tired,” I give him a tight-lipped smile. “I want to get home and put these guys in bed quickly.”

“Y/N, you look rough,” he tells me honestly.

I laugh at that. “Thanks.”

“No, seriously,” he states, “I don’t think you should be driving in this state.”

I sigh. “I don’t really have a choice. I just want to get the kids home.”

“Well, let me help you,” he offers.

I give him a confused expression. “What do you-“”I can drive you guys home and help you tuck the kids in to bed.”

“I couldn’t ask you-“”But you’re not asking, I’m offer. Actually, I’m demanding,” he smirks at me, moving to open the passenger side’s door for me.

I roll my eyes but finish buckling Wyatt’s seatbelt and close the door, sitting in the seat and letting Matt close it behind me.

“I forgot how tiny you are,” he chirps me, moving the seat back so he can sit comfortably. I give him an unamused look at the chirp, but it makes his grin widen even more.

“What about your car?” I ask as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“Hanny drove me here today,” he responds.

“Don’t you want to let Noah know that you don’t need a ride home?”

He shrugs me off. “He’ll figure it out.”

I scoff at his nonchalant attitude but don’t respond, turning to stare out the window in amazement. I can’t remember the last time I was the passenger in a car, and not the driver who had to worry about listening to two kids talk about their days and passing them snacks and drinks.

He gets my address since it’s already programmed into my car, meaning that I can doze off on the twenty-minute drive home.

“Hey, baby,” he shakes my shoulder gently, rising me from my light slumber.

“Hm?”

“We’re home.”

“We’re home?” I echo. He chuckles and I open my eyes to see him giving me a soft smile, obviously amused by my tired state.

I yawn, stretching my arms before opening my car door. “I’ll get Naomi, you get Wyatt?”

“You just go straight to bed,” he assures me.

“Matt-“”Y/N,” he interrupts sternly, giving me a familiar look that I know better than to argue.

I enter the kids’ rooms and set out their pajamas for them before changing and doing my nighttime routine, laying on my bed and hoping for a few more moments of relaxation before I have to go put them to bed.

I’m awoken a while later by the other side of the blanket being lifted, a body sliding under the. covers beside me.

“What are you doing?” I mumble, opening my eyes just enough to see Matt as the guilty party.

“Sleeping next to you,” he answers quietly. I nod, too sleep deprived to tell him otherwise. Plus, I’m not going to kick him out of my house when it’s nearly midnight and he doesn’t have a safe way to get home.

“Did you change the kids and tuck them in?” I question, hoping he says yes just for the sole purpose of me not having to get up and out of this cozy bed.

“Yes.” He reaches a hand forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Without even processing it, my hand reaches forward, fingers gliding up and down his forearm. He relaxes into my touch and for the first time since we reconnected, everything between us feels complete.

We were always meant to end up in bed together, exhaustion and exhilaration all setting in.

I just wish my clearheaded self would realize that.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

Can u do a dad Tom holland x mom black reader where they have a 2 year old son ( Elijah ) and a 1 month old daughter (Ellie ) and his fans are being mean because your baby girl is darker than her big brother and Tom tells them to stop on a livestream but they don’t and he takes a break because he more frustrated than reader is . And the next day y/n go to Toms parents house and y’all talk about it and y/n sobs ending in fluff

YOU WONT BELIEVE THE SWEAT I HAVE DRIPPED FOR THIS ASK, I DID DO A LITTLE OVERBOARD, NICE ASK, NICE COCK 👍🏽 OH AND I MADE A MISTAKE ABOUT THE NEXT DAY THING, I WAS CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT

warnings: I DONT KNOWWW, NO SMUT BUT SËX REFRENCES- FLUFF? AND CHILDRENN NOT PROOF READ BITCHES

T.H| TITTIESSSS

Tom smiled as he posted the picture, cuddling into his small daughter as you took care of your son. You both weren’t really doing anything just binge watching Soul Eater because you refused to watch love island.

“I don’t get this show, it’s terrible” “your terrible” you chuckled at him, noticing that Ellie was slowly starting to tear up. “I think someone’s hungry yeah? Come here Ellie” you cooed, Tom picking up the small child and placing her into your arms while he took Elijah, whos currently side tracked from TV, you pulled down your, Toms, oversized shirt to feed Ellie. Smiling as she sucked the soul out of you.

“You know-“ “we can’t have sex” “but Ellie gets to get your nipples and I don’t?” “Do you want her to starve?” “No I want to have sex” he clarified, rolling your eyes you placed some of her hair behind her ear.

Toms phone started to ding and he furrowed his eyebrows, he opened his phone and read the comments “it’s the girl being darker then the boy for me” “why is Ellie darker then Elijah?” “she’s a cheater- I told you Tom” and some trying to defend “y/n is literally darker then Tom, what did you expect? I’m so sorry this is happening” “did y’all really have to put the baby in this? We all know y/n doesn’t play about her kids”

“What’s wrong Tom?” You say, now playing with Eli’s hair. Tom only frowned at you “I’m tired of people thinking that they know most, at this point it’s really annoying” “what’s wrong Thomas?” You asked, more sternly as you pulled lee away, but she starts to cry some so you put her back.

“Nothing love, you hungry though?” He asked, trying not to make you feel anyway at the moment. “No I want you to tell me what’s wrong and right now Thomas, forreal” you made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not telling you y/n” he simply says, getting up forgetting his phone and walking into the kitchen.

“I have to find out myself then!” You yell, taking his phone and scrolling through your guessing comments?. You aren’t the one to scroll through his phone at any cost because you trust him entirely, but he’s pissed and you need to find out why.

Patting lees diaper you sequenced you’re eyes to read the comments, zendaya saying “they are both so cute! Where have y’all been be seen I need to come over, like right now”, Jacob B commenting “look at lil man!” And others but as you continued to scroll down you found the negative ones.

Just reading them so fast as your blood line ran cold, you didn’t notice that Tom was coming back. “Y/n stop” he says, putting the glass of water down and reaching over Eli to take the phone but you snatched it back. “Is this what they think of me? Of my kids?” You say weakly, showing him the phone as your eyes started to water.

“Don’t listen to them, we brought Eli and Lee for ourself, not for them. Let’s just take a-“ his heart dropped as tears silently trailed down your cheeks, still reading the comments. “You are only making it worse, give me the phone Y/n” “no” “give me, the phone” he said madly, not at you but at others. He reached all the way over, watching out for the kids and taking the phone without a fight.

You detached lee and fixed yourself, lifting your knee and placing her on the pad of your thigh wiping your tears and you took her small hands.

Tom only through his phone on the nightstand and turned off the TV “what are you doing?” You ask him, “let’s take a nap yeah? I’ll when we wake up I’ll do a live or something to communicate with them” he took off his shirt and sat on the bed, sighing as you only seen the back of his head, he ran his hands through his hair, not letting them, his so called ‘fans’ get to him.

Tom laid down and threw the blankets over him, turning off the light and making it as dark as possible although it was only about 1 in the evening. “I don’t think I can go to sleep” you say as he turns in your direction, “then try darling, I really don’t want us to be stressed out love” he gave a smile, playing the the loose curls in Eli’s hair while looking at you.

“Yeah okay” you nod, Tom taking lee again while you took Eli. Eli smiled as he gave you a slimy kiss “ew!” You smiled, you let out a sniffle and Eli frowned at it, kissing your nose. You giggled and wiped it off, noticing an arm around your waist trying to pull you closer you came closer, Toms hand going down to yours and putting his fingers in between yours as you did the same and gave a squeeze. “I love you, y/n” he mumbles, his thumb brushing your knuckle. “I love you too”

“Ready?” He asked, you sitting next to him and the babies are sleep, you nod, “ready”. He started the live, about two minutes in everyone started to join. He took your hand and smiled down at you, returning it you kiss his cheek. Sooner or later he had about 6-9k and he cleared his throat,” I’m pretty sure you’ve all seen the comments and I’d like to ask all of you to stop” he simply asked, the comment bar flooded of hurtful words, they weren’t gonna stop anytime soon. “Lee is a child she doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, you not only hurting her your hurting my wife, MY wife” he pointed to his chest “you also hurting me, y/n doesn’t do SHIT-“ he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing his back.

“She doesn’t do shit but tries to show you how happy we are, for all of you saying that she’s cheating she isn’t, she’s been with me, do you see her skin?” He asked, looking at you and kissing your cheek “she has color, I don’t of course Ellie is going to be darker then her brother, they aren’t fucking twins!” He yells. He gets tired of it and pins one of the comments “maybe you should stick to your color and this wouldn’t of had to happen, you shouldn’t even be here”. “That’s the shit nobody should say, don’t talk to my wife like that you fuckin-“ “that’s it Thomas you asked, calm down” you whispered, his face red as his jaw is clenched, he bites his lip as he apologizes “I’m sorry, but please I just- I’ve worked so hard and found love, I found a wife. It makes me mad that you can’t accept that-that I can’t be happy without one paparazzi and news about me, I want a break and I want a family, and now that I have one none of you support me- or most” he refused to cry infront of them but is was heart clattering. “I-bye” he simply says, grabbing his phone and ending the live.

“You did your best-“ you get cut off by his phone ringing. His mom was calling, he instantly answered “yeah mom- yeah” he sighed “alright we’ll be over”. “They want us to come over” he stood up and took your hand, pulling you up with him he gave you a peck on the lips. “I love you Thomas” you wrap your arms around him. “I love you to, and I’m not going anywhere”

You and Thomas walked to the door with one car seat each in your hands, he knocked on the door and was instantly met with Sam “hey! Give them here-“ “wait give me lee!” Harry said, running up and taking the car seat from your hand making you laugh, Sam took the other and they both walked off to the kitchen with distant talks like “please be my taste tester” “I wanna take photos with you!”

Tom put the keys in your back pocket, walking in he called for his mom and she told them both to come to the livingroom. As you both walked dom sat up and gave you a hug while Nikki gave Thomas a hug. “I’m so sorry about those twats, your children are so beautiful” he rubbed your back slowly.

“Thank you” you whispered, hugging him back tightly. He let you go and rubbed your arms as he gave you a sweet smile, soon treading and Nikki gave you a hug “I love you and your children, we both support you so much and want you to know we are here for you, come sit” she stops hugging you and takes your hand, pulling you to the couch.

Tea was on the white coffee table and you and Tom sat on the mint grey couch, the couch you don’t touch if you live there. “It’s just-“ you sighed, Tom rubbing your back as you fought the tears. “I love your son so much and to think that I would ever hurt him-or you guys in anyway is just so hurtful, and having the pressure of everyone going against me and our child- comparing them as if they can stick up for themselves” you cried, you didn’t fight it. They are your family now, and forever will be. Tom didn’t like seeing you cry at all, it almost makes him cry, seeing you weep and vulnerable isn’t well for him because when he met you you were a strong, independent woman, and you still are but it hurts him too much.

“Yeah” dom nods, passing you a tissue and Tom takes it, pulling your face to him and patting under your eyes. “But they don’t matter, we are your family and we know from our hearts and our mind that you didn’t do anything wrong” Nikki weakly smiles, seeing you cry really is heart breaking, you just gave birth a month ago and depression is so severe. “We love you y/n, your child is our grandchildren no doubt” dom smiles, reaching over and holding your hand gently. “I love you, you are so important to me, our children are so important to me, just all of us in general are so important to me, so important that I’d quit anything for you, for my children, it’s us, a household, a family” Thomas pulls you close.

Eli saying “yum! YAY! More!” In the background with Sam making you laugh, he ends up running to you with a spoon filled with pasta. “Taste! Yummy!” He smiles at you, his baby face and small teeth “hurry mommy!” You smile and open your mouth Eli feeding it to you and you hum in satisfaction. “It is yummy, who made it?” You asked, “I did! I helped sam” Sam walked up to the livingroom, leaning on the wall. “I’m coming!” Harry yells, airplaning lee into the livingroom “pshhhhh” Harry does sound effects, lee laughing making you all smile. Eli jumps in your lap and looks at your face “why are you crying mommy?” You let out a chuckle “because I love all of you” “love you to mommy” he hugs you, Harry handing lee to you and hugging her back, Tom joining as Sam walks closer and sits next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and soon everyone is group hugging. “Umm- your squeezing me!” Eli whispers, everyone laughing as you all just take in the whole thing, happy that this is your new family, other then your other precious family also.