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[17-personalities]

Oscar Isaac

Photo: Elvira Lind

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[17-personalities]

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me and my obsession editing marc with a pink ribbon sticker needs to be studied omg

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Rekindled flames:

Jonathan Levy x reader

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Jonathan Levy sat at his desk, surrounded by a sea of student essays. His thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the intricate dance of balancing his career, his responsibilities as a father, and the personal challenges that loomed large in his life. As a professor of philosophy, Jonathan was accustomed to pondering life's deeper questions, yet he often found himself grappling with his own sense of purpose and fulfillment.

His introspection was interrupted by the knock on his office door. "Come in," he called, expecting a student needing clarification or perhaps a colleague. When the door opened, he looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

Standing there was Y/N, a former student of his, now a young woman of 21. They had shared a brief, intense connection three years ago, a time when she was just beginning her university journey and he was navigating the complexities of a failing marriage. They had lost touch after she left university for a while, but seeing her now brought back a rush of memories and unresolved feelings.

"Y/N... It's been a while," Jonathan said, recovering from his surprise. "What brings you back?"

Y/N smiled, a mix of warmth and nervousness. "I transferred back to finish my degree. I wasn't sure if you'd still be here, but I wanted to stop by and say hello."

Jonathan nodded, gesturing for her to sit. As they exchanged pleasantries, the room filled with an unspoken tension, both aware of the past yet unsure of how to navigate the present.

————————————————————————

Over the next few weeks, Jonathan and Y/N found themselves drawn back into each other's orbits. They reconnected over coffee, their conversations flowing effortlessly from philosophy to their personal lives. Y/N had matured, her experiences adding depth to her character, and Jonathan felt a renewed spark, a curiosity about the woman she had become.

One evening, they met at a cozy café, tucked away from the bustling campus. As they discussed their favorite philosophers, Y/N shifted the conversation to more personal grounds.

"Do you ever think about how things ended between us?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

Jonathan hesitated, his heart pounding. "I do. It wasn't the right time for either of us, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about what might have been."

She nodded, a small, understanding smile playing on her lips. "I felt the same. It was complicated, but it mattered to me."

Jonathan reached across the table, his hand brushing hers. The contact was electric, reigniting the feelings they had tried to bury. "Maybe it doesn't have to be just a 'what if,'" he suggested softly.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with hope and uncertainty. "I'd like that."

————————————————————————

As they began to explore their feelings for each other, Jonathan and Y/N faced the challenge of navigating their rekindled relationship. The age difference and Jonathan's position as her former professor added layers of complexity, but they were determined to be honest and open with each other.

One night, after a particularly deep conversation, they found themselves alone in Jonathan's apartment. The air was thick with anticipation and unresolved tension. Jonathan hesitated, aware of the boundaries they were about to cross. Y/N, sensing his hesitation, reached out, her touch light on his arm.

"Jonathan, it's okay," she whispered, her voice steady. "We can take things slow, but I don't want to let fear hold us back."

Jonathan looked into her eyes, seeing the sincerity and courage there. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of missed opportunities, and the promise of a future they had yet to explore.

They moved to the bedroom, the atmosphere charged with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. Jonathan was gentle, aware of the significance of the moment, while Y/N met his touches with equal fervor. As they undressed, their hands explored each other's bodies, tracing the paths of newfound intimacy.

Their lovemaking was slow and deliberate, each touch a question, each response a confirmation. Jonathan was attentive to her needs, his hands and lips exploring her with a reverence that made her feel cherished. Y/N, in turn, reveled in the sensation of being with him, her trust and affection deepening with every moment.

As they lay together afterward, tangled in sheets and each other's arms, Jonathan felt a profound sense of peace. For the first time in years, he felt a clarity about his feelings and his desires.

————————————————————————

The following weeks were a blend of joy and uncertainty. Jonathan and Y/N continued to build their relationship, but they also faced the inevitable challenges. They decided to keep their relationship private, at least for the time being, to avoid unnecessary complications and gossip.

Jonathan introduced Y/N to Ava, his daughter, in a casual setting, ensuring the meeting was comfortable and stress-free. Y/N was charming and warm, quickly endearing herself to Ava. The three of them began spending more time together, and Jonathan marveled at how seamlessly Y/N fit into his life.

Despite the growing closeness, Jonathan struggled with doubts and fears. He worried about the potential fallout if their relationship became public, the reactions of colleagues, and the ethical implications of their past dynamic. Y/N, too, had her concerns, particularly about the judgment from peers and the scrutiny they might face.

One evening, as they lay in bed, Y/N turned to Jonathan, her expression serious. "Do you ever regret this? Us?"

Jonathan shook his head, taking her hand in his. "No, never. But I do worry about how others might perceive it, how it might affect you."

She nodded, understanding his concerns. "We can't control what others think, Jonathan. But we can control how we handle it, together."

Her words reassured him, and they resolved to face whatever challenges came their way as a united front.

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As time passed, Jonathan and Y/N grew more confident in their relationship. They became more open about their status, gradually introducing the idea to their friends and colleagues. While there were some raised eyebrows, most people accepted their relationship, recognizing the genuine connection they shared.

Jonathan took a sabbatical, allowing them to focus on their relationship without the constraints of academic life. They traveled together, exploring new places and deepening their bond. Each day brought new discoveries and reaffirmed their commitment to each other.

Eventually, they moved in together, creating a home that reflected their shared values and interests. Ava, who had grown fond of Y/N, embraced the new family dynamic, finding in her a friend and confidante.

Jonathan's relationship with Y/N brought a renewed sense of purpose and joy into his life. He felt more balanced and fulfilled, no longer burdened by the conflicts that had once plagued him. Their love, built on mutual respect, shared experiences, and deep understanding, proved resilient and strong.

In the end, Jonathan and Y/N found that their second chance at love was not just a rekindling of old feelings but a mature, lasting bond that enriched their lives. They faced challenges with grace, supported each other through difficult times, and celebrated their victories together.

Their journey was a testament to the power of love, resilience, and the courage to embrace the unexpected. And as they looked towards the future, they did so with a sense of excitement and contentment, knowing that they had found something truly special in each other.

[17-personalities]

a concept: heavy rainfall when you’re tucked up in bed. like if u agree.

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Steven's reaction when the fridge is full of vegetables and Jake just has a cup of coffee and a cigarette for breakfast:

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ugh. wow.

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JAKEJAKEJAKE

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“silly, gorgeous girl.”

WHATTTTTTTTTTTT IM GONNA PASS OUT

can i request just steven fluff? Maybe you are stressed and he is going out of his comfort zone to comfort you? I want a fic that is just him bc i hate the way Marc is always always always the focus! I love marc but steven my love <3

AN | Steven really just out here being everyone’s dream mans, huh? I just think he would the sweetest when you need him  🥰

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Period Related Issues, Mentions of Estranged Family

Word Count | 1.6k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

“Hello darling,” his voice was soft and cheery as he looked from the book he was reading as you trudged into his apartment. He hadn’t done anything wrong or said anything wrong but it still managed to annoy you. You felt bad the moment you realized it was probably written all over your face.

“No,” you sighed as you shook your head before dropping your bag and heading towards the bathroom to take a long, hot shower, “I’m so sorry, Steven. I just…I’m in a horrible mood. It’s not you, at all, but I just need a bit of time alone.”

“Okay,” he agreed softly, deciding to respect your boundaries. For a moment he wanted to be offended but then quickly decided realized it wasn’t personal. Instead he dog-eared the page he was on and tossed his book onto the table before walking into the kitchen. If there wasn’t anything he could say to make you feel better, then maybe a nice cup of tea would help. 

Just standing under the hot water and scrubbing away the grime of the day helped you to feel a million times better. You took your time, making sure you were thoroughly clean, lathering up in Steven’s soap and shampoo. You always loved how he smelled and wanted to have him that much closer, that even when you woke up the next you could still feel him.

You weren’t even sure how long you remained in the shower, stepping out only when the water started to run cold. Steven must have slipped in silently at some point, leaving a warm, fluffy towel and some clean clothes for you on the edge of the sink for you. The kind gesture made your heart constrict slightly, and you felt bad for how you’d snapped at him. He always managed to be so gentle and kind hearted, even when people didn’t deserve it. 

You were drying off your hair when you walked back into the living area, finding him watching a random documentary on TV, a steaming mug of tea on the table in front of him. He had impeccable timing and had made your favorite tea in your favorite mug. 

“Steven,” you whispered his name so softly that it captured his attention immediately. A smile worked its way onto his face as he patted the spot next to him on the couch where he’d placed a big blanket. You made a small sound as you padded over and huddled under the warmth of it as he wrapped his arm around you without hesitation, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, my love. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted with that grin you loved so much, “we all have off days. I’m sure I’m not always a peach either, and yet you still put up with me!”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you turned so you were looking up at him. His eyes were illuminated by soft lamp light, making them the most lovely shade of umber, his gaze so tender and gentle, “you are always wonderful, Steven. I can’t even think of a moment you weren’t.”

“No need to flatter me,” a dark flush of pink crept into his cheeks as you gently touched his face, “do you want to tell me about it? What’s got you upset, sweetheart?”

“It’s just…I apologize in advance for all my whinging, but I’m just going to get it off my chest and then it’ll be done,” you huffed lightly.

“Don’t apologize,” he repeated softly, “just tell me. Let me carry some of the burden for you.”

“I love you,” was the first thing off your lips as you leaned up to kiss him. He repeated the sentiment quietly, “work has been mental, as I’ve already whined about, and my boss has been hounding me about this silly presentation I’m working on. I’m not presenting it for another two weeks and it’s coming along. He’s practically hovering over me half the day about it and it’s frustrating. I know what I’m doing and am more than capable. I wish he’d leave me alone.”

“He’s…definitely something,” he agreed, never having been his biggest fan, “have you tried…suggesting that he could leave you alone?”

“In nice terms,” you sighed, “I think I might just have to be direct, even if it hurts his feelings a little. Maybe then I can breathe.”

“I can always rough him up a little,” he suggested with an eyebrow wiggle as you couldn’t help but laugh, “well, maybe Marc can, but it’s all the same, innit?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned as he shot you a cheeky wink, “on top of that, my family’s been on me about us going to see them and spending the week there. And…hesitation is not anything to do with you. I just…I don’t really want to see them. They front like they’re such wonderful people but they’re not - I mean, I’ve told you stories about them. They’re my family you know, by blood, but you…you’re my real family. You’re the one that matters.”

“The feeling is much the same, sweetheart,” the expression he was watching you with was nothing short of reverent. His hand found your face as he stroked his thumb over your cheek before wiping away the tears that had pearled up and rolled down, “don’t cry, it’s alright. Don’t pay them any mind.”

“I know,” you huffed with a light laugh, “it’s silly to worry about something so trivial.”

“If it has to do with your feelings, it’s not trivial.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you wrapped an arm around his middle, snuggling yourself into his side as much as possible, wanting to mold yourself into him, “I’m glad one of us manages to be level-headed. I am also majorly deep in my PMS and that’s not helping anything.” 

“I can’t speak to how horrible that is,” he shuffled you around slightly so he could pull you into lap. He reached up and swiped his thumb along your bottom lip, and you pressed a kiss to it before taking his hand repeating the action to each finger, “but it seems like the worst. .”

“It can be,” that might have been an understatement, “and makes me so…I don’t know. The hormones definitely are all over the place. I cried at a commercial with a dog earlier-”

“But was it a sad commercial?”

“Not even,” you laughed, a sense of ease seeping into your bones. Nothing - nobody - made you feel the way he did. So loved and cared for…seen and heard, “it was just a commercial. And then I came home and was mean to you! I…I’m sorry, truly Steven. But you…thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for, darling?” Was it possible for him to be any sweeter? You put your hands on either side of his hand, studying him intently as he practically beamed at you. You sighed lightly, a warm contented sound, before leaning and kissing him gently. His hands found purchase on your waist as he held you softly, capturing your lips with a few soft kisses of his own. 

“For being you,” you kissed his cheek before pressing your forehead against his, “for always being there for me, for being kind and patient, gentle, and loving. You are everything and more than I could ever wish for. I love you.”

“You have me, sweetheart,” he promised, nudging your nose with his, “I love you too…did you use my shampoo?”

“Yes,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around your neck, carding a hand through his dark curls, “I wanted to smell like you. It always makes me feel better. That’s why I like to use your pillow when you’re gone. It makes me feel like you’re there.”

“Funny story,” he whispered in your ear before you pulled back to look at him, “I do the same thing to your pillow.”

“Steven,” the small laugh that escaped your lips was definitely his favorite sound in the world, “I am so in love with you. Every little thing you do and say. You’re my favorite thing in this world.”

“I think that might just be the crazy hormones talking,” he suddenly seemed very shy as he dipped his head, burrowing it in your neck. His arms had a tight grip on and you kissed the side of his head, “silly, gorgeous girl.”

“It’s not,” you promised quietly, “it’s the truth, Steven Grant. I just…thank you.”

“You’re my favorite thing too,” he was gently stroking your back, the touch feeling wonderful on your stiff muscles, causing you to arch into his touch, “want to order a take away and watch a silly romantic comedy?”

“I would love nothing more,” the look in your eyes was enough to make him melt, “you’ve turned my entire day around and made it a million times better, my love.”

“And I’ll do it whenever you need me to,” it was a soft, gentle promise, “my darling.”

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oh. my god.

Good morning 🤗

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There are some bad bitches on here but I am too busy with my theories

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the damn potato.

[17-personalities]

YALL IM SOBBING HELP ME

baby, please - father's day

Santi celebrates his first Father's Day.

Warnings: Just SICKLY SWEET. Mentions of breastfeeding (but as I've always said, a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast!). Small mention of body insecurity. Hints of a parent who has passed. Allusions to unsupportive parents (as mentioned in the original fic). Not even remotely proofread so there will be mistakes 😊😊 Word count: 2,800 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

I know this is over a week late, I apologise. A part of my Baby, Please universe; this can be read as a stand alone but all the history is in the series.

“So, I’ll come over on Sunday with the girls?” you ask him down the phone.

Santi frowns in confusion at your words. “Did we make plans?”

You go quiet, and Santi momentarily wonders if he’d forgotten something important. Was he supposed to have the girls for the day? Had he just fucked up? It – obviously – wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that with you, and he’d truly tried his hardest to never wrong you again. He could have the girls, it wasn’t a problem, he didn’t have any plans anyways –

“It’s Father’s Day, Santi,” you tell him gently. “Your first one.”

Oh.

He hadn’t celebrated Father’s Day in years, not since before his own father had passed away. And he never thought he’d celebrate it for himself. And the girls were barely five months old, was it…really worth doing anything until they were older?

“We don’t have to do anything, I was just assuming…” you say, taking his silence as a bad thing.

“No, sorry,” Santi says immediately, trying to calm your anxieties. “You just took me by surprise. I didn’t realise that it was Father’s Day.”

You chuckle softly on the other end of the line. “Well…I was thinking we could go to the beach. It’ll be the girls’ first time, and I thought we could spend it together.”

Santi is quiet. Too quiet, and for too long, because your unsure voice comes through. “Santi?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He swallows, running a hand down his face. This was going to be his first Father's Day; a milestone he never imagined he'd ever experience in his life. The reality of it all was almost overwhelming. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed in just over a year, meeting you and having kids; the joy and responsibility of being a father to these two beautiful girls was immense. Santi couldn't shake the feeling that he was living in a dream, and the weight of it pressed on him, a mixture of awe and gratitude so intense it nearly brought tears to his eyes. “The beach sounds great. Really. I would love that.”

“Okay,” you say, and you sound relieved. “I'll bring a picnic, and…and the girls can play in the sand, and the ocean. I bought them some cute shorts the other day, they could wear them. It'll be fun, I promise.”

Santi feels his heart skip a beat at the way you try and reassure him that it’ll be fun, like he wouldn’t want to spend the day with you and the girls. Of course he would, he would drop everything if it meant he could see you and the kids. He smiles despite himself. He can almost picture it now: the bright sun, the endless stretch of sand, the sound of the waves, and his girls' faces as they experience the ocean for the first time. It's a perfect plan. A perfect day.

“So…should I pick you up, 10am?” you ask, that nervousness still in your voice. Santi can just picture you now, biting your lip as you wait for his answer.

“Yeah, see you Sunday.”

“Okay,” you breathe, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “See you then.”

You both hang up after saying your goodbyes, and Santi stands there for a moment, staring at his phone, still processing everything. His first Father's Day.

A year ago, Santi would have laughed if he was told he would be spending the day at the beach with the woman he knocked up on a first date, and his twin daughters. Yet here he was, planning his first Father’s Day together, marvelling at how life had taken such an unexpected turn for him, after the shit show that was their last mission with Lorea, and losing Tom. Santi couldn't help but feel some anxiety, which left a heavy and sick feeling in his stomach, but also excitement for what Sunday would bring, a figurative step forward in yours and his ‘unconventional’ journey.

“Think this is a good spot?” you ask, but you dump your bags down anyway before he could answer.

Santi gave a small laugh as he watched you arrange your set up for Isabela and Jasmine; some inflatable supports so they could sit up, some toys from home that were beach friendly, and some towels to sit on with extras in your bag (just in case, you never know!), and an umbrella to give the girls shade. You had contemplated bringing some buckets and spades but decided that they were too young for that just yet.

You looked cute when you came to pick him up, in some shorts and a flowy shirt. You’d been having a few insecurities about your body as of late, as there was just a little but extra of you that wasn’t there before, and you were unsure of wearing something a little less exposed. Santi had told you that you grew and birthed two – two! – children, your body was bound to go through some changes. And you continued to nurture those two – two! – children with your body, so your body was amazing. It warmed your heart (and your cheeks) to hear that from him, and you said no more on the matter.

The sky was so blue it looked painted. The beach is perfect – not too crowded, with soft, warm sand and gentle waves. The girls are dressed in loose t-shirts and shorts, matching sun hats on their heads. You had already lathered them in sunscreen before leaving your house, but you were already preparing to add more on them as Santi popped them in their inflatable supports. Santi laughed as the girls kicked their legs in the sand, their eyes wide as they took in the feel of it on their legs and feet.

After placing more sunscreen on the girls, you sat back and relaxed, smiling at Santi. “This is nice.”

Santi nodded, looking around as he takes a seat with the twins, quickly stopping Isabela from eating a handful of sand. “I don’t remember the last time I went to the beach and just relaxed.”

You gave a breathy laugh. “As relaxed as you can be with two five-month-olds.”

Santi gives a shrug with a small laugh before he stops Isabela eating the sand again. He takes his shirt off, tossing it over with the rest of your stuff, and you try hard not to stare at him. He wasn’t as active as he used to be, but still kept in shape and had a nice little chub that suited him well.

After applying sunscreen to yourself (and making Santi put some on too, which he does – with an eye roll), you change the girls into some swim diapers and swim onesies. Santi carries them both to the ocean with you, one girl in each arm, and you take as many photos as you can before sending them to your friends and Santi’s. You beam so much your cheeks start to hurt (it puts the meltdown over your own father you had that morning to the back of your mind).

Santi steps into the ocean, just up to his knees. You take Jasmine from him, and the two of you crouch to give your girls their first experience of the sea. The first touch of the cool ocean on their feet makes them pause for a moment, and after a moment, Isabela starts crying. Jasmine looked over at the noise, almost startled, before she splashed a little in the water, giggling. Santi brought Isabela back out, soothing her a little until her tears subsided, before trying again. He laughed when she started screaming again, her legs lifting before hitting the water.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” said Santi, lifting her back up. “You don’t like it. I won’t do it again.”

“I’ll take her if you want,” you say, straightening up with Jasmine.

You swap babies, Isabela calming in your arms, unshed tears on her waterline as she watches Jasmine and Santi play in the ocean.

“See, it’s not so scary,” you coo to her, but she merely clings to you as she watches. You take some selfies before getting some photos of Santi and Jasmine. She kicks her legs, splashing water everywhere, and you and Santi both laugh, caught up in her pure, unfiltered joy.

For a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just you, Santi, and your daughters, the sun warming your skin and the waves gently lapping at your feet. Santi feels a swell of emotion, a deep, steadfast love for his new family that nearly overwhelms him.

“She loves it,” you say with a laugh, your voice filled with happiness as you lightly bounce Isabela and look at Jasmine. “Look at her!”

“I know,” Santi replies, his voice thick with the sudden emotions. “I know.”

You try again with Isabela, dipping her toes in the water. She seemed happier with that, and she kicked her legs a little before you submerge her feet in the water. Her matching giggles with Jasmine fill the space around you.

The day passes in a blur of laughter and play. You both take turns holding the girls as they splash in the water, then retreat back to your towels where you sit with your daughters. You nurse them for a moment and Santi offers to get some ice cream for you both from the hut down the beach. You nod, and the girls soon nod off in your arms. You lay them on the towels in the shade. They look like little angels, their sunhats crooked on their heads as they sleep.

Santi comes back, handing you an ice cream before he sits back down with you. You eat together silently, and Santi watches Isabela and Jasmine. His heart feels full. He glances at you, catching you watching him with a soft smile.

“You’re a good dad, Santi,” you say quietly.

“Thank you,” he replies, his voice barely a whisper as his cheeks warm. “That means a lot.”

Santi turns back to the girls again with a sense of awe, his heart swelling with pride. “I still can’t believe they’re ours,” he murmurs, his voice melting into a chuckle at the end.

“Me neither,” you admit, quickly licking at the dripping ice cream. “But I’m glad they are.”

The girls sleep for another hour, and you watch over them as Santi goes for a dip in the ocean. He offers to swap ‘shifts’ with you, but you’ve never been fond of the ocean, and you’re happy to keep an eye on the girls as they nap. And you don’t admit it, but you get to ogle Santi as he comes out of the ocean, golden skin glistening from the water and the sun…you noticed you weren’t the only one admiring him, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly smug when the other women – and some men – on the beach send jealous looks over to you when he joins you.

The morning turns into afternoon, and Jasmine wakes from her nap, where Santi offers to change her as you set out the picnic between you both. Jasmine babbles away as Santi places her back in her support, and you hand her a few toys in reach to keep her entertained as you eat. You’d brought Santi’s favourite sandwiches and some fruits, and his favourite cake from that bakery you frequently go to when you go on one of your walks together (“It’s Father’s Day, why wouldn’t I bring your favourite foods?”).

There was that warm feeling again. This was Santi’s first Father's Day. Every giggle, every tiny hand grasping his finger, every sleepy sigh as they drifted off to sleep, it all felt so surreal. Santi couldn't shake the feeling that he was living in a dream, one where he was finally building the family he had longed for, and the weight of it pressed on him, a mixture of awe and gratitude. He doesn’t know how you always know how he feels, but as you reach other to give his hand a squeeze, he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze right back.

Isabela wakes up soon after you both finish eating, and you change her, and reapply sunscreen to everyone (“You too, dada!”) before you and Santi take them in the water again. Isabela, again, has a little fright before she embraces the water, and she lets you take her in deeper. Soon, Santi is holding both girls in his arms, the water up to his chest as he holds them both in the water, cheering that both of them have taken to it so well.

“Wait, wait, let me get a photo!” you call before you get as close as you’re comfortable with, getting a photo of Santi smiling widely, sunglasses on his face. You take as many as you can, even some where he’s just cooing to them both.

The day passes in a blur of baby giggles, diaper changes, and feedings. Santi marvels at how much the girls have grown, their personalities starting to shine through even at such a young age. He can already tell that Isabela is more adventurous, always wriggling and reaching for things, while Jasmine is quieter, content to snuggle in his arms. His finds his mind drifting back to memories of his own father, the way they all used to spend the day fishing or grilling in the backyard, and the way his mother used to try and take over the cooking, but his father always used to tell her it was his day and he will cook the meat however he damn well pleases (but eventually, his mother would always end up by the grill with his father, her arms around his waist as he followed her instructions). He smiles at the thought of making new traditions with his Isabela and Jasmine, even if they were too young to remember them now.

Santi would like to think his parents would be proud of him, and of the girls.

The sun lowers, and there’s a slight chill coming in from the breeze and you both call it a day. You feed the girls one last time before packing up, and hauling everything back to the car, where you strap them into their car seats, giving them toys to play with. You close the trunk of the car, before turning to Santi.

“So,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the car. “How was your first Father’s Day?”

Santi gives you that crooked smile that always makes your knees weak. But you’ll never tell him that. “I admit, it scared me a little. But…it was a good day. A perfect day, actually.”

You smile, proud of yourself, and of him. “Good. I’m glad.”

Sanit offers to drive you home, and you take the opportunity. The drive back is quiet, and the girls fast asleep in the backseats, their faces peaceful. The sun and the excitement of the day wearing them out more than usual. You doze in the passenger seat, and Santi sends over a fond smile as he pulls up outside his house. He gently shakes you away.

“Hey…” he mutters. “We’re home.”

You blink up at him and yawn before stretching. You sit up and unbuckle your belt. “Thanks for driving home.”

“No problem.” He smiles at you before you both go quiet, just taking each other in. After a moment, he says, “Thanks for today. It was…perfect.”

“It was,” you agree, smiling at his sincere tone. “We should do it again sometime, not just for Father’s Day.”

“I’d like that,” Santi replies, a warmth spreading through him at the thought. “We could invite Fish and Sarah, and they could bring Sofía.”

You nod. “That would be nice.”

After you swap places in the car, and Santi gives his daughters a kiss goodbye, giving them soft smiles as they stir awake, he comes to the driver’s window. “So I’ll have them Tuesday and Wednesday, right?”

You nod. “Yeah. Oh! Actually, can you have them Saturday evening, too. I uh…I have plans.”

He pauses for a moment and ignores the sudden tightness in his chest before he smirked at the warmth of your cheeks. “What plans?”

“None of your business,” you say with a teasing grin as you roll your eyes.

“You got a date?” Santi teases back.

“Maybe…I’ll let you know,” you say. There’s a small quiet moment between you both before you clear your throat. “So…see you on Tuesday? I’ll text you.”

“See you on Tuesday,” he says, and you give him a goodbye as you pull away. Santi watches as you drive away, a sense of contentment settling over him. His first Father’s Day. It had been more than he ever could have hoped for.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[17-personalities]

oh. my god.

i actually have no words. real tears streaming from my eyes right now

hes just so so so so so so so so so so so so so pretty. unbelievably so.

[17-personalities]

yes.

I'm SO torn. disgusting side burns. delicious long curls

[17-personalities]

this caption was a little too real

happy father's day to my dad who gave me daddy issues so i could be obsessed with this man