maskedzofian-blog

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: The Forever Farmhouse

Review: The Forever Farmhouse

Synopsis: A Chesapeake Island homecoming—and a life-changing discovery When Ryan Hastings first came to Teaberry Island, he was a troubled teen on his last chance. He’s returning as a renowned scientist, checking in on his widowed foster mother. But one thing hasn’t changed—Ryan’s feelings for the girl next door whom he loved…and left. Mellie Anderson has a son now, and a good life that Ryan…

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

There needs to be an "Austen adjacent men" bracket. So many hotties in Austenland (and other properties I guess) and no way to rank them.

it may not be a full bracket but your wish is my command - here are some austen-adjacent men to vote on...

curse my spelling mistakes *Mr Nobley

[theragamuffininitiative]

Some days you just wake up with the urgent, desperate, primal need for a high caliber dramatic film starring Corey Cott and you can't DO ANYTHING about it.

[feynavaley]

Sorry for the prolonged silence... Let's just say, things with my coworker went really well and he's now my boyfriend. Which means, my free time has suddenly gotten even more limited... But to be honest, I'm not really missing tumblr right now. 😅

[shittygaypornmagazine]

An Honest Christmas

It was stupid, Frank had to admit that. Not because he was particularly fond of being honest with himself - all the years in the closet might give you an impression on where he stood on this topic - but because he decided that this upcoming year, he will try and change his behaviour. Become more aware of himself and others. Just like his therapist told him. Because all that his therapist told him always was very wise, smart and reasonable. Just like that time when she said he has to treat himself once in a while. Oh, he took that advice to heart. And followed it ever since, every time he could.

For example, like, right now, while standing in the biggest LEGO store he had seen in his life, located in the Duty Free area of Toronto Airport. The only issue was that it was 3:34AM. And his flight departure was scheduled to 3:20AM.

"Shit," he squeaked, rushing outside the store towards gate E5. Maybe there was a slight, tiny chance that the flight got delayed and he simply didn't remember (that happened to him once already, so it wouldn't be a surprise)? "No, no, no..."

BOOM.

Wet- no, hot. Too hot.

"Fuck!" Frank looked down at the person who bumped into him, spilling their coffee all over him.

"Oh god I am sorry," the guy proclaimed, waiving his hands in panic. "I'm so sorry..."

At first glance Frank thought that the guy might have spilled the coffee over himself too, but then he realised that that's just how his clothes looked like: stained and old, like those of a mechanic, who's worked in a workshop for most of his life. Frank looked at the guy's face, to judge wether this description was suitable, and...

Hot- no, annoying. Too annoying.

"What the fuck, man?" snapped Frank. "I missed my flight!"

Oop. His therapist wouldn't like that. This is definitely not honesty. This was the exact opposite. And, considering he affected other people with it, if this little scene ever comes up in one of their sessions, they'd have to go back like two months of therapy. And Frank didn't want that. He wanted the progress. Wanted the changes. He wanted to be Ok. So he took a breath listening to the other guy's rambling.

He had a name tag on his suspenders: LEO VALDEZ. Frank hummed to himself.

"So you agree?" the guy asked, probably thinking Frank replied to something he said.

Frank blinked. "Uh. What?"

"I can buy you another ticket. For the next flight. Wherever you're headed."

Frank blinked again.

His original ticket's cost was laughable, which meant that the plane was, probably, just a bus with two cupboard wings; but the next flight was by an actual Respectable Airplane Company, and the cost looked accordingly. But if the guy - Leo - insisted... Frank was greedy and selfish enough to accept the offer. Besides, he really needed to get home, to Vancouver. To his grandma.

"Fine," he said. "I- thanks, I guess. But, uh... Aren't you here for a flight either?"

Leo grinned. Frank reminded himself that honesty is not always a blessing.

"I work here," he said. "I mean, not here, here... But in airports, generally. And sometimes I sneak in, to catch a ride. Have a thing for flying metal things. Remind me of dragons"

"Or transformers," Frank snorted.

"Do not bring this shit show into this engineeringly skilled household."

"Wow," Frank raiser his eyebrows. "You must be fun at parties."

Leo placed a hand on his chest. "I am hilarious at parties, thank you very much."

"You're welcome," chuckled Frank.

For some reason, Frank hoped for Leo to turn out an annoying asshole, so he'd have a valid reason to absolutely hate his guts for making him sit at a random McDonald's in the middle of the night, in coffee soaked clothes. But his hoped were in vain, because Leo McShizzle was, indeed, fucking hilarious. Again, not that Frank would admit that to himself. Or to Leo.

When the guy joked, Frank would roll his eyes, or - if the joke was actually good - continue the bit with a sarcastic tone. And maybe he did grin like once. Or twice. But it's not like Leo was looking at him when it happened, so it doesn't matter. He doesn't have to admit it happened. His therapist won't know. No one will, actually. This will remain his little Airport secret. Because that's what all kinds of Airport affairs always were.

"You can't say that," Frank shook his head while they were waiting in line for ticket purchase.

"Why not?" Leo asked, fiddling with his belt.

"Because it's bullshit," Frank said. "Take it from me, I'm a security guard."

"Well," Leo shrugged. "This doesn't change the fact that this place is shit, and so is the security."

"It's the biggest airport in the country."

"That's the thing!" Leo waved his hand. "Here you have a false sense of security."

Frank raised his hand. "I wouldn't say it's false."

"Listen, I've been behind the scenes. And let me tell you; you have no idea how easy it would be, to take that whole building under one single person's control."

"It sounds like something they'd arrest you for saying."

"I thought you would agree with me," Leo scoffed. "As a security guard."

"Well, I don't work at airports. Don't have the right level of license yet. For now I'm more like... School and Kindergarten kind of guard."

"The Fun Ruiner," Leo nodded. "Suits you."

"Hey, I don't ruin anyone's fun!" Frank said, offended. "Kids have to be in school when they are supposed to."

"Mhm," Leo said, gravely, as if confirming a diagnosis. "Just like I thought. A rare case of a Good Cop."

"Shut up."

"Of course, darling," Leo winked at him.

That was the last thing he said before buying Frank his new ticket. And since then things turned kind of... weird. There was no reason for Leo to stay with him, but he still did. And it was annoying. Of course it was. It had to be. Because Frank "came out as bisexual only because of two of his best friends" Zhang couldn't develop a crush on a dude who spilled coffee on him. That wouldn't work. Normal couples sometimes recreated their first meetings after years of dating, and Frank dreaded the day that idea might be brought up, because, well- no. Stop. Wait. Why was he thinking about it?! He didn't even know the guy, so why was he...?

His thoughts were interrupted by an announcement. A flight - Frank's flight - was departing in 50 minutes and all the passengers had been invited to check in and board the plane.

"Well," Leo smiled. "Guess that's my cue. My break was over about an hour ago but, you know, considering I kind of ruined all of your plans for the day..."

"Eh, you know..." Frank shrugged, awkwardly. "Happens."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Not what you said at first."

"I was very much pissed at first," Frank admitted. Honestly.

"That checks out," Leo nodded. "And you know who has to check in?"

Frank felt his eyes roll back, towards the ceiling. "Oh, my god..."

"I'm right here, no need to call me."

"You- oh, shut up."

"That's how you part ways with me? Really?" Leo clicked his tongue. "Who raised you?"

"My mom told me not to talk to strangers," Frank said and, picking up his bag, started walking towards his gate.

"A stanger?! Is that how you call it now?!" cried Leo. "I thought we had a binding moment!"

"Don't remember. Didn't happen!"

Except that it did. It did happen. He did remember. And the worst of all: he didn't forget. But even so, the universe decided to remind him of that again about three months later, when Frank was being late to his shift at his new job at the Vancouver airport, and bumped into someone, spilling his tea all over them.

@yourlocalmorosoph this is a devotion for you, and a thank you for helping me to come up with the whole thing to @leovaldezdefender 🥹✨

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part ten

authors note: none

song inspo: “with me” by destiny’s child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

words: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’ve never been a person who was big on holidays. 

Never saw the massive appeal. Easter was annoying cause everyone and they mama showed up to church just to show off their kids silk press and frilly dresses. Halloween was too dark. Valentine’s Day was always a toss up, depending on where you and Amir were at the moment. And 4th of July….fuck America. 

But Christmas…..in recent years, it’s starting to become a holiday you really enjoy. You owe a lot of that to Callie and her pure joy and excitement at the "most wonderful time of the year," for gifts, yes, but she loved celebrating “baby Jesus” birthday just as much.

And you couldn't deny that your town was most beautiful this time of year. Stunningly decorated, there wasn’t a non-resident building in town that wasn’t dressed down in HGTV worthy Christmas decor. Walking through town really felt like walking on the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

And the activities were endless, especially for kids. 

Hence your current whereabouts, sitting on a bench with your mom as Callie partakes with a group of other kids in a workshop with some of ‘Santa’s elves’. Your eyes land on her more often than not, knowing you live in a safe area but never wanting to take any chances. You also notice how talkative she is at the table she’s seated at with another little girl. You smile. Seeing her interact with other kids always makes you happy. Once she gets past her initial shyness, you definitely see sprinkles of your extroverted personality in her. 

Checking your phone from a text from Joe, you can’t avoid the pout when met with empty notifications. 

Your mom, forever perceptive, notices this. “When does he come in?”

“Tomorrow,” you answer, unable to contain the smile on your face. You’re not sure who’s more excited about Joe’s return: you or Callie. Probably her, but you’re not that far behind. 

And not even just for sexual reasons. Yes, that’s definitely up there, but also expected. Because one thing about sex with Joe: it’s addictive. 

Having him like that for the first time in years awakened things in you that you forgot existed. No one could make you come like he could, and he knew it, hence his smug disposition during sex. One thing you were starting to realize was that Joe fucked like Roman, but he made love like Joe, and it was a deadly combination. 

You woke up alone the morning after the date, but you knew that was the case because this man literally flew out for one night just to take you out. And dick you down. 

But Joe being Joe, left you a note, like something out of one of those corny but sweet, romantic indie movies. It was thoughtful, but he’s always been thoughtful. 

That shouldn’t have surprised you. 

Just like you shouldn’t have been surprised to be woken up by Callie jumping on your bed, happy to see you and wanting to catch you up on her fun sleepover with Alexis. Alexis, who made sure that the first thing that she checked was the nightstand where that Plan B absolutely was nowhere to be found. 

Used and discarded in your waste bin. That’s where it was. 

The smirk she sent your way, you just knew she was gonna have a million and one questions. And clearly waiting for Callie to not be present to have that conversation was too much waiting, hence your phone buzzing with texts while you watched Wish with Callie.

Alexis: You dirty whore! I wanna know everything.

You: What’s there to tell? You don’t see the box anymore, do you?

Alexis: Bitch, you know what I mean. It was good, wasn’t it?

You: Girl…..good ain’t the word for it. 😩 I’m so tired and sore right now. He wore my ass out. Had me up all night.

You: I stopped counting after 4.

Alexis: 😖 You have no idea how much I love this for you.

Alexis: I’m also gonna take a wild guess that since you took the plan b, ya’ll didn’t use protection? He came in you, didn’t he? 👀

You: Every.single.time.

Alexis: Oh, he down baddddd. 

Alexis: Shit, do I need to get you some pregnancy tests?

You: NO. It was just last night…..I may have to get on BC because that can’t be a regular thing.

Alexis: Well….don’t you want more kids anyway? 

You: We’re not even dating, and you want me to get knocked up by this man?

Alexis: Bitch, you already have one child. Give her a sibling. 

Alexis: And what do you mean you’re not dating? That is your man. Just own it. 

It was a fun exchange, as are most things with Alexis, and it brought up a valid point. Joe was gonna have to either wrap it up or you were going to need to get back on the pill. 

And you knew better than to tell her that this man literally asked you if you were on the pill and said good when you told him you weren’t. You haven’t given yourself time to process that….later date and time. 

But Joe’s definitely been the subject of several dreams that left you waking up feeling aroused. Hence you counting down the days until his return, yes for Callie, but also because you desperately need your insides rearranged in a way only he can fulfill. 

And you also just miss him. 

Plain and simple.  

“I take it things are going well between ya’ll.” Your mom gives you that all-knowing look that all moms possess. You roll your eyes, and she playfully nudges your shoulder. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. You deserve to be happy. You and Callie.”

“We’re just….I don’t know what we’re doing exactly, but….it is going well.” It seems a bit silly to not acknowledge that you and Joe are dating again, but until he confirms as such, you lean on the side of caution. Granted, you know he’s not fucking anyone else, and you damn sure aren’t either. You speak to each other as often as you can, and there’s seldom a conversation that occurs without one or both of you hinting at the mindblowing sex you’ll have once he returns.

Nope….not dating at all.

“Well, he’s divorced now, isn’t he?” You’d eventually caught your mom up on that important update, knowing that she would never really approve if his wife was still in the picture. She wouldn’t outright say anything, but her demeanor would be telling enough. 

“Yes, but—”

“And he’s obviously very interested in being with you. I don’t need to ask if you’re interested in being with him, and Callie would do well in a healthy two-parent household.”

At that, you stop walking, arm in front of your mom. “Mama….you did amazing raising me all on your own. I owe you so much that it’d be impossible for me to ever repay you.” And it’s the truth. Definitely age and becoming a single mother yourself showed you just how much your mom sacrificed to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly. Your mom truly is your hero.

She smiles warmly, placing her gloved hand over yours. “I appreciate that, baby. But, if you don’t have to struggle, why should you? Joseph seems keen on being in Callie’s life and yours as well. What’s holding you back?”

You chuckle at her final question. “That’s more or less the same thing Alexis said.” Only gone for a couple days, you're starting to miss her too. She's been a great source of support the past couple weeks.

“I always did like that girl. A bit on the wild side, but I like her.” Oh, if your mom knew the extent of what that wildness looked like. Not just for Alexis but yourself. You’re certain your mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were a regular at the strip club in college. So much so that the owner knew you by name and often propositioned you for a job.

You’d be lying if you tried to say you didn’t consider it from time to time. 

“Maybe it’s how we got together,” you guess aloud, sitting back against the bench. “I think I still have some guilt about doing that to his wife.” 

It’s a take you’ve found yourself thinking about more and more over the past couple weeks. She may be out of the picture now, but she wasn’t when you first started messing with Joe. She was still his wife the first time you let him take you to bed, and that’s left a stain on your conscience you’re not entirely sure how to rid yourself of.

“I understand that entirely.” Hearing the change in your mom’s tone has you wondering if it’s truly wise to have this conversation with her. Is it still a sensitive subject? “But it seems they divorced before you even came back in the picture. Do you know why they finally went their separate ways?”

Shaking your head, you inform, “no, and a part of me wants to ask, but when he told me about it, I could see it was difficult for him. He had this….sadness in his eyes. And I don’t think it was because of the divorce itself but….something else.” 

A part of you wants to ask him again, feels like it’s information you should know. But, another part of you doesn’t want to pry too much. If it’s a sensitive subject, you don’t want to reopen any open wounds. 

“Well, if this continues to progress, it may be a discussion that needs to happen. Even if it just gives you a peace of mind.” You know she’s right. It’s just not something you’re ecstatic about having to do. “And you probably should also start thinking about what changes you may have to make for this to continue to work.”

Confused, you ask, “what do you mean?”

“He can’t keep flying in and out sporadically just to see his child. Or you. That’s not fair to any of ya’ll and not sustainable. You’re gonna have to relocate to wherever he lives.”

That….that is not something you’ve thought about until this very moment. You know Joe bends over backwards to make these visits work, but it hadn't occurred to you how long this dynamic could continue. 

Your mom must see the wheels in your head turning, adding, “and think about Callie, once she finds out that’s her daddy, she’s gonna wanna be around him as much as possible. It could be easier if you’re a bit closer.”

You don’t know how true or untrue your mom’s take is, but it’s also another conversation that will have to happen between you and Joe. He’s always on the road in general. Will moving really do anything to help with his visits? Relocating is something you’ve never ever thought about. This is your home. You grew up here. Callie was growing up here. You always saw her growing up here.

But, that was also a version where Joe wasn’t in her life. Now he is. So, of course, some things would change.

You just didn’t imagine that is what would change.

Even if your mom’s guidance now has you wondering what it would be like to have a house together, the three of you, Callie, with an actual backyard she can run around in. Not just limited to the space of your apartment. 

“I’m gonna go say hi to Gloria.” She taps your leg, gesturing to her friend’s store. “I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, you sit there, focusing on Callie instead of the nuggets of wisdom your mom just dropped on you. 

“Long time no see, stranger.”

And just like that, you’re regretting ever agreeing to leave your place. You should have just done something at the apartment with Callie. Invited your mom over. Baked some cookies and shit. 

Crossing your arms, you refuse to look his way. “Amir, it’s the happiest time of the year. Please leave me alone, and let me stay in my happy place.”

“You’re still upset with me?” He seems genuinely surprised at this, like you cussing him out in front of your daughter’s preschool wasn’t a good indicator of how upset you were. “Gotta let that shit go.”

“I don’t have to do anything but live, be black, and love my child.” Scooting to your edge of the bench, you tell him again. “Now go away.”

“We clearly need to talk this out—”

“No, we don’t need to do anything because there is no we.” You catch Callie’s eyes and remind yourself that you don’t need a part two of the last time. “I told you before. That’s done and over with. In all areas. You’ll never see my name pop up on your phone ever again.”

And that’s a promise.

“You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” He’s growing annoyed. If only you cared. “Stop playing. What you doing tomorrow?”

“Sitting on my man’s face.”

Your answer seems to take him back. “He still around?” You don’t say anything. “You’re not stupid enough to be fucking him again, are you?”

“Amir, the only reason I was ever fucking you was because he wasn’t around, but he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. And without hurting your feelings before Christmas, I can promise you, dick is not something I will ever want or need from anyone else ever again.”

He scoffs, just looking at you with disgust. “Mariah was right. That nigga really does have you acting different.”

At that, your head snaps in his direction. “What did you just say?” Instantly, you see it. The regret in his face in realizing he’s fucked up. “Why were you talking to Mariah?” Your best friend couldn’t take your calls or texts, but she had time to fill your ex in on your private life? “When?”

He looks off, trying to hide the guilty expression you’ve already clocked. “We ran into each other at the store the other day.”

Lie.

Scoffing, you lean back against the bench. And you laugh. All you can do is laugh because never in a million years would you have put these pieces together, but it makes so much sense. 

“Yeah, you can get the fuck away from me. Now.” Seeing him about to open his mouth again, you decide to separate yourself. “Fine. I’ll leave.” 

And you do just that, moving to another available bench where you can still keep a close eye on Callie. It seems they’re nearing the end of the activity. One glance over to your previous seat, you see that Amir is gone. 

Good. 

Pulling out your phone, you send a simple text. 

You: If you were too busy riding Amir’s average dick to message me back, you could have just said so.

There’s barely any time for you to slide your phone back into your purse when it beeps.

Mariah: ??????

It actually takes a lot in you not to call and cuss her out right then and there. You’ve been trying to get in contact with her for weeks and the minute you send her that, she remembers how to reply?

“Mommy!”

You’re grateful for Callie’s distraction. Smile on your face, you see she’s approached you with not only the little girl at her table but a man also wearing a friendly expression.

“This is my new friend! Her name is Taylor!” Taylor appears to be the same or around the same age as Callie, box braids styled into two space buns, and she and Callie share giggles like they’ve been friends for years. In a weird sort of way, she reminds you a lot of Callie. 

“It seems the girls have connected,” the man speaks with a chuckle. He offers his hand. “I’m Darius. Taylor’s dad.”

Your phone goes off and you quickly glance, hoping it’s Joe.

Mariah: Can we talk?

Instantly, you reorient yourself to the conversation at hand. 

“It appears they have,” you agree, offering your name and asking, “are you from around here?”

“Naw. Just visiting some family. Me and my wife.” He looks around. “She should be somewhere around here. Her parents only live about an hour out, so they came to meet us.”

“Oh, cool.” Glancing at the girls, you recognize that plotting look on Callie’s face and wait patiently. Coyly, you share with Darius, “I believe a request is coming.”

“Oh, most definitely.” 

Sure enough, Callie is holding onto your leg, face peering up at you. “Mommy, can we see the fireworks tomorrow?” That’s certainly not what you expected to hear her ask. Callie has never been too big on fireworks. When she was younger, you’d have to lay in bed with her and soothe her to sleep because they made her nervous. Now she wants to go to an actual show? “Taylor is going too, right Taylor?”

Taylor nods happily. “And my mommy and grandma and grandpa.”

It's like the mentioning of additional parties triggers something for her, Callie offering suddenly, “Joe can come too!” 

That gives you a pause. Joe’s never gone out in public with the two of you, outside of the hospital, but that doesn’t necessarily count. It was an emergency, not happy hour.

There’s a bit of anxiety, even though you know your town is the perfect place to do so. You’d put your head on the chopping board that less than five people would actually approach him, asking for autographs and such. They might recognize him, but they’d never approach. 

It’ll also be the first time Callie can refer to him as her father instead of just Joe.

Finally deciding, you answer, “if you want to, baby.” 

You and Darius share a laugh as the girls rejoice together. He pulls out his phone and offers, “why don’t I give you my wife’s number? You two can communicate regarding the meetup and whatnot.”

“Yeah, of course.” Exchanging information, you program Bianca Johnson into your phone, sending her a text after Darius says he’s already messaged her regarding Taylors new best friend. 

It’s in programming the number though that you see an incoming call from Mariah. It’s an immediate decline. 

Mariah: Would you pick up the damn phone, please?

Navigating to her thread, you put her on mute. It’s almost Christmas. You refuse to allow her or anyone else to ruing this for you or Callie. 

________

Personally, you believe that there should be a mandatory set time for Children to wake up on Christmas. Preferably, any time after 10am. 12pm would be even better but highly unlikely given most kids go to bed extra early on Christmas Eve. Callie is no different. You and Joe get her down by 6:30pm which should have given you ample time to bake cookies, finish wrapping her gifts, the whole nine yards.

If only you two had a better sense of self-control, because the minute you were confident Callie was out for the night, he had you bent over the kitchen island. And that was….that was fine, because you’d been thinking about him being inside you from the moment he stepped foot in your place. Hell, from the moment he left. 

But then you somehow ended up riding him on the living room floor, his back propped up against the sofa as you bounced on his dick, surrounded by the toys you should have been wrapping for your daughter. And while you eventually did get the gifts wrapped and cookies baked, you weren’t even able to change from out of your towel and into pajamas when this man propped you on your bathroom counter, spread your legs, and ate you out like he’d been fasting for 40 days and 40 nights. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising. Joe’s always had a big appetite for sex, for you. Not that you were any better. And the fact of the matter was that having a kid meant you had to take advantage of the little free time you had, which you clearly did. 

But it was now coming to bite you in the ass, because it’s goddamn 9 o’clock in the morning, and Callie is jumping up and down on your bed when all you want to do is sleep for another ten hours.

“Mommy! Joe! Santa came!”

It’s nearly impossible to hold in your groan, so you suppress it by turning over and pressing yourself into Joe. Of course, he’s already got his arm around you, holding you against his body. He’s also still knocked out. 

Finding the strength, you shove on his chest. “Wake up.” It’s a bit incoherent, sleep still heavy in you and hindering your speech. Blinking your eyes open to allow the sun shining from the open curtains (courtesy of Callie) to motivate you to get your ass up, you punch him in his stomach. “Joe.”

He grunts, and you smile. “She’s up.” 

Pleased with the fulfillment of her alarm clock duties, she jumps off the bed, yelling, “come on!”

At that, you sit up from the mattress, scolding her, “Calista Manaia Anoa’i, you got one more time to jump off this bed, sis!” Looking back to see Joe still trying to wake up, you shove him again. “You better get your daughter before she gets punished on Christmas.”

This helps to stir him as he lays on his back, hand on his forehead. “Leave her alone.” It takes a minute for you to refocus. His voice in general is sexy as hell, but that morning voice is something dangerous. 

“Her ass is always trying to jump on and off shit.” Kicking off the blankets, you stretch and make your way into the bathroom to do your hygiene routine. Joe is not too far behind, coming in a few minutes later, slapping your ass as you’re bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. “Behave,” you warn. The two of you share the sink and counter space to get ready with you finishing first. 

Back in the room, you make up the bed and check your phone, sending out a few, quick Merry Christmas texts, Bianca included. Even though you’ve only texted since yesterday, she seems pretty chill and you have a couple of things in common, kids around the same age, both working as teachers. It’s just unfortunate that she lives further down South. You’re not sure how you’re gonna break that to Callie, but that’s a task for another day. 

Today is an exciting, happy occasion, and you’re not gonna let anything or anyone ruin it. 

Joe is suddenly behind you, arms around your waist and mouth on the side of your neck. 

“Merry Christmas, baby” he murmurs, pressing kisses against your skin. 

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you turn around and lean up to kiss him. “Merry Christmas.” Hands on his chest, you ask, “You ready?”

He looks at you, clearly thinking about what you’re asking. This is what he’d been building up to, but you’re certain there’s some level of anxiety. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he finally answers. You’re not certain if he’s speaking more to you or himself. 

“She’s gonna be happy, Joe. I promise.” Stealing one more kiss, you take his hand. “Come on. She’s gonna start getting impa—”

“Come on!” She shouts from the living room, and you give him a look. 

“That’s your child.” His chuckle follows you out of the bedroom and into the living room where Callie is literally bouncing on the heels of her feet near the Christmas tree. You’re not entirely certain, but you could have sworn there weren’t as many gifts there when you left for your shower and eventually bed. 

“It’s Christmas!” Running over to Joe who swoops her up and kisses her cheek as she tells him Merry Christmas, you patiently wait for your turn, giving her a kiss and hug too before she’s pulling the both of you over to the tree. 

Using your phone, you snap photos and record intermittent videos of her opening her gifts. And in doing so, you’re certain Joe added a couple more when you were in the shower. He’s definitely that dad who doesn’t see an issue with spoiling the shit out of his kid. And as long as Callie remains kind and respectful, you won’t stop him. He’ll definitely hear about it tonight, but you won’t actually interfere.

Alexa playing Christmas songs in the background helps to set the tone as well. Mostly Mariah Carey because it’s literal law that one must listen to All I Want for Christmas is You on Christmas day. Really, starting the day after Halloween. 

You don’t make the rules. 

Literal fucking law. 

Callie suddenly pulls a gift, small and rectangular shaped, that you definitely don’t remember wrapping. “Mommy, it’s for you!” Thinking it’s something she made for you, you put your phone down and take it only to recognize that the writing is clearly too nice to be written by a child, not to mention that it has your name instead of mommy. 

Your eyes land on him. “Joe….what is this?”

“Open it,” he encourages, waiting patiently.

Still in somewhat belief he would actually get you something, you rip off the packaging and gasp. You almost drop it reading the brand name written in gold calligraphy. “Chanel? Thee Chanel?”

“Who’s Chanel, mommy?” 

“It’s a brand, baby,” you answer, distracted because you’re still stuck on the fact that you’re actually holding in your hand something that had to cost at least a thousand dollars. If not a couple thousand. 

“Open it, mommy,” Callie presses. This girl is both nosy but also loves to see people receive gifts. 

And so, you open it, gasping louder this time.

“Joe…..” It’s absolutely stunning, the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. Gold. An intricately decorated ‘C’ pendant with a diamond in the middle. C for Chanel for most people. C for your heartbeat for you. “It’s beautiful….” 

He moves over to you, helping to remove it from the box. As your hair is already up in a messy bun, he has no difficulty placing it around you, as Callie exclaims happily, “it’s a C!.”

“C for Callie,” you answer her, cupping her cheek before turning to Joe. “Thank you…..” Pulling him in for a hug, there’s something so emotional about this moment, something pure. You’ve never felt so cared for by anyone.

Never felt so loved. 

He kisses your temple. “You never have to thank me for anything I do for you.” 

Hating the fact that tears are brimming your eyes, you punch his shoulder, needing to not be so emotional. “You should have told me you got me something. Now I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.” 

Thumb caressing your cheek, he answers, softly. “You already did.” Confused, his eyes discreetly focus on Callie who’s back trying to figure out which toy she wants to play with first.

That….that does something to you. 

You look at him, ready to say something, when you see it. See it in his eyes. A deep level of appreciation that indicates a story, a reason as to why this means the world to him. There’s something there. Something more he’s not saying, but you know it’s neither the time nor the place. 

Now….now is the time for something else. 

“Baby.” It’s surprisingly easy to catch Callie’s attention, so you pat the space in between the two of you. “Come here. We need to talk to you about something.” 

Wordlessly, she plops right between ya’ll with that naturally inquisitive expression. 

“Callie….” Joe feeling a bit nervous made sense to you, and you expected as such. But you never thought about your own trepidation in this moment. It’s difficult, but you do your best to push it away. “Do you….do you remember when you asked me about your dad?” She nods. “And why…..why you didn’t have one?”

She nods again, Joe this time grabbing her attention. “Callie, do you know why I came back in your mom’s life?”

She thinks about his question, answering tentatively, “because you missed mommy?”

He chuckles. “That’s true. I did miss her. A lot.” You try not to think too much about his words, to not make this moment about you or you and him. It’s about Callie. “But, I mostly came back because I wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

He nods, “Calista, you are the sweetest, kindest, and smartest kid that I have ever met. And I love every second that I get to spend with you.” Joe brings his hand to gently palm her face. “And I especially love being your dad.” 

You’re not quite sure if you’re breathing or even fully present in the few seconds it takes for Callie to process what he’s just said. But then, you see it, a smile that could light up times square. “Really?” She snaps her head in your direction, looking for confirmation. “Mommy, is Joe really my daddy?”

Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes. Damn feelings. You’ve been way too emotional lately. “He sure is, baby.” 

Squealing, she literally throws herself against him, hugging him tightly. “It’s the best Christmas ever!”

“I love you, Callie.” Joe shuts his eyes, taking in this moment, kissing the top of her head. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you too, daddy!” If you could capture this moment, capture those words leaving her mouth, forever keep them as a keepsake to be preserved for all time, you would. Because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted for her. To know she’s wanted and loved by both her parents. And finally, that moment is no longer a hope but a reality. 

“Wait!” She suddenly pulls away, grabbing the picture she’d drawn for Joe and given to him as a Christmas gift. “I’ll be back!”

He looks over at you. “What is she—” 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you answer with a murmur, still partially overcome with emotion. 

However, Callie is back in a matter of minutes with that beautiful smile on her face. Flipping it over, she exclaims, “I fixed it.” 

Your eyes immediately land on what she “fixed,” and your heart swells. She’s crossed out Joe’s name with a black marker and instead written above it “daddy.”

“I love it.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you move closer to him, laying against his side. Wanting to be with him in this precious moment. 

Callie wasn’t lying.

This truly is the best Christmas. 

________

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” 

Callie’s animated voice somehow travels to you and Joe despite all of the hustle and bustle occurring around you, the sea of bodies waiting for the fireworks show to begin. There’s not much distance between the two of you and her, enough for Joe to grab her if need be. 

You walk close with him, you hands locked around his bicep.

His discomfort is obvious, so you assure, “relax. You’re not the tribal chief around here.” He glances at you. “They may notice you, but they’ll leave you alone. Especially since it’s Christmas.”

This seems to relieve him as she explains, “tonight is about her. I just don’t want to take away from that.”

“And you won’t, I promise. Just….just be present in this moment.” He takes your hand in his, giving a gentle squeeze. Continuing to walk with him, your eyes land on Taylor, Darius, and a woman who, even from a distance, looks vaguely familiar. 

“Taylor!” 

Callie rushes over to her new best friend, and the two embrace. You almost wish you had your phone out to take a picture. The woman wears a friendly smile, but instantly, something feels off. She approaches you, asking, “Y/N?”

Nodding, you’re shocked when she pulls you in for a hug and then apologizes. “I'm sorry. I’m a hugger, and I just feel like I know you already.” 

Callie takes this moment to jump back in the conversation, rushing over to Joe and introducing, “this is my daddy!”

That settles some of your anxiety. You’re not certain you’ll ever get tired of hearing her refer to him as such, and you know he won’t either.

“Man, uhh, hi, nice–nice to meet you.” Immediately, you know that Darius most definitely recognizes Joe. “Big fan.”

“Thanks, man.” Joe, understandably, keeps it simple, and you clear your throat. 

“Thank you for arranging this with us. Callie seems to really like Taylor.”

“Taylor too,” Bianca expresses with a smile, as you realize she also has dimples. It’s a little thing, stupid, but as much as you try, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. “I swear, you would think they’ve known each other for years.”

Joe chuckles. “They’ve hit it off pretty well.”

“I’m sorry.” You hate being so off-putting and direct, especially given all of your text exchanges with this woman have gone so well, but you have to ask, “have we m—-”

“Bianca!”

A woman’s voice calls out, interrupting your conversation. 

She looks past you and smiles, waving whoever it is over. “My parents,” she informs. “Over here!”

Callie and Taylor are immersed in a conversation, as you make eye-contact with Joe who gives you that ‘what’s wrong?’ expression. Answering truthfully, you shrug and murmur, “I don’t know.”

The presence of Taylor’s grandparents snatches her attention from Callie. “Grandpa!”

Turning around, you manage a small, inauthentic smile to introduce yourself when you see it. And everything is suddenly ten ways wrong. 

There’s a brief second where you question yourself, question your vision, question your entire existence. But as he smiles, holding and kissing his grandchild on the cheek, you just know, know that you’re not wrong.

“Dad,” Bianca speaks, but you’re someplace else, someplace much different. “This is Y/N and…..”

She’s talking, but you’ve completely dissociated. You can’t say anything, paralyzed with shock and an overwhelming feeling of heartache. 

That’s why she looked so familiar. You saw her that day at the precinct, coming into his office to inform him of her sibling’s misbehavior. This is his daughter.

This is your sister. 

The daughter he picked over you. 

And this is your father. 

You’re going to be sick.

Partially aware of Joe’s suddenly cautious gaze on you, you place one hand over your stomach. “Excuse….excuse me….I—” You feel like you’re going to pass out, like four walls surround and are gradually closing in on you. Your throat is about to close up. “I have to go.” And you run, you run as far as your legs can take you, away from that situation, away from that visceral blast from the past, away from the overwhelming emotions that are threatening to overcome you. 

And you don’t stop.

[girlgenius1111]

platonic fics

barça femeni x reader

you can let it go p1. you talk of the pain like it's all alright p2. you can start a family who will always show you love p3. one step forward and three steps back p4.

don't tell Leah

pop back up p1 key to recovery p2

i can take care of myself

no one should be alone on christmas

worry about them p1 learn your lesson p2

always enough for us

don't you trust me?

wrong.

adrenaline junkie p1 with a high comes a crash p2 aftershocks p3 crumbling under pressure p4

i don't know why i am the way i am

you can face this

screaming underwater p1 wavin' from the shore p2

not what you think

unknowns

responsibility p1 by your side p2

turbulence

contact

arsenal wfc x reader

i could change up my body and change up my face

don't let this darkness fool you

you can’t keep secrets from us

engen!reader sol's masterlist

putellas!reader

when i break, it's in a million pieces chap 1 shining just for you chap 2 all i do is try, try, try chap 3

young, drunk, and alone

i'll make it through the winter if it kills me p1 i'll angel in the snow until i'm worthy p2

hallmarks of sisterhood

overworked

throw it all away part 1 part 2

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 2

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

Asra propaganda:

“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33 

Idk I just appreciate him so much”

"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"

"He is so caring!! Anyone who says he is boring or his 'route' was boring is a LIAR or didn't really understand his character! He is such a sweet person

Asra propaganda on this poll doesn't even do him any justice!! He makes friends wherever he travels to , likes knitting for his familiar snake , is a sweetheart, WILL take care of you even in the lowest point of your life"

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

AITA: Beyond Evil Edition in Three Queries

aka, Han Juwon Experiences The Darkest Timeline of A Hallmark Channel Romantic Comedy

*wherein I asked myself where would Juwon go for help with his problems and the answer was, obviously an anonymous forum online that offers dubious advice)*

AITA for Having, Like, Standards?

I (M, 27) just moved from a large city to a small town and accepted a major downgrade in my job position for personal reasons. However, my new coworkers (M, range of ages) have made my life extremely difficult. I should clarify that I have OCD and general anxiety disorder, and I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with people, or sharing anything.

I tried to bring a positive attitude to my new life, but within the first 24 hours of my being here, I was violently dragged through reed fields, discovered the body of a total stranger, got sexually harassed by a serial killer (M, 40) from my workplace, and was made to endure a social outing with coworkers. Understandably, I acted out a little. AITA?

Update: no I will not elaborate. Just answer the question.

AITA for Creating A Toxic Work Environment Even Though There Were (Mostly) Good Intentions?

I (M, 27) recently made a series of occupational choices that seemed logical at the time but which I have since learned are not good for anyone.

Context, since you’re all so concerned about that: Essentially, I pseudo-framed a couple of people for tiny crimes with the intent of flushing out dangerous criminals (to the people who asked during my last query, I will not be sharing personal information)

In fairness, and to head off criticism from this unruly website, I should point out that one of these people recently assaulted me with dairy products. The other has been unprofessional at work, dispensing support and wisdom that borders on paternal (actual paternal, not my own—you know what, never mind) behavior. Both are very loyal to one of my coworkers (M, 40s) who I reasonably believed to be a serial killer. That belief has been derailed somewhat by the discovery that he is not, in fact, a serial killer.

This entire situation (his fault) has somehow led to an awkward series of workplace and butcher shop encounters in an insular and frankly criminal-ridden small town, as well as several HR-worthy situations that I cannot be held responsible for. Basements are essentially public spaces.

AITA?

AITA for Choosing To Side With My Country Boy Crush Over My Mean City Dad?

I (M, 27) have been going through it. My workplace romance with the man I originally believed to be a serial killer (M, 40) is suffering ever since we learned (through legal and necessary means) that my own father is responsible for multiple crimes connected to the aforementioned paramour. I’ve been reading comments and questions from my previous queries and I promise I took them to heart, and have found opportunities to 1.) let him put me in handcuffs, 2.) invest in fashionable outerwear, 3.) try to get framed for murder in his place (not feeling appreciated for my efforts here).

However, recent events have led to some strain in the relationship. So I’ve decided to go to hell for him. To be clear, since many of you seemed concerned about my “safety” and “sanity”—this is a perfectly reasonable course of action. However, it does involve betraying a verbally abusive parent in favor of a hot guy with great hair.

AITA?

Update: My boyfriend and dad are both in prison.

[merwgue]

Rhysand is often portrayed as this perfect, morally grey ruler, but when you take a closer look at his actions, it's obvious how messed up he really is. Let’s break down the so-called “benevolent” High Lord of the Night Court.

1. The Hewn City – The King of Torture? Rhysand's treatment of the people in Hewn City is straight-up barbaric. The way he holds power over them isn’t out of necessity or to “protect” them from worse rulers—it’s control through fear and violence. He tortures them, plays with their lives, and enjoys maintaining his iron grip on them. It's almost like he uses them as his personal stress toys. Is that really the hallmark of a just ruler? Sure, Hewn City isn’t full of saints, but for Rhys to stand on his high horse and act like he's saving everyone while still torturing his subjects? Hypocrisy at its finest.

2. Rhysand and Feyre – Let’s Talk About Consent Let’s not forget that he literally assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain. I don’t care how anyone tries to frame it as him “saving her” from Amarantha—there’s no excuse for the way he took away her agency. Rhys manipulated her, forced her into wearing those skimpy outfits, and paraded her around for his entertainment. All while pretending it was for the greater good. It's pretty damn disgusting how that gets brushed under the rug like it was some noble sacrifice when in reality, he robbed Feyre of her choices.

3. Planning to Execute Nesta – The Line Between Justice and Control Rhysand and his inner circle legit planned to execute Nesta, all because she didn’t fall in line. Nesta had her faults—hell, a lot of them—but threatening her life because she didn't act the way Rhys wanted? That's not justice; that's manipulation and control at its core. He wasn't trying to protect anyone. He was pissed that he couldn't control her, that she wasn't another cog in his perfect little machine of Night Court harmony.

4. Tamlin – Kicking a Man While He’s Down Say what you will about Tamlin, but there’s no denying that Rhysand completely overstepped every boundary when it came to him. The Night Court loves to preach about freedom, but Rhys had no problem strutting into Tamlin’s land, throwing it in his face, and making an already broken man feel like utter shit. There’s a difference between defending your own and downright antagonizing someone who’s in the depths of depression. At one point, he basically told Tamlin to end his own life. What kind of "savior" talks like that to someone who's clearly struggling? It's downright cruel.

5. The Night Court – A Dictatorship Wrapped in Pretty Words Rhysand's Night Court is sold to everyone as this place of freedom, where people can be who they truly are—but at what cost? If you cross Rhys or don’t fall in line with his vision, you either face his wrath, his torture, or his manipulation. He's not running a court; he's running a dictatorship where everything is fine as long as it aligns with his master plan. The fact that he keeps calling himself the “most powerful High Lord in history” just feeds into that massive god complex he has. The ego on this guy is unbelievable.

6. Double Standards – The Morality of Convenience Rhys preaches about freedom and respect, but he only seems to extend that to people he deems worthy. If you’re in his circle or someone he cares about, great—you get all the privileges. If not? Well, tough luck. He’ll trample over your land, threaten your life, or torture you into submission. The cherry on top? Everyone around him acts like he’s the greatest thing to happen to Prythian, and the fandom just eats it up.

So, yeah. Rhysand is fucked up. He’s not just morally grey—he’s power-hungry, manipulative, and borderline sadistic. His version of “ruling” the Night Court is as hypocritical as it gets. Benevolent High Lord? More like the king of self-righteous cruelty.

7. Locking Up Nesta – Rhysand’s Tamlin Moment Remember how everyone vilified Tamlin for locking Feyre up “for her own safety”? Sure, it was messed up, but the narrative painted him as this controlling, possessive villain because of it. Now, fast forward to Rhysand, who literally does the same thing to Nesta. She’s spiraling, yes, but instead of finding her real help or giving her space to heal, he decides to trap her in the House of Wind like a damn prisoner. He takes away her freedom, isolates her from the outside world, and forces her into a situation she clearly doesn’t want. How is that any different from what Tamlin did?

But here’s the kicker: Rhysand gets praised for it. Why? Because he’s Rhysand, the supposed hero, and everything he does is always “for the greater good,” right? It’s utter bullshit. He used the same controlling tactics on Nesta that Tamlin used on Feyre, but the fandom acts like he was being this saintly, tough-love older brother. What he did was textbook manipulation, stripping away Nesta’s autonomy because she didn’t fit into his perfect vision of what recovery should look like.

8. Forcing Recovery on Nesta – Ignoring Trauma Let’s not sugarcoat this: Rhysand locked up a woman who was using drinking as a coping mechanism and basically said, “Tough luck, you’re staying here until you fix yourself.” That's not helping; that’s punishing someone for their trauma. Nesta was in pain, lashing out and struggling to deal with what happened to her. Did she need help? Absolutely. But instead of offering her real emotional support, Rhys just forced her into a recovery program that suited his standards and timeline, not hers.

What makes this even worse is that Nesta was self-harming through drinking, and instead of addressing the root cause of her pain, Rhysand and his inner circle chose to control her like she was a problem that needed to be fixed, not a person who needed to be understood. There’s nothing noble about that.

9. Rhysand’s Hypocrisy – Tamlin vs. Himself This is where Rhysand’s hypocrisy really shines. He condemned Tamlin for being controlling, and Feyre (rightfully) left that toxic environment. But Rhys turns around and does the same thing to Nesta, and instead of being held accountable for it, he gets celebrated for “taking action.” How does that even make sense? It's such a double standard that it's almost laughable. Tamlin’s actions were wrong, but Rhysand’s were just as bad, if not worse, because he knew better. He knew what it felt like to be controlled, yet he did it anyway.

10. Stop Giving Rhys a Pass People need to stop giving Rhysand a pass for his behavior. He gets away with literal torture, manipulation, locking people up, and trampling over others' boundaries because he’s good at hiding it behind the facade of “protecting his court.” He’s not the hero people make him out to be. He’s just as flawed and fucked up as the people he claims to be better than.

At the end of the day, locking someone up—whether it’s Feyre in the Spring Court or Nesta in the House of Wind—is a violation of their autonomy. Rhysand isn't some hero swooping in to save the day. He's a controlling ruler who just happens to be good at spinning the narrative in his favor.

[dontsh0vethesun]

back in town

part one of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

fluff, lots of Christmas, hallmark movie cringe

for the sake of this fic, all characters are the same kind of age; ≈mid 20s

wc: 1.4k | part two

Serving customers their coffee has been an opportunity for a moment of peace lately. Wanda, as well as the remainder of your insufferable friends, had taken it upon themselves to set you up on dates. Somehow, their lack of success so far hasn’t managed to convince them of their matchmaking deficits.

So, during work hours, you’re bombarded with suggestions to which you decline time and time again. Apparently, being the Christmas season and all, it was a matter of extreme importance; the so-called ‘Christmas magic’ had to have a source of focus and, according to them, that was you.

You’d tried; the amount of boring and unsuccessful dates you’ve embarked on is almost embarrassing. You’ve had short lived relationships, fleeting flings, and so many blind dates you can’t even count them with all ten fingers. But none of them were right for you. None of the options were worthy to ‘cuddle up with by the fireplace’ or ‘entwine souls with beside a decorated tree’. Wanda had an optimistic take on your love life - you’d all be lying if you didn’t call her obsessed.

“C’mon, that girl in the bookstore was totally obsessed with you,” she spoke as soon as the customer in front of you had left with a smile and a cup of coffee in their hand.

“Wanda, please,” you groaned, busying yourself with the messed up counter, wiping down the surface hoping it’d will her away.

“She could be the one.”

“You say that about all of them,” you huffed with a laugh. She truly was a hopeless romantic. You hypothosise her obsession with your romantic endeavours is some haphazardly disguised attempt to draw away her own infatuation with a certain bookstore owner. It’s no coincidence you’re both in there so often and it’s definitely not because you have a crush on anybody there.

“Maybe this one’s different.”

“You always say that too,” you laughed. “What about you anyway? How about we get you a date with that woman you ogle, huh?”

“What woman? There isn’t a woman,” she defended, you saw right through her.

“The one that likes to give you discount on all those books you buy and never read. Agatha, is it?”

“Oh, look, you have a customer. I better get more coffee from the back,” she hurried out before rushing away.

Luckily your best friend seemed to have taken the hint for the time being and the next couple of hours passed with you working in your regular harmony.

“That man is always late, I swear,” Wanda spoke with a glance at the clock. Sam was meant to be in for his shift twenty minutes ago, though you find his lack of punctuality to be an endearing trait. And, as though his ears were burning, the man in question burst through the wreath-decorated door with quickened breaths from what you assumed to be a sprint into work.

“You will never guess who I just bumped into,” he shouted to you both as he pulled his coat off to replace it with the coffee shop apron.

“Santa?” Wanda grinned with an excitement an adult likely shouldn’t present herself with at the prospect.

“Better.”

“Nobody’s better than Santa,” she pouted.

“If it wasn’t an old guy in a red hat you’re gonna have a real sad boss to deal with,” you responded with a laugh.

“Well now I don’t wanna say,” he answered with a chuckle of his own.

“You can’t lead with that and not tell us,” Wanda countered with a poke to his arm.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“You’re kidding.”

The pair of you answered him at the same time, a mirrored disapproval in your tones.

“Nope. She’s here for the holidays.”

“What, New York’s not good enough for her anymore?” you uttered in annoyance, rolling your eyes before plastering on an appeasing smile to the customer that approached.

“I didn’t think the small town Christmas vibe fit her new Scrooge persona,” Wanda added with an equally annoyed voice.

“I dunno, I didn’t talk to her much, I came to tell you two. You know I like the gossip,” Sam answered with a smile, though he wasn’t so pleased with her appearance either.

“You can put your matchmaking shit on hold,” you stated. “All focus is now on ‘operation avoid Romanoff’.”

“Mission accepted as long as you come up with a better title,” Wanda returned. “A Christmas themed one.”

—

“Oh my God, I need to tell you all who I saw in town this afternoon,” Kamala practically squealed as she took her seat in the booth with the rest of the group. A girl’s night out at the local bar was a no brainer after the news.

“Let me guess,” Monica voiced. “Red hair, expensive suit, kinda scary, and a knack for ghosting certain people?” She added, tapping her chin with her face contorted into one of faux musing and a pointed look towards you with her final words.

“Pretty good at breaking poor innocent hearts?” Carol added with a teasing nudge to your shoulder to lighten your mood.

“She didn’t break my heart,” you scoffed.

“Just stomped on it a little,” Kate said with the same joking tone - if there was one thing you adored your friends for it was their way of making even awful situations fell a little less dire.

“Poked at it with her expensive stilettos,” Wanda added.

“Oh, so I’m the last to know,” Kamala sighed. “That’s cool, I guess. Not that I wanted to come in here with big, dramatic news or anything.”

“No, please, go on,” you laughed. “Who was it that you saw?”

“Natasha. Romanoff,” she exclaimed with all the dramatic flare she’d hoped to achieve. And, of course, you all gasped just as you knew she’d enjoy.

“You’re kidding,” you deadpanned.

“I know!”

“I’m gonna get us some more drinks,” Kate spoke as she stood up. “No gossip whilst I’m gone, you know all the drama gets my blood up.”

And so you all talked. And talked. And talked. Every detail of your relationship - or lack thereof - was explored. Her departure and the toll it took on you was examined and you remembered just how grateful you’ve always been for their support, they’re truly the best friendship group you ever could’ve asked for.

“Oh my God.”

The phrase was grumbled out by the three of you positioned in the line of sight of the door, the faces of you, Carol and Wanda all laced with discontent at the sight.

“Alright, look behind you but be subtle,” Carol instructed. “I’m talking to you, Kamala.”

It started off discreetly to begin with, Monica glanced over her shoulder with a scoff at the image behind her. Kate, somehow, was just as discreet but, of course, Kamala being Kamala an obnoxiously loud gasp followed her gawking. It drew the attention of those at the eye of the display you were staring at and two pairs of eyes looked back at you.

“What a surprise,” Yelena grinned as she approached with her sister in tow.

“Yelena, you were literally invited,” you grumbled. “You said you had plans.”

“There’s been a change in plans,” she shrugged, clearly amused at the awkward situation she was dragging you into. “My dear sister and I are joining you.”

“I’ll get more drinks,” Natasha mumbled. The first words you’d heard from her in years and she kept her eyes everywhere but directed towards you; something about the way she still buries her hands in her coat pockets when she’s nervous stirred up a stinging familiarity.

“Lena, what the hell?” Wanda whispered when the blonde smugly took her seat in the already crammed booth.

“What?” she shrugged, feigning obliviousness at her clearly deliberate actions. “It’s Christmas, even the grinch needs a drink.”

Speaking of, the redheaded grinch in question approached with a tray of drinks and an awkward yet fleeting smile gifted to you when she pulled a chair up to the end of the table. To your surprise, she even held your gaze as she slid your glass over to you though you couldn’t muster much more than an almost inaudible thank you.

“So, you’re back,” Carol spoke, leaning forwards with her arms resting on the table.

And that began the awkward evening. There was an obvious tension between the pair of you; Natasha answered any questions she was asked and you pretended not to notice the way she’d steal looks at you over the edge of her glass. You, however, barely spoke.

How do you talk to the woman that left you behind? Especially when she comes back into town looking even more perfect than before; you scold your lustful eyes for tearing your mind apart.

[lalunanymph]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐆𝐎

↳ a foul-mouthed, aggressive, pro-soccer player on the verge of being disqualified from the biggest game of his life, is tossed into a fake relationship with a spoiled heiress to salvage their bad public reputation. what exactly could go wrong?

𖨆♡𖨆 itoshi rin x fem!reader

cw. mentions of injuries, angst, mentions of food, the itoshi brothers and their horrible communication skills, mentions of medication, arguments, shidou being a menace, language

masterlist | playlist

#6: HIS CONFESSIONS

Rin didn’t know what compelled him to open his mouth, or for those words to tumble freely from his loosened lips. He liked to think it was grief which compromised his unwavering pride for a split second. Or, the guilt for what he did and said to his brother when he exhaled—

“Teach me how to win her back.”

Sae’s expression betrayed a hint of surprise when those cold features morphed into begrudging curiosity. 

His deadened stare sparked to life with a flicker of interest, and he regarded his younger brother for a long moment. When the silence got too much for Rin to bear and he wanted to walk away and play it off as the after effects of a mild concussion, Sae tilted his head to one side. 

Another agonising moment later, he nodded.

“Fine,” his older brother mumbled. “On one condition.”

Rin waited for him to counter-offer something humiliating which his ego and pride would never consent to him doing. He anticipated the other shoe to drop, and tensed, shoulders squared and ready to take back his foolish question, replacing it with spat hatred into Sae’s face.

But, his nii-chan’s next words shook him to the core, and he thought he might actually be suffering from a concussion when Sae said: “Play soccer with me again.”

Rin’s shoulders slumped, and something achy and hot pressed in the back of his throat. It crept into his eyes, burning a stinging path which bubbled over into beads of tears forming right on his lash line. Sae, too, could not bear to look at him; like he was a mirage and if he stared too long at his little brother, Rin might vanish.

“Oh.” Rin spoke past the lump in his throat, ignoring Shidou who hovered in his periphery like a gnat, batting its wings and waiting to float back to Sae’s side. “... okay.”

Their moment was interrupted by Shidou’s loud gagging. “What is this? A fucking Hallmark movie? You both are corny as fuck. Lame.”

He jammed his large hands into his hoodie and rolled his vermillion eyes, stalking back towards whichever hell hole he came from. “See you later, Sae. Don’t get too weepy.”

“Man, fuck you,” Sae murmured mildly.

“I would if you gave me a chance.”

Rin’s disgusted grimace broke the fine film of tension between the two men and Sae shook his head absentmindedly. Looking back at his brother, he motioned to a nearby field which was empty this afternoon save for a shoddy goalpost and one discarded, almost deflated soccer ball. 

“One on one?”

Unlike that wintry night when Sae challenged him to the same thing, Rin didn’t feel a sense of foreboding or dread. He welcomed the sunshine shimmering in his vision, almost blinded by the faintest glint of sincerity in his brother’s irises. Sae picked up the ball, and just like when they were both teenagers again, he shot his brother a challenging smirk. 

“Ready?”

Rin nodded, stepping forward out of his shell and into the man he already was today; a champion and a worthy opponent. A man who had proven himself multiple times in the big field. A man enough to go against Itoshi Sae. 

“Ready.”

It was time to put old ghosts to rest. 

The thunderous applause echoing across the gilded palace rooms vibrated through your very soul. 

Its ardour would’ve scared you if it was not directed towards your creations waltzing down the catwalk, validating your belief in your designing prowess. The spectators called you Japan’s next best underground fashion designer, and many heiresses, too, wanted you to dress them for their next event.

Your works encapsulated a mix between ornamental opulence and sleek simplicity; kimono-inspired suit sets made from spun golden silk, body-hugging cashmere and luxurious sleeves showcasing models of every ethnicity and body size as their godlier versions. A true spectacle considering the palace’s heavenly aesthetics which complimented your creative touch. 

You took one shaky step up onto the stage, and the lights almost blinded you; you were wrapped in a simple black corset dress from your collection, its sleeves trailing down to your knees and almost covering your hands when you humbly clasped them in front of you, bowing lowly to the applause.

The fashion critics remained impassive, and you had no doubt they would try to find an opening to diss a relatively unknown fashion designer. They may call you a nepotism baby, never mind that your father was famous in the sports world and this was the first attempt for the L/N name to breach through the fashion industry.

You let the naysayers whisper behind your back, already feeling like you achieved something because you took the first step—trusted yourself to put your abilities forward when the whole world saw you as nothing but a spoiled rich brat. That was considered a win in your book. 

“Congratulations, Miss L/N!” Every designer and model you worked with bore a bright smile when you went backstage to speak to them. 

Warmth suffused across your cheeks, and you shook your head, giving them back the credit. “No, it is all of you who deserve the recognition for bringing my designs to life.” Bowing low to each of them, you said, “Thank you for putting your trust in me.”

The talented individuals were touched by your acknowledgement, and it showed in their bright smiles and shiny eyes. 

“Tonight, drinks are on me,” you announced to the whole room through your cupped palms. Everyone cheered and the legendary near frenzied post-party after a fashion show began with manic cleaning up and rapid-fire jokes going off across every room.

Someone touched your arm amidst the chaos, and you turned to find Damara, her light eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“A gentleman is outside of the building and he’s requesting a one-on-one with you. Fair warning, he’s rather good-looking.”

You blinked, retracing in your mind who would have expressed interest in your works and stifled a gasp. Was it perhaps Itachibana-san himself who promised your father he would drop in for this show? Junni’s dad always did have a soft spot for you, and his contacts extended towards the top fashion conglomerates in the world. You pictured the mature, but still attractive man waiting for you with his carefree smile, and thanked Damara for sending the message.

Heart beating hard in your chest, you swiftly moved towards the backstage exit and out into the cool wind, forgetting to bring your jacket in your excitement. The streets were filled with activity, and you blended right into its motion, keeping your eyes peeled for your best friend’s father.

But, it wasn’t him standing underneath a pool of orange street lamp light, holding a rose bouquet.

Rin tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, teal eyes bright despite his impassive expression.

You faltered and took one step back when you noticed him. 

The bruise around his eye was stark across his pale skin, and his smile was paper thin with nerves.

“Hey. C-Congratulations on the show. Here—” He walked over to you and handed you the arrangement. You gingerly took it by the hefty stem, cradling the burst of roses to your chest, your heart doubling in speed from how heartbreakingly handsome Itoshi Rin looked tonight.

Glossy dark green locks tinted black from the darkness were pushed from his face, stray bangs falling across his forehead and brushing his chiselled cheek. Even with a blooming black eye, it could not compare to the delicate jut of his nose bridge or the elegant curve of those thick lashes framing his beautiful eyes.

Your voice was stuck in the back of your throat, and you stared at him in silence for a few seconds.

“I… heard from your designer that the show went well.” Rin shoved his hands into his slack pockets, dropping his gaze towards the grey pavement shyly. “I’m—that is to say, I… you did good.”

You suddenly felt too hot around your neck, and like there were far too many eyes on you. Shifting your weight from one Louboutin heel to the other, you managed to exhale a small laugh.

“Thank you.” Glancing at the bouquet, you gestured to it. “And thank you for these. Red roses are my favourite.”

“Yeah, you told me that before.”

You blinked. Like a mirage, the memory of that conversation sparked in your mind; the both of you sitting across the table having a simple dinner of ochazuke and tempura—where it felt like aeons ago that you could sit in such casual affection with a man you once held such strong feelings for. 

Feelings which were resurfacing back despite your efforts to keep a lid on them. 

“I guess I did,” you mumbled, smiling weakly. A beat of awkward silence passed between you two, and you desperately wished he would say something. Do something rather than blink owlishly at you, as if he were trying to find the right words to say. You settled for wrapping this conversation up, deciding it was time to put an end to your contact with Itoshi Rin.

“Thank you for the flowers. I have to go back in. My colleagues are waiting for me,” your smile grew tighter.  “I assume you’ll be heading off to France soon?” 

It stung him how you still remembered despite everything. How his schedule was etched in your memory. When he didn't reply, your smile waned around the edges and you bowed your head forward slightly. “Good luck with your game, Rin. I’ll be rooting for your win against your brother.”

Your best efforts at hiding the wobble in your voice was masked by your bright smile and you almost turned around to leave when his choked rendition of your name stopped you short. 

“W-Wait…”

Never in a million years did you anticipate Itoshi Rin wrapping his fingers around your wrist to anchor you to his side, a slight tremble in his grasp. The bouquet tumbled out of your arms in surprise, hitting the pavement in a rush of falling blooms, mimicking the blood roaring in your ears.

As if on instinct, your body flinched from his, and you backed away, unable to look into his beautiful teal eyes which were brimming with such a sharp emotion, you feared one glance would cut you up for life.

“Don’t,” you managed to whisper, tightening your arms around your torso. “Don’t… don’t play with my heart like this, Rin.”

The pain in your hushed voice drew him up short. 

Tell her you’re sorry, Sae’s voice echoed in his head. Apologise for what you said to her. Y/N’s feelings are hurt and if you try to make peace first, she will be open to hearing your words. 

But, what came out of his mouth was completely different from the words Sae coached him to repeat. 

“You did this to me.” 

Amidst the twinkling lights of the Milanese streets and the adrenaline pumping in your veins, no one could fault you for taking a step back; wanting to preserve what sliver of inner peace you still had left.

Those that he hadn’t taken from you just yet.

You puffed your chest and squared your shoulders, meeting Itoshi Rin’s glare head-on even though you felt like dissolving into sniffling sobs. He truly was the bane of your existence—not even a few days ago, you were glad to be away from Tokyo; away from the man who had taken every inch of your thoughts, but did not reciprocate it.

“It’s all your fault.” You had never heard Rin sound this angry. 

Your words were tripping over each other, spluttering out into indignant sentences which raced to fly off your acidic tongue when you suddenly stopped. 

He had closed his eyes, pretty eyelashes casting shadows onto his chiselled cheekbones and took the final step so your chest was pressed to his. 

“I hate you.”

He swept you into his arms, holding you fast to his heart while his face was buried in your hair. The anger you held for him died in the back of your throat, and you froze, unable to believe he was touching you on his own free will. 

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he continued to murmur into the softness of your hair. “Lost so many goals because of you. My pass rate dropped by 45%. I got a foul. I punched Isagi in the face.”

Your mind was blaring sirens of overwhelming response to his sudden touch and barrage of information. “Rin,” you gasped. “You did what to Isagi—?!” 

“Stupid,” he growled, stopping your influx of words. Tall and imposing, his body heat was heady and made you want to curl up in his embrace forever. A sob bubbled from the roaring depths of your heart and you hiccuped it back, refusing to fall into his embrace and deception again. “You’re such a fucking pain, Y/N.” 

You swore you would never be that same girl who cried on the plane to Italy while wearing the jersey you stole from his closet. 

You swore you would never let Itoshi Rin kick your heart around as if it were a spare ball. 

But, you couldn’t pull away, not even for one second. 

“Yeah?” your voice quaked from disbelief. “If you hate me, then why are you here?” 

His rough palms slid up the bodice of your dress, feeling the ridges of the corset you wore which barely concealed how your heartbeat was quickening; his lips touching the rapid pulse ticking under your jaw. 

Itoshi Rin was never a man who minced his words, so what else did you expect when he exhaled— 

“Told you. Can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Rin—”

“Y/N.”

He gave you no time to second-guess his intention when he leaned closer to you, one palm cupping your cheek to hold you in place. You could not look at him, not when the words he uttered behind your back still scarred your trust.

You had shown him, didn’t you?

Showed him how you finally found the courage to stand on your own two feet; how you did something crazy and stupid and took a chance on your dreams which landed you on one of Milan’s hottest runways.

He knew that, didn’t he?

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, unable to look directly into his eyes; afraid of what you might find. The truth, perhaps, that your doubts were real. “Said I was nothing but a spoiled brat.”  

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered after a beat of silence. “I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. My ego—”

“Is fucking huge,” you quipped which earned you the softest glimmer in his teal eyes even if his expression remained impassive.

Eventually, he agreed.

“Yeah,” Rin muttered softly. “It is fucking huge. And it nearly cost me someone I care about.” 

Were you hallucinating?

Did his team put him up to this so they could record your reaction and laugh at it later in the locker rooms? 

Whatever hope you buoyed that Rin actually reciprocated your feelings curdled in your chest like sour milk from the bitter memories, and you stepped back from him, unable to look into his gorgeous aquamarine eyes which clouded over with confusion when he noticed the tremble in your lower lip. 

“I should go,” you mumbled, willing the tears not to break down your cheeks, and spinning around so he couldn’t see your expression. Gathering what was left of your composure, you dipped your head low and mumbled: “We don’t have to fake anything anymore, Rin. You can hate me out loud now. I won’t mind. It’s your sentiments. It’s just—”

I wished you didn’t.

But, you had no courage to tell it to his face. 

In the end, you were as much of a coward with your emotions as he was, and your skin suddenly flashed hotly, goosebumps prickling your arms; the world was spinning slightly in your periphery, the lights too loud and the people rushing down the streets sounded like a roaring waterfall and you haven’t eaten anything yet this whole evening so you could fit into this stupid, vintage dress and you were so sure your curling iron was still switched on in your hotel room and—

His strong grip on your wrist nudged you back into his chest. Halting your thoughts right in their frenzied tracks.

You did not get to fight him off, not when he was fueled with desperation and contempt for his stupidly big ego.

Not when he gently spun you around, lifted your chin and fixed you with a look of hunger and yearning which softened the hard edges of his once diamond-like yes and definitely not when—

The world screeched to a stop.

Soft as a cushion, Itoshi Rin’s lips pressed onto yours, stealing the last of your protests and breath away.

Nothing in your existence mattered beyond the curve of his mouth rasping against your own; the hot press of his hands roaming up and down your back, bringing you closer to him—Rin’s courage solidifying from such an ensconced location away from the ruthless eyes of cameras, fangirls and Ego’s scheming. 

Is this really happening? 

Rin tilted his head to the right to slot the jut of his bottom lip in between your parted, panting mouth, and you almost shied away from the tip of his tongue touching yours, coaxing you to come out and meet him in a reciprocal dance of devotion. 

He ruthlessly overpowered his opponents on the field as easily as he overwhelmed you with his tenacity on this dimly-lit street, and you did not protest when one hand came to cradle the nape of your neck, holding you in place while the other tentatively squeezed your waist, committing your curves back into his memory.

Ever a quiet gentleman, Rin let you break off the kiss first; a single strand of spit connecting both your lips together flashed like a silver thread from the hazy orange glow the streetlamps above casted over two uncertain lovers.

You licked your bottom lip, tasting his musk and something minty, breaking the final connection between both your parted mouths. A dust of pink glowed on his cheeks, and his azure eyes—usually boring into yours with sullen distaste—were almost overshadowed by his black pupils, only a thin ring of blue left.

It was endearing how he could not even meet your gaze, uncharacteristically timid for someone so sure on the field.

A smile burst forth onto your face, illuminating the scenery with a sweet luminosity which took his breath away.

“So,” you started, a teasing glint in your eye. “I take it this means you miss me and you want me to come back?” 

Rin’s first instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff. But, strangely, the same contagious happiness stole the muscles on his face, curving his thin lips into a smile against his will.

There she goes again—making me act like a fool with no self-control.

He didn’t have to reply. That little grin was the only answer you needed.

The city lights continued to sparkle and a cool breeze nipped both your noses, but Rin’s hand in yours is as warm as ever. 

“—and that’s another spectacular goal from Itoshi Rin!”

“He’s on fire this season!” 

“The finest soccer legacy from Blue Lock is right here, ladies and gentlemen!”

You chanted his name along with the crowd, the cameras panning towards his impassive face with those fired-up teal eyes you knew and loved.

His number blazing across your chest, and pride overflowing in your soul—you were surprised when he lifted his head and noticed you right in the heart of the crowd. 

Nothing could compare to how the entire stadium went wild when they saw his eyes softened infinitesimally in real time; their clamour rocking straight into your bones when it kicked up a notch from his small smirk and wave in your direction. You shyly waved back at him, and this time, it was your lovesick grin splashed over the huge LED screens for the world to see.

But, Rin and you didn’t care. 

You were past faking anything, anyway. 

He doubled back after the ball went careening into the opponent’s goal, jersey soaked with sweat, and he gave a small fistbump when the crowds roared his name. You leapt to your feet with the rest of Japan’s supporters, and clapped, pride blooming hotly in your chest.

As if you had him in a trance, Rin glanced up at you, and disregarding the pitch etiquette, he jogged over to where you were separated by the touchline barriers and pushed his bangs from his forehead in time for you to flounce closer, hands extended towards him.

“Are you hurt?” you said in dismay, recalling the ball which accidentally smashed into his face, leaving him a smear of dirt on his cheek which you wiped it away with your thumb. He beamed up at you, drawing a gaggle of surprised reactions from his teammates who had never seen this side of Rin before; his broad shoulders relaxed, brow smooth, Captain armband stretched across his defined bicep. He looked far too enticing for such a crowded area. 

God, you wanted to kiss him so badly. But, you reined in your reactions, biting your lower lip to keep your face from splitting into a wide grin. 

He took your hand and squeezed, nodding. 

“After this game, baby, I’m bending you over the couch and I’m not going to go easy on you.” 

You gaped at him, unsure if he said what you thought he said in the middle of the most important game of his life. He’s insane. Your heart flipped and your stomach exploded in a rush of butterflies when Rin grinned at your stumped silence and ran back into the action, kicking up dirt from his quick sprint, leaving your melted heart gooey with affection.

He’s insane and he’s all mine. 

When Blue Lock scored 2-1 against Bastard Munchen, you swore you had never seen your boyfriend look this ecstatic; brows shooting up to his hairline, mouth parted in a raucous yell when he scored the final goal—his teammates lifting him up in the air as triumph blazed their happiness like a second skin.  

A familiar bob of reddish-brown hair made its way to the field, and you couldn’t see what the older Itoshi was saying to his younger brother, but Rin wore a small smile, and nodded. You had faith it was something good.

Later when the frenzy died down, you were admitted into the premium lounge where you found him sitting on the edge of the plush leather sofa, conversing with Isagi in low tones. At the sight of you, he paused, raising a brow. Quietly asking for you to come over to him. 

You did, and Isagi beamed when he noticed how easily you sat next to Rin, no longer tense nor fidgety. He took your hand and rubbed gentle circles onto the rise of your knuckles, and to everyone else in the Blue Lock, the sight must be completely alien for a few other players were smirking in your direction.

“Hey, Isagi, do you think I should get a girlfriend, too?” Bachira asked innocently from his perch on the floor, holding an isotonic drink pack in one hand. Ego was in the corner, speaking to a team of managers that he did not overhear Meguru’s innocent question which would land him in hot water.

Taken aback by his friend’s question, Isagi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. If it’s anyone you should ask, it would be Rin.”

To everyone’s surprise, the unsmiling, aloof and cold Itoshi Rin scoffed fondly, flitting his calm teal eyes towards you.

“Go for it,” he murmured while tightening his grip on your hand, secretly enjoying the feel of his fingers laced with yours, and the sight of his name and number on your chest. Everyone knew without a shadow of a doubt that you belonged to him. 

The corners of your eyes crinkled from your wide grin which was so full of life and unaffected by anything else. Completely enamoured with the fact you could wake up everyday and call Rin Itoshi yours. But, no one could say you were still not the same teasing girl who had melted the ice-cold walls around his heart. 

“Try it if you dare, Bachi. Rin should be able to give you some pointers off-field if you get stuck thanks to my training.”

Your charming quip was met with raised brows and surprised smiles, least of all from the one man who could make you melt into a puddle of your own glee when he scoffed a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll give you some real advice alright,” he grumbled to appease Bachira’s sudden onset of relationship questions.

He tuned his teammate out. 

No one else existed in the room to Rin at this moment; not Ego calling for the team to regroup and debrief on the latest match, or Bachira who bravely thumped Isagi’s back to cajole him to help get me a girlfriend, Yoichi-kun! I wanna see what the hype is all about! 

It was just you and Rin in this split second of time, and he could not stop those stupid muscles on his face from ticking upwards in a shy smile. Completely honest and truthful when he showed the world how much you had him head over heels in love. 

After all, he was done pretending, too.

hihi this is finally done and though i admit my interest in bllk has waned, im happy i wrapped this up and this little story has made everyone feel good :'> im not so sure what my future in the bllk fandom would be but your support and love for my work will always be the highlight of my time here &lt;;33

p.s: pls listen to this song as the closing credits for a little serotonin boost as much as i had when i wrote this hehe

xoxo dawnie

©️ all rights belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[amaltheas-garden]

I think Jon will stay in the north but with no one, no partners, children, just him

That's definitely a possibility! (Especially with how the show ended) Plenty of others have already written quite a bit on how Martin promised a bittersweet ending, and how all the starklings ending up alone and separated would be a real low point to end the series on. Imo, Jon "dying" and getting a second chance where he is not bound to his Night's Watch oaths just to turn around and rejoin 1 book later seems a bit pointless. It's a bit connected to the Jonsa-cousin reveal theory, as Jonsa becomes possible through the revelation of them being cousins (compared to Jonerys where Jon being related to her or not has little effect, at least from Dany's pov, since Targs are chill with incest). In a similar vein, Jon's death and resurrection opens up more paths for him, since his watch technically ended, and he can become a legitimate Stark/Lord of Winterfell without being an oath breaker.

I would also say, Jon originally joined the NW because it was the only place a bastard could make a name for himself, but the whole time what he truly wanted was to be seen as worthy of his father's name. But when Stannis offers him legitimatization, Jon rejects it. Because at the end of the day, it's not about the literal name Stark, but being a part of their family, and carrying on the legacy of his "father". Something I think the show did well was display how much it meant to Jon that Sansa viewed him as her family. Even though Jon being a bastard, illegitimate son places him in a more unique place than most classic fantasy protagonist (at least at time of grrm writing before everyone wanted to write grimdark lol), his narrative still features all the classic hallmarks of a hero's story. He begins the story wanting one thing (to be a Stark), being unable to attain that thing, but then when it is finally presented to him (via Stannis), he rejects it (thus proving himself worthy). Typically, the resolution that follows would be Jon getting the thing he originally wanted after proving himself worthy (choosing duty over titles, loyalty to the NW, defending the inheritance rights of his trueborn siblings). And if Jon becomes a Stark through marriage to Sansa, well, that would be the perfect little subversion of Jon's story, in that his dreams of Winterfell and children would be fulfilled through probably the last avenue Jon would ever think possible.

Last thing I'll say is, I don't think there's a good enough reason for Jon to have to return to the Wall after all is said and done. The Starks built the Wall, and have been closely tied to maintaining the NW ever since. With Bran off in KL and Arya on her voyage, it makes more sense for two Starks to stick together to oversee the rebuilding of Winterfell and strengthening the North. There's no reason Jon can't help the NW while also not rejoining. (Of course, I am biased as I want to see Jon have a son named Robb, and carry on the Stark name ;))

[dear-ao3]

i'm about to embark on a hallmark worthy fake-dating for a christmas party journey with my also gay best friend, send help

i did that once except it was 8 months long and we went to a harry styles concert together. we did not fall in love but also her friends don't know it was a bit.

[cinnies-stories]

grace clinton / like a hallmark movie

this is short, sorry, but her 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

You hummed a festive tune as you sifted flour onto the kitchen counter, glancing over at Grace who was wrestling with the tangled lights for the Christmas tree. The room was filled with the scent of cinnamon and the promise of holiday joy.

"Having a little trouble there, Ms. I-don't-need-help?" you teased, eyes twinkling.

"Just trying to untangle the holiday spirit, darling. Maybe I need a magical touch?" Grace replied with a grin, her hands still in a wrestling match with the lights.

"I'll save you with my superior untangling skills later. But first, focus on these cookies. They need your culinary genius," you replied, playfully waving a rolling pin at your girlfriend.

Winking, the young forward responded, "Your wish is my command, Chef Y/N. What's the secret ingredient this time?" Her words were met with a gentle kiss on the cheek from you.

"Love, of course. But also a hint of mischief and a dash of holiday magic," you answered with a mischievous smile.

"Love, mischief, and holiday magic, coming right up!" Grace said, mock saluting.

As the two of you worked on the cookie dough, your girlfriend stole a quick kiss, leaving a dusting of flour on your nose. Giggles filled the room as you both engaged in a playful flour fight, turning the kitchen into a winter wonderland.

"I think our cookies just got an extra sprinkle of love," Grace remarked, looking at the snowy mess you two had created.

"And a touch of insanity, but that's what makes it perfect," you added, nudging her.

Your playful banter continued, punctuated by sweet kisses and laughter. Flour dusted both your cheeks as you exchanged affectionate gestures, turning the baking process into a delightful dance of love.

As you rolled out the dough, Grace paused, her gaze fixed on you. "You know, these cookies may not be as sweet as your kisses." You rolled your eyes but another soft kiss followed, making the kitchen feel even warmer.

While the cookies baked, you sat by the fireplace, cups of cocoa in hand, and admired the twinkling lights on the tree.

"You know, the lights on this tree can't compare to the sparkle in your eyes. "

Blushing, you responded, "Smooth talker. But seriously, this feels like a Hallmark movie, doesn't it?"

"Only if Hallmark movies involve flour fights and stolen kisses in the kitchen," Grace replied with a smirk.

You chuckled and the banter continued as you decorated the cookies.

Holding up a snowman-shaped cookie the brown-haired forward proclaimed "Clearly, my decorating skills surpass yours."

Examining her creation, you teased, "It looks more like a blob with a hat, but nice try. I, on the other hand, am a cookie Picasso."

"Picasso, huh? I think the world needs to see this masterpiece," she said, mock gasping.

Handing her a cookie, you declared, "Instagram-worthy, right?"

Taking a bite, Grace responded, "Definitely. But I think the best part is the chef herself."

Blushing once again, you replied, "You're laying on the charm thick tonight."

"Can't help it. Christmas brings out the romantic in me," your girlfriend grinned.

You continued decorating, the kitchen filled with laughter, sweet words, and the scent of freshly baked cookies.

"This is the perfect Christmas," you sighed contentedly.

"Almost perfect. We still have mistletoe to hang," Grace said, wrapping an arm around you.

Saving the best for last, you smirked, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

And so, with cookies in hand and mistletoe above, you both enjoyed a Christmas filled with love, laughter, and a touch of holiday magic. The kitchen, now adorned with imperfect but heartfelt cookies, became a canvas of your shared joy and affection.

[callmewrinkles3]

Morning

April 2023

Crazy curls. Familiar snores. Warm skin against hers. Everything felt soft that morning. The sheets covering them, the noise from outside the bedroom windows, and even the light coming through the curtains. There was some sense of calmness filling her. Suddenly the world didn’t feel so heavy on her shoulders. There was some sort of relaxation inside her. Somehow it felt like freedom. Em knew the right word was 'Happiness'. She was happy.

The world finally knew Daniel was her husband. It was finally public that they were married, so there were no longer any doubts that they belonged to each other. They belonged to each other from the beginning. They had been married for months, but now it was official for everyone else. Now Em could yell it from the rooftops and wear her wedding ring without the fear of someone spotting it. She could wear it in her left hand proudly and not in her right one to make it look like it was just another random one in her large collection of rings. She didn’t have to hide in a chain around her neck, keeping it safe and close to her heart. After months and months and months of biting their tongues, keeping quiet and hiding away, they could finally say they were married. Em could finally say Dan was all hers.

She couldn't believe it was real. She was so sure those happy endings worthy of a Hallmark movie weren't for her. She was sure there was no such a thing as her better half. Emma was so convinced none of those things were made for her that she had to accept that she would spend most of her days alone in her tiny apartment surrounded by her books. It was almost impossible to believe how much things had changed. It was still difficult to comprehend how her tiny cold apartment in London was left behind and her new home was a spacious, cozy, lovely place that was perfect for her, her books and her husband.

Her husband.

It was almost impossible to believe that after everything that had happened, the beautiful man right beside her sleeping peacefully was her husband. He loved her so much that he married her not once, but twice. He was so crazy that he carried her in his skin forever, adding tattoos after tattoos in her honor. Some in their honor. Dan once said that if someone asked why he did such a silly thing like getting tattooed with his girlfriend, the answer would be simple. 'It's to honor the biggest and greatest love of my life. If someone has any doubts I'm all yours, then there they have it.'

Dan loved her so deeply that he was giving her everything she never thought she could have. A home, family, friends, love, safety. He made sure they had the wedding of their dreams, but especially Em's dreams. Lemon cake, wildflowers, fairy lights, friendship bracelets, and a playlist Dan created specifically for that day. The people they loved the most were there loving on them as Dan stood there in absolutely breathtaking his suit promised to love her for the rest of their days. He made her feel like the most special girl in the world tearing up as he looked at her wearing the dress that was a gift from Grace and Joe to not make her feel bad about the fact her parents weren’t there to do that little part of the tradition.

He was doing everything in his power to put the world at her feet, convinced Em didn't deserve less than that. He adored his wife so incredibly much he was trying to give her the one thing they wanted more than anything in the world. They were trying to have what the cruel world took from them. Her Danny loved her so much he was ready to put everything to a side if that meant they could have their own little family. In the silence of the night, Dan would hold her and whisper they would make it happen. He promised that sooner or later they would be holding their brunette baby that was half him and half Em.

Em couldn't wait to see that happen, but in the meantime she couldn't complain. From her spot in bed she could see her wedding dress neatly arranged on the back of a chair with Dan's suit jacket. She knew the rest of his clothes were somewhere around the room, spread around the floor. He didn't care about his clothes, but he took care not to ruin Emma's white dress. Not only was it her reception dress, but it was Blake's gift for her, so Dan was extra cautious about it. She would clean up the mess later, too distracted and happy to care.

When she looked at their clothes, she was drawn to the photo Dan had on his nightstand. It was 2019, Em's hair was way longer, Dan's curls were longer and wilder, and somehow they looked a lifetime younger. She was smiling at the camera as he kissed her cheek, his arms comfortably around her waist, exactly like he had them that morning. They had apartments and houses in different places around the world, and she loved them all, but at the end of the day, Dan's arms were her home. No matter where they were in the world, she was home as long as they were together. It was alright as long as her love held her hand. She knew it would be alright if his big brown eyes looked down at her.

The strange morning Em woke up before Dan, she would normally let him sleep. If she knew Dan didn't set his alarm to go for a run or to the gym, she simply let him rest. They promised the year off would be about them. They would rest, heal, recharge and enjoy. Letting Dan sleep was part of the process, but that morning she couldn't help it. They could cure the hangover with water, coffee and kisses. They could fight it with greasy food, but Em wanted her husband first. She wanted to see him smiling at her on their official first morning as a public newlywed couple. Em felt slightly guilty about ruining her husband's peaceful morning, but she knew he wouldn't be mad at her for waking him up with kisses. Her Danny was never able to be mad at her, especially not for such a thing. Soft kisses on his jaw and lips traveling down his neck were the perfect way to wake up. Her soft fingers running down his chest, outlining his abs and finally resting on his small waist were enough to bring a moan from his mouth.

"Morning, husband." Emmy whispered softly against his ear, returning to her job and marking his tanned skin. That was her husband, she was allowed to mark him, and if somebody didn't like that, it was their problem.

"Morning, baby girl. Sorry, I mean, morning, wife." A couple of words were more than enough to bring a moan from her. He never needed more than that.

Crazy curls. Soft kisses. Bedroom eyes. Loving moans. Raspy stubble. Chill air. Soft sheets. Familiar snores. Lavender curtains. Pokémon plushies. Polaroids stick around the mirror. Fairy lights. Warm golden sunlight. Farm noises. Scented candles. Messy clothes. Old books. Her husband's warm body against hers. Em couldn't believe that was her home. She couldn't believe that was her life.