#and again the tone for all of that is kind/neutral—i dont want to sound mad at all ^w^

[verdantmeadows]

To me the joy and beauty of vocal synthesizers has always been that they don't sound real and exploring that to create artistic expression that can't be achieved by human voices, so seeing them become more and more realistic is disheartening, almost? Especially since a lot of artists make the same voice banks sound so different and have their own personal charm. I'm glad that people will be able to make things that sound realistic, but I'm worried that songs that intentionally play out of sounding as realistic as possible will be sidelined, discouraged, no longer created, impossible to find, or unsupported by fans of vocal synthesizers. I don't want things to just push towards being as realistic as possible. There is beauty in how everyone's usage of the same voice banks sound different. There is beauty in the lack of realistic sounding vocals in vocal synthesizers.

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

Hi if I may I wanna request LS hcs, like what's their reaction to reader getting injured in a mission and calling the bois to drive to pick them up? Like, through the call they could just tell sth bad happened to reader. (And can u make it gn? Thx very much I love ur writings!!)

AH THE GOOD OL HURT/COMFORT

thank u sm!!! 🥺 and i make everything gender neutral by default so no worries there my love (i want these boys to care for my they/themmie ass)

la squadra helping their injured partner home 🤕

risotto ✂️

the moment risotto heard something off in your voice, a quaver or unsteady breath, his heart stopped. he'll ask if you're injured, and when you say yes, he's already up and on his way

he keeps calm, and first of all he's making sure it's not bad enough that you need a hospital. if you reassure him honestly that it's not that severe, he tells you to stay put and wait for him and he doesn't waste a second. he may insist you stay on the phone with one of the others while he drives.

and he's driving as fast as he can without being reckless. you're so important to him, and even if he's reassured that you're not dying, the thought of you hurt and alone--his heart can't take it. all that mattered was getting to you and making sure you're safe, so he didn't ask yet how the injury happened--but if someone hurt you and they're still alive, they won't be for much longer. and he won't make it quick, he thinks with his jaw clenched and a hard grip on the steering wheel.

but he's all gentleness with you when he gets there. he's relieved beyond belief that you are, in fact, alive, but his heart is in his throat seeing you injured. if you'll let him, he'll pick you up and place you in the passenger seat. he looks you over and does quick fixes to last you until you get home.

he's still tense in the car. he'll ask how it happened; if it was an accident or the target you already dealt with, he'll be reassured. if it was someone else who's still kickin, he's already making plans. but still, his focus is you. at every red light, he's taking a hand off the wheel to rest on your shoulder, your knee, to hold your hand, just to soothe him that you're there. eventually, you just keep one hand on his knee. he can't express how grateful he is for your grounding presence.

you've done well. just... be more careful, amore.

he can breathe again once you're both safe at home and you can be properly patched up. he'll stay with you until you fall asleep, then stay a little longer.

prosciutto 🚬

something is wrong. it's not a question. explain that you're injured, and he's on his way. you're not hospital injured, but he doesn't waste his time. he'll want to know immediately what happened and will scold you for being reckless, but he's just shaken. he's determined to stay calm for you though and keep you calm.

he will definitely get one of the others to stay on the phone with you while he drives (and he's going as fast as he can). he's not taking any chances. if you got hurt again after calling him, when he's supposed to look out for you, he'd never forgive himself.

he's also turning the whole mission over in his head (from what you've told him) while he's goin, and tapping his finger on the steering wheel, because yes injuries happen, but.... he can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. you've told him the extent of it, but he's conjuring up a whole other round of scolding when he sees it in person.

but then he does see you, and all that goes out the window, because his nurturing instincts kick in and all he can think of is taking care of you. he's speaking softly and hushes you soothingly if you make a pained noise. he doesn't want to linger, so he gathers you quickly to the car and takes off again

he's instructing you on breathing through the pain in a calm tone. helping you focus keeps him focused, too. when you get home, he's all gentle touches as you're being treated, and he does the forehead touch to ground himself in your presence.

pesci 🎣

is everything okay? he's all worried, cause you don't sound okay. you say you're injured, and his throat gets tight. he promises you he'll be right there, lay low and keep yourself safe he's getting there as fast as he can!!!

and he rushes. he's kinda freaking out. he's more than kinda freaking out actually because you're all alone and you're hurt and the thought of it makes his eyes prick, but he steadies himself because he can't drive if he's crying and he's gotta get to you. you're his partner, you called him, you put your faith in him and he will not let you down

the moment he sees you he's spilling apologies that he didn't come with you for the mission because maybe he could've prevented this. you tell him not to blame himself. he swallows and nods and VERY gently helps you into the car, he's terrified of getting you more hurt. his hands are shaky while he gets you stable and comfortable but he doesn't half ass it in the slightest.

he glances over at you when he can but he drives Very carefully on the way home, he wants to keep you safe. he'll ask you to tell him about the mission, or offers to just listen if you want to talk about something else, get your mind off it.

he fusses and frets over you when you get home but he's relieved that you're safe. if someone hurt you and you didn't get to them first--yeah, they're dead meat. no more mr. nice fishy.

formaggio 🧀

he'll be like, babe u good??? tell him you're injured and he says not to worry, he'll be right there, hang tight okay? he's gonna get you home safe, he loves u.

he keeps a rather level head because he's just focused entirely on you, on making sure you're gonna be okay cause what kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise?? he can't help but feel like, even when you're down and out, you're his guiding star.

when he reaches you he's showering you in reassuring affection, he's looking you over and doting on you with all his fond pet names, kissing your cheeks. he holds you close as he helps you to the car and insists you take it easy, let him do all the legwork here okay? you're not hospital injured so he's a bit more relaxed, helps you relax, he'll get you home and you'll be all patched up, don't worry about a thing.

he drives carefully, but he keeps one hand on your knee or holds your hand. he'll ask you to tell him about the mission and praise you for your work, and injuries happen so if you're worried about it don't be, you did amazing. he'll generally just fill the space and try to cheer you up, make you laugh. if he does get you laughing, he's smiling and giving you a little squeeze. he loves your laugh.

he makes a big show of ayyy i'll take care of you when you're home, absolutely dotes on you and if he's not cuddling you he's fetching you whatever you need.

illuso ✨

his throat dries up and he goes entirely tense when he hears something off in your voice. what's wrong. he'll say it in a way that's both hushed and sharp, more an insistence than a question, he's not mad he's just extremely fucking apprehensive. tell him you're injured, and he'll feel more rigid than a statue for a moment. he'll ask how bad, you say not hospital bad but you need help getting home, and then he's moving fast and direct and telling you he's on his way right now, do not move.

oh honey he is speeding. he's speeding and taking any detours he knows (and he knows everything he's the info guy) and probably flipping off whoever honks at him without even a glance. his eyes are straight ahead and glaring at the road because you're hurt and he wasn't fucking there so on god he's gonna be so fucking there now.

something in his chest twists seeing you hurt. he's insistent but gentle in checking you over, not wanting to overlook a scrape, and is extremely careful helping you to the car. he doesn't speed home, but the only thing on his mind is getting you there so your wounds can be treated. he's still very stiff and he doesn't say much, but he will quietly ask what happened. hearing about how you got hurt makes his jaw twitch, especially if someone hurt you.

expect him to hover. he only really relaxes when ur all patched up, and he'll sigh and play with your hair, and once it's just the two of you he'll gently kiss your forehead.

if you were hurt by someone and they're still alive, he will find them and make sure they are very much not alive with his own hands, probably by the end of the night if he has any say in it

melone 🍈

he's very calm. tell him you're injured and he's in medic mode, gently telling you to give him the rundown. he's already making quick assessments about it, decides based on your injuries/your preference whether he takes a car or his motorbike (the bike is faster but the car is more stable). he'll ask one of the others to stay on the phone with you and keep you calm while he gets there.

stay put, amore. don't strain yourself, and don't worry. i'm on my way right now.

he keeps his level head but he's still going as fast as he can. if he opted for the bike, he's taking detours through alleys to get to you quicker. he doesn't give himself room to worry, he knows how to stabilize himself so he can take care of you.

when he gets to you, he's methodical and efficient but sweet, speaking softly and praising and encouraging. he gets the most immediate stuff out of the way so he can get you home, and once you're settled in the car/on the bike, he kisses your cheek before taking off.

if you're on the bike, he has you in front with your back to his chest, and feeling comforted by holding you close. either way, he drives carefully and still keeps his calm, gentle tone. once you're all patched up at home, he gives you a long, loving kiss.

ghiaccio ❄️

he'll say you sound off, and there's a spike of worry. say you're injured and he's bolting up and going WHAT!!!!! stay there and DONT FUCK URSELF UP MORE he's on his way rn

ghiaccio already drives like a maniac (which is ironic considering how protective he is of his car) but YOU'RE hurt and alone? nuh uh. not on his watch. he's running red lights, leaning over the steering wheel with his eyes on the prize, and grinding his teeth. he's kicking himself for not coming with you on the mission.

when his car screeches to a halt he's just vaulting over the open convertible to u and demanding let me see let me see what happened etc. he's not harsh at all tho especially in how he checks you over and fusses, he gets ur ass in the car and takes u directly home. he wants to be fast but he also doesn't want to jostle u so he drives like, marginally carefully, by his standards

if someone injured you and they're still alive, he shouts he'll get the bitch himself. he'll also say in his ranting that he should have been there with you. you tell him honestly that it's not his fault; he just grumbles.

he hovers and snaps at the others if they're not extremely gentle with you as you get patched up. once it's just the two of you, he clings (carefully). be more careful, dumbass, he mutters, and kisses your cheek.

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

reach sorbet first, and his eyes will narrow at your strained voice, as if he could just glare at whatever was bothering you to make it go away. he's already up and his hands are twitching when he asks what's wrong, and at that point gelato pesters him to go on speaker. reach gelato first, he'll just ask right away if you're hurt, and when you say yes, he puts you on speaker without sorbet having to do anything.

they're already on their way, and one keeps you on the line while the other drives. and no matter who it is, they're driving like a fucking crazy person, running every red light and tires squealing. gelato does most of the talking, like always. he's asking you about the injuries, trying to keep your spirits up, and praising you for a job well done on the mission. he'll ask how the injury happened, and his tone is still light, but you know your boyfriends have murder on their minds if someone hurt you. and if someone did, and you didn't get to them first, gelato will go, hmm. we'll fix that. sorbet agrees with mmhm.

once they're there (and they're there very fast), they're both looking you over and doing quick fixes with gentle hands. gelato will coo at you for how brave and tough you are, and sorbet may just pull you into his lap and nuzzle your cheeks together. he will probably carry you to the car even if you can walk fine.

whoever isn't driving will gently cuddle you and cover ur face in kisses in the backseat, and they're driving more carefully now so as not to throw you around. gelato will chatter about whatever to help you feel alright, and sorbet will get his quips in. getting you to laugh is a victory.

one of them is literally always touching you. if someone else is tending to your wounds and they try to fuss about one or the other being in the way, they'll tell em to deal with it as long as it isn't bothering you. get ready to be squished (carefully) between two cuddly boyfriends until you're better; they love you so much and just want to care for you, it hurts their hearts that you got hurt without them there, so they're not letting you go now.

if someone hurt you and they're still kickin, they'll ask if you want to be there to do em in, or if they can go ahead. if you want to be there, they'll pace about having to wait because the thought of someone who dared to hurt you still breathing makes their hands itch, but they Will wait until you've healed up some. you take the reins on the hit in that case, and they'll be happy to follow your lead. if you say they can go ahead, they both grin. they're gonna leave that fucker as a smear when they're done.

[ecoamerica]

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[beomglocks]

test me ; c.yj

pairing: teacher!yeonjun x (of age) student!y/n (fem)

plot: no plot im pretty sure its just smut, part 2 of teacher’s pet

w/c: 1.7K

warnings & other: smut, jealousy, teacher!yeonjun, of age student!y/n, implied cheating, yeonjun possessive, does this count as public sex?, kinda public sex?, revising this at 4am so if there’s still mistakes iM SORRY

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

after what happened the other day with beomgyu and yeonjun you thought you had won. getting yeonjun jealous was one of your many hobbies. although he'd encourage you to find a new or better one. what you didn't know was that yeonjun was not gonna let himself get played that easily.

see, yeonjun is possessive. if he's fooling around with you, you're his now. messing around with him the way you did, did not slide with him. he had thought about what you did all weekend long. even though it was something minor like flirting with another teacher, he couldn't wait for monday to arrive. he felt bad not giving attention to his actual girlfriend but messing around with you was much more exciting.

he was glad you were already legal or else he'd be in real trouble. even though having sexual encounters with one of his own students would cost his job at least he wouldn't be sent to jail. the thought of getting caught was exhilarating. he could only imagine fucking into you on his desk roughly when all of a sudden someone walks in.

he liked the idea of humiliating you like that but realized that he was the only that was allowed to see you in that much of a vulnerable state.

with that, monday arrived. you had forgotten about the way you riled up yeonjun a few days back. you figured he wouldn't be too mad about it so you decided to erase it from your mind. clearly you were wrong.

you weren't dressed too crazy today either, just a cozy sweater and some jeans. the hallways were busy as always but this time there seemed to be a common topic of murmur.

"did you see mr. choi today?" "oh my god he looks so hot." "i can't believe the teachers are allowed to come to school like that as if they aren't already good looking enough." "i want him to fuck me so badly."

you tried to keep your face and mind neutral as you walked through the halls. it's not a secret that the teachers at your school were good looking and were a casual topic among the students but why the hell was yeonjun suddenly trending?

you bit the inside of your cheek thinking about how suddenly everyone had his name in their mouths. you shook your head to get rid of these jealous thoughts bubbling in your brain and started trying to get to class.

you were barely past the threshold of the door when you hear yeonjun's stern voice, "you're late." you have to physically stop yourself from gaping at his appearance. his pink hair was pushed back to showcase the glory of his forehead but the killing part in your opinion was the leather pants.

you're not really sure how he was allowed to dress up to school like that but you thanking the heavens that no one told him off about it. your eyes not so subtly wandered to his crotch area and you almost got on your knees right then and there. the leather clung to him for dear life and showcased his toned thighs and not to mention his dick. god, his dick was literally on full display. the cocky bastard probably wanted the whole world to know he had the biggest cock ever. if he was gonna dress up like that might as well wear nothing at all.

you shiver, thinking about the ways in which he would take you right on the desk beside him-

"y/n," yeonjun's voice rips you out of your thoughts. "if you could take your seat?" you blink at him dumbly but regain yourself, two can play at this game.

"yes sir," you purr. he watches you closely as you stride to your seat. yeonjun liked to act like a closed book but you knew him, he was trying to get back at you. you weren't exactly sure if you'd be able to handle it but you're willing to show him you can try.

he starts the lesson like normal but the whispers beside you are more interesting. "i think i can see his dick print," whispers someone near you. you look to the front of the class and grin.

it's was really a good thing the leather pants were tight, it truly didn't leave any room for the imagination. you licked your lips, lost in your own thoughts when yeonjun calls you for the second time today. he was really starting to get on your nerves since he never ever calls on you. "y/n when your done daydreaming can you answer this question?"

you feel heat rise up your neck and cheeks. why the fuck did he call you out like that? surely you weren't the only one not focused on the lesson. you bite back a snarky remark that would've helped your pride and instead just answer his question.

after that, he thankfully leaves you alone for the rest of the hour. you're sure he knows you're not actually paying attention to what he's saying. screw english, at this point you want yeonjun to teach you a different kind of language.

the bell rings and strangely the girls in class take their time getting out of the room. you watch them eye yeonjun up and down and give him flirty goodbyes before finally leaving. the thing that irks you is that yeonjun is entertaining them. you scoff as he winks to a group of girls and tells them to have a nice day.

you look around and notice you're the last person in class so you decide to get up and leave. yeonjun catches you before you can get out. "where do you think you're going?" he remarks. you roll your eyes and remove his hand from your arm. "i'm leaving?"

"after that little stunt you pulled friday? i dont think so," he growls backing you up onto the door, shutting it closed. "oh? wouldn't you rather go at it with one of those other girls?" you look at him bored and he raises a brow at you. "someone's jealousy is showing," he quips.

"i'm not jealous," you defend. yeonjun leans closer to your ear, taking your lobe into his mouth. he licks a stripe along the side of your ear and kisses it making you shiver from his heavy breaths. "you sure?" he whispers. you sigh shakily and he moves to walk back to his desk. he settles himself in his chair, looking over at you expectantly.

you slowly walk over to his figure. he chuckles, eyeing your actions. you drop your bag on the floor by his desk and situate yourself on his lap so that you're straddling him. he places his hand on your thighs as you lean down to kiss him. you whimper when you feel his hands travel to the front of your jeans while he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. you open your mouth and he wastes no time letting his tongue explore it.

you sigh and find yourself grinding on his crotch. you really can't help it since you can practically feel his cock on you as he gets hard. he moves his hands from your zipper back to your thighs, gripping them roughly. "mm baby," he grunts out in a warning tone.

you don't listen and keep grinding on him, gradually getting quicker in your movements. you're pretty sure you're getting your panties and jeans wet with your cum but you don't care because damn this feels good. at this point you just wanna reach your high, you don't care if yeonjun scolds you afterwards.

yeonjun pulls away from you, scanning over your face. there's a string of saliva from him to you and your eyes are hooded looking down at him. "you're so needy today hm?" he pokes your lip in thought. "i guess i shouldn't have treated you that way today."

"yeonjun please," you whine. you try to grind on him more but he stops you. "take off your pants," he orders. you do as told and get back on his lap. the leather pants feel cold on your thighs making you shiver. "well go on baby," he's smiling up at you evilly. "junnie," you whine again.

he ignores you, watching you make a mess of yourself in front of him. the friction of your panties rubbing against his pants gets you feeling hot instantly. "ah- im s-so close," you mumble. your vision is kind of hazy but you can see yeonjun staring at you hungrily. "don't cum yet."

you smack his chest weakly and he chuckles lowly. "alright." he lifts you up and set you down on his desk. you watch him lower the leather pants and he sighs from relief. "the things i do for you," he smirks. he slides off your panties, licking his lips at how wet you are.

"can you hurry u-," he shuts you up by pushing his dick into you quickly. just by that alone you feel yourself about to cum. "faster," you moan. he complies, thrusting into you at a quicker speed than before.

the sound of skin slapping against skin rings throughout the his classroom and it makes your head spin. it's been a minute since yeonjun fucked you lik ethis but you're glad he's doing it now. you really did feel yeonjun deprived.

"do you feel me?" he teases, placing his cold hand on your lower stomach. you nod, frantically not really caring about whatever he was talking about. "jjun-"

"yeah," he breathes in reply.  you let otu a silent scream as you reach your orgasm. the way you clench around his dick makes him moan loudly.

"fuck im gonna cum too," he moans. he pulls his dick out of you and pumps it quickly, making himself cum all over your thighs and lower stomach. after a moment of trying to come to your senses, you flinch as try to get up but he stops you. "leaving so soon," he grunts while pulling his pants back up.

"im just surprised mr. c hasnt shown up," you dont think much of it when you say it but yeonjun frowns. "i told him we were gonna be busy," he mumbles walking back to his chair. you can hear the shift in his voice, "whats wrong now."

"y/n dont test me, you're mine."

[damnedparker]

fugitives

pairing: alex law x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: food mention, swearing, Extremely Soft alex, cliche flower date, literally all fluff because thats my brand i guess

summary: alex law is a lot of things, but he most definitely is not a shitty boyfriend.

3k words alex lawies! what! i dont even know what this is. soppy romantic stuff. i love this stupid criminal man too much and no one can stop me. all i can write is fluff. everyday i wake up and choose yearning

You almost groaned as you were brought out of a vague sort of sleep for the third time that night, your boyfriend going through another bout of shifting around for the thousandth time. Alex had always had on and off issues with falling asleep, what he attributed to having a brain that just never stopped or slowed down enough to relax unless he was completely exhausted. You understood what he meant, you only wished you could do something to help. You had tried getting him to read, or relaxing to music before sleep, but neither seemed to help much for him.

As he shifted around again, tangling and untangling his legs with yours multiple times before tossing his head to the side in frustration, you scooted away from your usual place tucked into his side. You had hopes that giving him space without you being half on top of him might help him find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. Soon, you began to doze off again, your body tuning out his tossing and turning just enough before you were woken up by him whispering your name when he stilled. You replied in a sleepy hum, not quite coherent enough to form any words at the moment.

“Are you mad at me?” You blinked your eyes open at that, confused.

“No, Alex, why d’you think that?”

“You moved away from me.”

“I thought maybe you would be more comfortable that way is all.” You yawned, closing your eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” There was a beat of silence, and you thought he had tried to fall asleep again before he reached out for you and pulled you back into his arms, his front pressed tightly against your back. You smiled at the return of his warmth, much preferring to sleep with him holding you or vice versa. More moments of quiet passed, and you began to get sleepy again. But once more, Alex’s voice brought you back to the waking world.

“When’s the last time we went on a date?”

“What?” You mumbled, not sure if you heard him right.

“I don’t know when the last time we went out together was.” He shifted against you again to push his legs between yours, his cold feet settling against your calves. You easily fought the urge to shiver, used to his icy palms and feet pressing against your skin or warmth during the night.

“We went out to the pub just last week.” You replied, becoming fully awake now. A frustrated puff of air from Alex met the back of your neck.

“I’d hardly call me getting shitfaced-drunk a proper date, love.” His fingers began to nervously play with the hem of your shirt as he spoke, a telling tick that Alex always smoothed over with brazen or loud words, pushing down the fact that he was distressed. You covered his hand with yours and pressed it to your tummy to still his movements, now exposed from all the shifting around the both of you had done.

“I don’t need a proper date, or whatever that even means, Alex. I just like being around you.” It sounded incredibly corny, sure, but it was true. You’d much rather get plastered or stay home watching movies with your boyfriend, than have to go through the motions at some overpriced restaurant only to come home and do the very same thing you would rather be doing in the first place.

You turned around in his arms, changing positions so that your head rested on his chest, your arms hugging his middle. He began playing with your hair quietly, not saying anything after your last statement. He had seemed to relax a little at your reassurance, but you could feel the insecurity lingering in his movements and the silence that followed without some kind of acceptance or witty comment.

This time it was you who broke the quiet.

“What’s got you thinking about this in the middle of the night?”

“A few days ago, when we were hanging around on the couch, David said some fuckin’ thing about us never going out on a date, and me being a shitty boyfriend. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.” He mumbled bitterly, upset with himself for letting this get to him. You scooted up slightly, so your face was level with his, reaching out to brush the hair out of his face, which was quite the sight from all the tossing and turning in bed.

“Well, David’s a twat,” you murmured next to his ear, causing a small grin to break out on Alex’s face. He turned to look at you, dark circles present under his icy, soft eyes, his smile unfading. You had to actively stop yourself from bursting out with an I love you, not wanting to make the moment too serious, and you weren’t sure that Alex was the type to say it. You were also a little nervous to tell him, and mostly just hoped that somehow, he knew how much you cared for him. And, of course, you hoped he felt the same. “You are anything but a shitty boyfriend, my Alex. You’re my favorite person.” He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, now resting against his cheek. A quiet sigh of contentment left his lips, and you closed the small gap between your faces to give him a long kiss.

“Let’s go somewhere tomorrow, get away from this stupid flat for a bit.” He pressed his cheek to yours, breath tickling your ear as he murmured softly to you. Tingles spread down your spine at the intimacy, and your hand found its way under his t-shirt, soft with wear, running up his back to feel his skin.

“Where to?” You raised an eyebrow. He sat up slightly to rest his cheek on his hand as he looked down at you, pretending to think hard before answering. Your heart fluttered when his other hand found yours, gently squeezing.

“Wherever you want.”

“Well, then I’d like to stay home.” Alex sighed dramatically and hung his head in lighthearted annoyance. The smile that had overtaken your lips since he’d woken you was incapable of leaving your face as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He peeked up at you with one eye.

“You’re so difficult, you know that?”

“I do it just to make you mad.” The smile on your face was wiped off briefly as you squeaked in surprise when Alex leapt up from his position, trying to pin you to the bed. Laughter rung out far too loudly from your lungs in the middle of the night as you scrambled to escape his hold, albeit not very successfully. Just as you had one foot on the floor to leave the bed, Alex grabbed your other ankle, and the movement of you pulling away resulted in you crashing onto the wood floor, with Alex following, landing on top of you with an almost comical oof. You groaned under him, a bit of pain coming from his weight, as well as the contact your body had made with the hard floor. There was barely a moment to register said pain, as the two of you wrestled on the floor for a bit, somehow bringing the blankets with you across the room within the struggle. You eventually yielded to your boyfriend, far too out of breath from laughter and effort to fight any longer, and also knowing you were making too much noise.

“I win.”

“Yeah, I think that happens when you give the other person a concussion.” You sarcastically replied, wincing when you tried to sit up. Alex’s eyebrows drew up in concern, but you stopped him. “I’m just kidding, Alex. But that fall did kinda hurt. You’re fucking heavy.”

“It’s all my muscles.” He grinned, letting you go to lay next to you. You pinched his bicep as he moved over.

“Yeah, these chicken arms are so strong.” You teased, and he scoffed again in feigned offence.

“You know, I’ll remember that the next time you’re drunk and you don’t want to walk home from the pub,” He pointed a finger at you, which your response was point your own at him. Except, you know, the middle one. “Ohh, you’re so sweet, darling.” He cooed. You rolled over to straddle his waist, taking his position from earlier. Alex rested his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. It was a curiosity how this man didn’t get whatever he wanted when he was capable of looking at you the way he did. “Please can we go somewhere tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you finally agreed, and he sat up in excitement, making you slide down to his lap. You rested your hands on his shoulders. “Somewhere fun though. Not a fancy restaurant.”

“What about a… lower grade restaurant?”

“Alex…” He responded to your small whine with your own name in the same tone, tilting his head with the cutest puppy dog eyes in the world.

“I don’t like restaurants either, but we can get the food to go. I’ll take you to that park you like, with the botanical gardens,” he pouted. “Come on, I’ll pick you a flower or some romantic crap like that.”

“I don’t think those flowers are meant for picking, sweetheart,” His only response was a mischievous grin. You should have known better than to even try to say anything opposing his plans. You weren’t ever going to really say no in the first place; why would you reject any amount of time spent with your boyfriend? Especially when he was being uncharacteristically romantic, or at least romantic in his own way. “I suppose we can go.”

“Good,” His smile turned soft. “Now I really won’t be able to sleep.”

--

The next day, Alex burst into your apartment after you had gotten home from work. Literally right after. You had barely taken off your shoes.

“Sometimes I regret giving you a key to my flat.” Your hands gripped at the sofa you were leaning on, recovering from the minor heart attack he had given you from his sudden appearance.

“Why? I thought you liked me.” He teased, grabbing onto your waist from the side. Your eyes softened as you took in his appearance, dressed in your favorite combination of the approximately six options in clothes he had; a green sweatshirt, denim jacket, topped by his leather jacket.

“I like you very much, Alex.” your voice was almost dreamy as you said it, locking eyes with him for a moment too long. Your boyfriend shifted a little, seeming to get nervous and glancing down before he spoke.

“We best get going soon, huh?” The sudden change of subject made you swallow hard, worried you’d ruined something at his now fidgety state. You nodded and mumbled something about changing before rushing off to your room. That was weird, and the sudden shift in mood from Alex meant something was either wrong, or you had made him uncomfortable somehow. Great. Not like that won’t haunt you the rest of the night. Totally.

As soon as you emerged from your room, clothes changed and forcibly pushing down what had happened a moment ago, Alex seemed back to his regular, excited self, throwing you a grin that encouraged you to file the moment ago in the back of your mind. Along with how clammy his palm felt when he slid his fingers between yours. Maybe he was still anxious in relation to everything he said last night.

There was only a brief separation of touch as you both slid into the Mini Cooper. Key into ignition, gear shift in reverse; Alex threw his arm over the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking lot, stopping briefly with his foot on the brake to press a kiss to your cheek before switching gears and heading out onto the road. His hand soon landed in its regular affectionate spot on your thigh as he drove, turning up his favorite album so the two of you could sing along, your off-key screaming going in and out as you got swept up in random conversations. When it was warm enough, Alex would roll all the windows down, and you’d cruise forever until you end up parked in the shadows somewhere to make out like teenagers. It was torturous how much you loved him; how happy he made you feel. You hoped you made him feel the same way.

The oh-so romantic meal for the night were greasy chips to share, probably detrimental for your intestines later, and sandwiches from the place you both frequented often, as it was almost the exact middle distance between your flats. As per tradition, the two of you ate on the bench outside, as the weather was a little chilly as dusk approached, but not cold enough yet to scare you off. The two of you talked about the usual as you ate, jumping from topic to topic with the ease of trapeze artists, supporting each other with interest as you went. Alex was smiling far more than usual, especially when the two of you were talking about work of all things, and the way his eyes followed your every movement squeezed your heart just the same as his hugs did after a few days apart. Whatever was on his mind was clearly tinging his behavior, and you definitely could tell, with the other signals from other, something was up with him. You just didn’t know what.

What followed your dinner was another car ride, as the gardens you loved were too far of a walking distance. And although it wasn’t a long distance when driving, you were still anxious to get out as soon as you got there, throwing open the door mere seconds after Alex parked the car.

The gardens were fairly empty, but not totally so; a few people roamed about here and there, but they were mostly adults. Alex trailed close behind you as you began to explore, surveying all the new plants that had been added since the last time you’d been able to visit.

“I should’ve brought a camera,” he mentions as you study a patch of dahlias, maroons and oranges beautiful in the soft light of the scattered lampposts around the gardens. “You’re so pretty.” The last comment was softer than his first, amplified by his sudden presence next to you, an arm slipping around your waist. You glanced over to meet his gaze, already stuck on you, tilting your head just so. Something was definitely going on with him. But knowing Alex, he wasn’t telling you for a reason, so it’d be best to just let him get to whatever it is on his own. In all honesty, his tone had struck you silent, and you didn’t know what to say. A kiss on his jaw replaced any words you could’ve forced out of your mouth.

The two of you stuck to the other’s sides as you continued to stroll through the gardens, conversing about both the flowers and whatever tangential topic struck your thoughts.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on a bench next to your favorite flowers of the night, the honeysuckle. Something about them was drawing you towards them, and Alex had insisted you sit for a while and talk. His jacket had found its way to your shoulders a while ago, due to the slight shiver you had experienced a few times from a breeze that was a bit too strong, and your boyfriend immediately jumping on the idea that, god forbid, you were a bit too cold. He would never admit it, but sometimes he was very protective of your comfort level. It was sweet.

You were busy looking up at the stars which were growing brighter as the night wore on when Alex called your name softly. His hand slipped into yours again, beginning to play with your fingers like he always did when something was bothering him.

“You know,” he paused, looking down at his lap and seeming very interested in watching his thumb stroke and rub gently over your knuckles. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best boyfriend over the past year… I know I’m temperamental and annoying sometimes—”

“Alex,” you stopped him with a gentle smile. “Like I told you last night, you’re my favorite person. No conditions and no buts.” He still wouldn’t look at you, so you took the opportunity to brush his hair from his face to know you were listening attentively. “What is it?”

“I just—” He sighed, his shoulders readjusting as he sat up and finally turned his head to you. “I really love you.” His eyes were full of worry as he made his confession, and all you could do is squeeze his hand in reply with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ve never really committed to someone before, so I’ve just been… really worried about telling you. I don’t know. I know you like me, every logical part of my brain shows me that. I know I would be devastated if you left. I just—I worry you don’t wanna be stuck with someone like me sometimes. Especially when my flatmates barely tolerate me. I don’t know how you manage to all the time.”

“It’s not something I have to think about, I just do,” you shrugged. Your brain was working on mostly auto-pilot at his words, the confession spreading warmth through your body like wildfire. “I love you, idiot. Of course I love you.” A grin spread across Alex’s face at your words, both in relief and in affection. Before you could add on to your statement, he rushed forward to smother you in an excited kiss, his hand slipping up to cradle your jaw. And then he repeated the motion, a few times over, a punctuation to his confession, and a release of worry.

“Fuck.” He murmured as he pulled away for the last time. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, as he tore his eyes away from you to lean over and pluck a honeysuckle flower from next to the bench.

“Alex, I wasn’t kidding when I said that’s not what those are for—"

“Be quiet, baby, I’m being romantic,” he shushed, tucking the flower gently above your ear. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped from you and caused you to tilt your head; just a bit too much, as the flower drifted into your lap. Alex let out another curse and carefully slipped it back to where it was, eyeing it like a disobedient dog. “I was gonna do that before I told you.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s still cute now,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing and tugged on the hand joined with yours. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the flower police arrest you for theft.”

“Please, they’d never catch us. I wouldn’t let them,” he scoffed, playing along. “Besides, we’re too cute to be prosecuted.”

[stargazing-enby]

I had a dream that harry and draco were both aurors and they were married to ginny and astoria and then got sent to a mission and they had to do a steak out????? But ofc there was tension so they were like uuuuhhhhh we should bring our wives bc uuuuhhh we cant be away from them too long ya know and they all spend a month or two in a house and shit and ginny and astoria fall in love and bc theyre badass ladies they are upfront about it and then harry and draco are like.... Guess we should a dress

our thing too huh?? And then albus and scorpious have 2 moms and 2 dads (ginny and astoria were both pregnant btw, dont know if i already said that) and it was weirdly amazing and i didnt know who else to tell so yea

***

Anon, your mind. First of all, thanks so much for sharing your dream with me because it's honestly amazing. Second of all, I was re-reading your asks the other day wondering if I should try to write this, and soon after that I took the (ill-advised) decision to take a nap and started dreaming about your prompt. Now I feel like I share a special, oneiric connection with you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2.3k | Teen and Up | Falling in Love, Break Up, Getting Together, Kid Fic, Pregnancy | Read on AO3

At first, Ginny had been mad. Offended, even, that her husband had thought it a great idea to make her share a house with Astoria Malfoy for Merlin knew how long while he and Draco ran off to chase some suspect.

“The only thing that woman and I have in common is that we're pregnant,” Ginny had argued, “and that we're both married to bloody idiots!” 

Three weeks into the stakeout, however, Ginny had to admit she’d been wrong. Although wrong wasn't perhaps the most accurate of word choices, since she and Astoria were, like she’d suspected, completely different kinds of people. Where Ginny was passionate and intense, Astoria was quiet, an aura of serenity always surrounding her. Where Ginny bickered and joked and threw jibes around with her husband whenever she had the chance, Astoria was all subtle touches; a small caress to Draco's shoulder before they left home in the morning, a careful take care whispered in his ear. 

Where Ginny was fire, Astoria was water: cleansing and soothing and calm. 

But she had been utterly, dangerously wrong in that she couldn’t help but find Astoria Malfoy intoxicating. 

“Darling.” Astoria had recently taken to calling her that when they were on their own, in a tone that Ginny could not bring herself to believe to be purely neutral. “Are you sure you're not tired? I sincerely doubt they'll arrive before dawn this morning—we don't have to stay awake if you don't want to.”

“No, no—” Ginny couldn’t help but shiver as the small realisation washed over her for seemingly the hundredth time that night: the realisation that Harry, as much as she adored him, could not have had any less to do with her wanting to stay awake. “I don't want to give up the chance to beat you one more time.” 

Astoria smiled at her, cheeky.

“Very well,” she said, and, after a moment, moved one of her knights on the board. She didn't take her eyes off Ginny as the Knight destroyed one of Ginny's pawns; her eyes sparkled with naughty mirth, and Ginny's breath caught. 

A moment later, a wave of guilt drowned the butterflies in her stomach, and Ginny looked down at the chess board and told herself that she was in love with her husband. Utterly, helplessly in love. 

Except you aren't, a little voice said. You love him. You love him more than anything. You’ve loved him since forever; you'll love him for forever, because he'll always be the person who gave you your son. But you are not in love with him anymore. You haven't been for a while now. 

“Ginny.” 

She raised her head. 

“You're not thinking about the game.” 

It wasn't a question. 

Astoria knew. She wasn't stupid. She knew she wasn't meant to be calling Ginny darling, knew of the emotions—deep, fierce, raging—that ran under Ginny's skin whenever they shared a smile, a look; whenever one's fingertips found the other's knuckles and their knees brushed and bumped almost on their own accord in the middle of their nightly conversations. 

“I'm not,” Ginny said. “I'm thinking about us.” 

Astoria let out a breath, shoulders sagging. She looked down, but Ginny waited, gaze steady, for Astoria to look back up at her. 

“It's late,” Astoria said after a moment. 

“I think I'm falling in love with you.”

Astoria closed her eyes, a slow frown twisting her sharp features. 

“I know.” It was barely a murmur. 

“I know you know,” Ginny said, a challenge. 

Astoria met her gaze, then, and Ginny's resolve wavered when she realised just how terrified Astoria was.

“Hey,” Ginny murmured, standing up. Astoria, lips trembling, buckled over to make room for her in the settee. “Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry—” 

“It's not your fault.” Even though her head was turned away from Ginny, Astoria leaned into her touch. “None of this is your fault. Draco is—” Her voice broke, and Ginny held her hand with both of hers, aching, yearning to hold Astoria in her arms and take the pain away. But she couldn't. “Draco is a wonderful man. He's attentive, and loving, and he's funny, and…”

A tear fell into Astoria's shirt over her tummy. 

“And he's my best friend. But he and I are not in love. We never have been.”

That caught Ginny off-guard. 

“Never?” 

Astoria laughed, a broken, pathetic sound. 

“Never. Our parents planned our union soon after I left Hogwarts. I was horrified at first, but after getting to know him, there was a time when I really thought I would fall in love with him in time. That he'd fall in love with me. And we did end up loving each other, mind you: he will always be my closest friend. It's just not…”

“Yeah,” Ginny said softly. “I understand.”

Astoria turned to look at her, then. Seeing her teared up made something inside Ginny snap, and she reached out, held Astoria's cheeks in her hands, thumbing at her messy tears. 

“Harry and I were in love for a long time, but… I think he knows just as well as I do that the love we feel now is purely platonic.” She smiled—chuckled. “In fact, a small part of me suspects whatever he feels for Draco right now is more intense than what he ever felt for me.” 

That tore a laugh out of Astoria. 

“I would not be surprised if that was the case. Those two…” She shook her head. “They're incorrigible.”

Ginny groaned in agreement. A moment later, though, her smile faded away and she was left with Astoria's face cradled in her hands. Their legs pressed together, their eyes searching the other's face. Scared, but hopeful. 

Sliding her hands down Astoria's neck and shoulders, and then squeezing her arms, Ginny let out a slow, deep breath. 

“I think we need to have a conversation with our husbands.”

***

“You… What?” 

To Harry's credit, he looked more baffled than anything else. 

“We're in love,” Astoria repeated, voice steady, but gaze pleading with Draco to understand. 

“I… Okay. Okay. Give me one second.” Harry turned around and sat down on the nearest chair. 

Draco remained still. As far as Ginny was aware, he’d barely even blinked since they'd started explaining the situation to them.

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry asked after a moment, turning to Draco. When Draco shook his head, gaze still fixed in some distant point in space, Harry stood again, leaning his weight against the table. “Okay, so first of all, this is all extremely awkward.” 

“We were aware of that much, thank you,” Astoria said. 

“I mean, both of you are pregnant. With our babies.” He gestured between him and Draco. “Not to mention that we're married, although that's slightly less permanent…” 

Draco huffed, and the three of them turned to him. When he didn't say anything, Harry continued. 

“But I guess it… makes sense? I mean—you two are sort of like… the perfect opposites, you know. I always knew you would get on well. I didn't suspect you'd get on this well, but, hey—” 

“Have you—” Draco's head seemed to be stuck mid-shake, eyes scrunched closed. “Have you done anything? With one another?” 

“No, darling.” The word sounded different, Ginny thought, when Astoria used it for Draco. “We were waiting to tell you.” 

He nodded, but didn't say anything else. When Astoria approached him, Ginny took a step back to give them some space and leaned into the table with Harry. 

“I love you,” she told him. 

“And I you,” Harry said, eyes low. Gulping, he took Ginny's hand in his. “But… I mean, I think both of us had noticed that something was… that something wasn't…” 

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “I know.” 

He looked up at her, and Merlin, he looked so, so vulnerable in that moment that Ginny wished more than ever that she could love him the way he deserved to be loved. But that simply wasn’t for her to do.

“I still would like for us to raise our son together,” he murmured. 

“We will. Harry, I don't care what happens from now on. You're still my best friend, and you're still the father of my kid. Nothing is going to change that. Okay?” 

Harry nodded, and, biting his lip, turned his gaze to Draco and Astoria. After a moment, Ginny did too. 

Draco was crying. 

“Come on, let's give them some space,” she said, pushing herself off the table. Harry followed her out of the room. 

***

“Draco…”

No reply came. Harry looked at him, but Draco's gaze was fixed somewhere outside the car window. 

They'd spent countless hours inside that car, in that very watch post. Hours chatting, and bickering, and taking turns to sleep while the other watched the house for any signs of activity. 

It had never been awkward before now. 

“Look, we need to talk,” Harry said. Draco huffed, unamused. “We need to talk because we both know our wives are not the only ones who’d noticed something wasn’t right before yesterday’s conversation. They were just the only ones brave enough to be upfront about it.” 

In the moment it took Draco to turn around, Harry thought of Draco's head on his shoulder; of the way it had felt when Draco had fallen asleep there, of the way he'd been so careful not to let it fall so Draco wouldn't wake up. He thought of the way their arms brushed whenever they walked, wands in hand, toward a dangerous location. Thought of the very reason they'd been so adamant that their wives should come with them on this mission: a truth they'd refused to confront, and that had gone and slapped them in the face anyway. 

“Do you understand how terrifying this is for me?” Draco finally said, body turned to Harry, but gaze fixed on his knees. “To know that my life as I know it, as I always expected it to be, is over? Do you think”—he looked up at Harry, and Merlin, he looked so scared Harry had to hold back from reaching out to him—“that I haven't noticed that I'm in love with Harry Potter, and not with the woman I'm about to have a baby with?” 

Harry held his breath. Searched in Malfoy's eyes, desperately, for any hint that he was about to take back his words. Then, almost out of breath:

“I'm in love with you too.”

Draco let out a desperate laugh. 

“I know that, you bloody idiot,” he choked out. “Fuck, I know.”

Harry bit his lip. Reached out, rested a hand over Draco's trembling, fisted own. 

For a few moments, neither spoke. 

“I'm sorry,” Harry murmured eventually. “I'm sorry things can't be different.” 

Draco started playing with Harry's fingers, and Harry closed his eyes—marvelled in how warm Draco's hands felt. How careful they were even as he fidgeted. 

“I'm glad they told us,” Draco said. “I want Astoria to be happy, and I know she'd never be completely happy with me.” A sigh. “I wouldn't, either. Not with her. I just… I need some time to come to terms with it.” 

Harry's fingers turned and turned between Draco's nervous own. 

“That's okay. I don't mind waiting for you.”

Their eyes met. 

“Okay,” Draco said. 

Harry squeezed his hand. Smiled. 

“Okay.”

***

The whoosh of the hearth letting someone through was quickly followed by two high-pitched squeals. By two very excited cries of, “Daddy!” 

Harry smiled to himself when he heard Draco's laughter coming from the living room as he—presumably—was tackled to the floor by Albus and Scorpius. 

“Boooys,” Harry called after a moment. “Come grab some cookies from the kitchen!” 

A few seconds later, the two five-year-old tornadoes were rushing toward the tray, barely sparing Harry a glance. Harry shook his head, grinning. 

“Where's my hug?” 

“Daddy!” Albus, face already full of crumbs, ran toward Harry's arms. “Your cookies are the best!” 

“Mmh!” Scorpius agreed. 

“I'm glad you like them.” Harry ruffled Al's hair. “Do save some for later, though!” 

Draco walked in, grabbed a cookie. “How are your mums?” he asked while he gave Harry a sonorous kiss on the cheek, the crumbs on Draco’s mouth scratching against his stubble. 

Harry was about to complain when Albus stretched his arms out, asking to be picked up. 

“They have a date today,” he—quite loudly—whispered in Harry's ear. 

“Do they, now!” 

“A date in a restawant with candles and a lot of different forks,” Albus explained. “And—and they were wearing really pretty dresses!” 

“Really? What colour?” Draco asked, picking Scorpius up too. 

“Mum's was red,” Scorpius said. “And mummy's was, uh, it was really pretty, and—” 

“And sparkly!” Albus squealed. “Black and sparkly!” 

“Wow! I don’t think Draco and I own anything so pretty!” Harry turned to Draco. “What do you think?” 

“Hmmm…” Draco dragged the sound out, sharing a mischievous look with Scorpius. “I’m not sure… I think we might have some sparkly garments hidden in the back of our wardrobe, but I’m sure Al and Scorp won’t be interested in—”

“We want to see!” Scorpius screamed, wiggling in his father’s arms. 

“We want to see, we want to see!” Albus chanted.

Harry and Draco shared a smile. 

“Very well, then,” Draco said solemnly, setting Scorpius down. “Let’s see which of you can find the prettiest clothes in our bedroom for us to wear today.” 

The kids darted upstairs, and, before following them, Harry took Draco’s hand in his and kissed his husband’s cheek in return.

[mono-red-menace]

this is how i do therapy now by the way. my therapist moved and i can't find one who helps me have a dialogue nor do i have the willpower to create new relationships with therapists for this purpose. i have to put these somewhere where someone Could see it. but i don't care if anyone reads it or not. i try to content warning them, to not Subject anyone (it can get pretty heavy, sometimes i explicitly describe trauma, i always cw those but people don't always block tags) but i'm not very good at it.

This is me working through my mind, giving it structure, trying to work my way out of it.

i have a lot of issues and i'm working to be more mindful of myself and let myself admit things.

maybe i'll stop having these.

they're not flashbacks are they?

unwanted memories which thrust their way into the front of my head. upsetting me. ok it sounds like ptsd but i guess bc my thoughts aren't vivid i assumed it wasn't. hm.

hate that most of my memories feel foreign, and the ones that don't are Immensely Painful

i've always been bad at understanding people like. with regards to emotional reactions and how to find my way through conversations and.

it's easy when it's about something i know, like when it's about me, or something i enjoy like linguistics or certain fantasy things.

but when it comes to like... manners, mannerisms, reactions, etc. i can... feel empathy and sympathy, but i don't have the brainpower to. process it too much. i focus a lot on how it's best for me to proceed in the conversation, how it's best to show them i'm listening, etc.

people often get mad at me, for seemingly only engaging when it interests me, it's not that..

i dont... know how. to be friends with people.

like. idk i'm thinking about Emma again, she was always so angry at me like "when i was talking about what was going on with me, you didn't have anything to say, just 'oh i'm sorry' and then you would talk about yourself! you only think about yourself!" (paraphrasing imagine if my memory was that good)

but.. i wasn't sure how to explain myself then, i was much less. aware of everything then. i was always in a mild dissociation, so my already bad memory got worse. actually i think i still am, but with more lucidity.

and besides, i get so scared when people are angry at me i turn it on myself. but

i really wish i could explain to her that i was doing all i could thinking about her, all i wanted was to make her happy, and.. i wasn't sure how to get around to that.

my vague sentiments were genuine reassurances, but i'm not good at.. navigating conversations like that. i'm not sure what she needed, but as she seemed to get more upset, i changed my strategy, i tried to do something to be more engaging, which was

put it in perspective of my own experiences, as in... i guess, "i understand that actually, a similar thing happened with me," yk yk but.. i guess it's hard to.. make my intention known. she assumed i was changing the topic to me, but what i really wanted to say, i guess, but wasn't aware enough to, was...

"I understand you're in pain right now. It's a pain I experienced too. But I'm here for you."

it's... harder for me to say that in text. i don't struggle to speak nearly as much as i do in text. (trust me, i still struggle irl)

there's no.. it's harder to discern tone here. when i read things, i read it in a neutral tone unless certain conditions are applied, like emojis, keysmashes, etc. because. it's just hard to pick up tone in text. even neurotypical people say so.

but.. idk that's a little beside the point.

it's.. what she needed was for me to be there for her but i didn't... know how to through text. and. i couldn't be there to hug her and say "it's okay. i'm here for you."

i'm still not sure even if that's exactly what she wanted, hehe...

i just have those unresolved feelings.

i hold no romantic feelings for her anymore. i still love her, she'll always be a part of my heart, but.. with how we hurt each other, there's no romantic love.

it's unresolved in that. i wish we could have. worked through it, like.

"this is what i felt" to each other, exchange that. understand that neither of us intended to hurt each other, but we did, and.

i just want the resolution of letting her know how much i actually cared about Her. and how it got blinded by my trauma and abandonment issues and childishness and. with my attitude it probably felt a lot like i was. not taking it seriously. or.. like i though of her as like, Mine. but.. i just felt like she was someone who understood me and i didn't want to lose her and. my understandings of relationships sucked. and still suck. and my trauma gets in the way. and.

i realise that.. there never were romantic feelings. it.. i just wanted to be friends.

my trauma always. clouds my emotions. if someone compliments me too much, calls me cute, just... sees me as a person... it's hard for me to.. not.

i have Borderline Personality Disorder, and what i'm saying is. I have a habit of placing people who are kind to me on pedestals.

and it gets mistaken, in my heart, as romantic feeling.

and. i'm sorry to her that i hurt her. and i understand she didn't mean to hurt me.

i just... wish we could understand each other and never see each other again.

i guess the resolution i need to have, then. is

i need to realise we already won't see each other again. and I understand her, now. and.

i guess i'm trying to avoid typing it, it's skirting by brain because it doesn't want to show itself because it's a painful thought but

i just.. am stuck on wanting to fix it. i want to fix everything, but i don't know how. and.

it feels like it's my job to fix it, right? like, i hurt her, i should help fix it, but... i don't know how. it's impossible for me to know how, only she can know, and if i tried to fix it, i'd only fuck it up more, right.

this isn't me talking bad about myself.

the two of us didn't mix well. what i'm saying is that, due to our histories, self image, mental illness, disorder, and, now, history, our relationship was always going to be rocky, and trying to force it, to.

fix things, would only make it worse.

and.. i often wish she would help fix the things with me she fucked up... but. the idea of it. upsets me.

Bleghhhhh

i'm using a lot of words to explain myself. typical of me. i can never find my way through these dialogues, they're like mazes. i find a way in and can't work my way out so i give up.

this was good. i needed to realise these things i wouldn't let myself.

1. i cant fix this.

2. she can't fix this.

3. there won't be a resolution.

4.

i'm still holding on to four. i don't want to... admit it to myself. because she cared about me. i keep prefacing it with "probablies" or saying in my head "we can't know that" and trying to convince myself that even if we did there's unpredictability to it.. and...

it's not something i'm ready to admit. but now that i've admitted these things to myself, i'll be able to admit the next thing later :)

[neverendingparable]

Tw: verbal abuse, transphobia, suicide mention, self harm mention

Somehow it feels like they always end up here. The tension in the air is thick enough to suffocate in. Maso pretends not to notice as he shrugs off his jacket and walks into the dining room.

Ezra is already sitting at the table, waiting silently. His face is neutral but the coldness radiating off him is unmistakable. A calm before the storm and with the stillness he watches Maso, it seems like the storm will be catastrophic.

The routine feels familiar, although Maso can't recall the last time they fought. Perhaps it was always brewing in the underground, waiting for the perfect moment to bubble up.

He sits across from Ezra dutifully and offers a hesitant smile.

'Let's talk,' he wants to say. 'Let's work it out.'

Ezra doesn't return it, but his gaze has darkened.

"I have something to tell you." He says curtly.

"Sure." Maso tries not to sound too eager. Talking is so much better than brewing in this angry silence and he wants to know what he did wrong so he can change it. He feels indebted to Ezra somehow, guilty despite not knowing what he was guilty about.

They've been living together ever since they graduated out of high school and moved from their home town. At first it seemed to go well, and there were times when they could've been called boyfriends. Ezra was supportive despite Maso's disfigurement and it felt like everything that had plagued them in childhood had disappeared. 

It was just Maso and Ezra against the world, until a coldness settled in between them and Maso found his friend distancing himself more and more as the days went by. Maybe now he will find out what happened, what he did wrong to cause Ezra to reject him.

"I feel like you're just using me as an emotional crutch," Ezra started. "Like I am just your toy, your replacement therapist, a boyfriend without me getting any of the benefits. You demand too much from me and it's wearing me down."

The words cut sharper than any knives and for the first time in Maso's life, he was speechless. Ezra showed no sympathy for the shocked hurt on his friend's face.

"You are not easy to love, you know. You are loud, arrogant, you think you can make up for your bad traits by being overtly doting or sexual but it just disgusts me. I do so much to accept your body for the way it is but you can't even decide if you want to be a boy or a girl, Stanley."

I can't stand your constant neediness but I can't say anything because you might end up getting depressed again and we all know how much you make the world around you miserable when you feel so."

Ezra's voice has risen with a hateful vigor. Every word seems to have been bubbling below the surface for a long, long time.

"I'm going to have to babysit you after this to make sure you don't do anything selfishly drastic like cut yourself or attempt suicide. I mean, do you ever think about anyone else? Did you ever consider how it feels to have such a messed up friend? I can't even take you out of the house in the summer because if people aren't staring at your arms they're staring at your scars or trying to figure out what sort of freak you are-"

"Since when has my transness bothered you?" Maso interjects defensively. He doesn't know whether to yell or cry. The latter will certainly get Ezra to make fun of him or worse, walk out for good.

"Since always." Ezra sneers without a moment's hesitation. "I thought it was just a phase. But you kept going, forcing me to defend you to not look like a jerk in front of the others. And then you started 'crossdressing' and it was like make up your damn mind what you want to be!"

"Pssh! You like my skirts."

"You're such a child. You can't take anything seriously."

"Maybe." Maso stands up, trying to get leverage of the situation. Ezra's glare was withering but he refuses to give up so easily without a fight. "If you hate all those things about me so much, why didn't you ever say anything? How was I supposed to know you were just pretending to tolerate me?"

"You would've realized that sooner if you took time to focus on someone else but yourself. I was trying to spare you the humiliation but-"

"But nothing! You should've said something, Ezzy. I could've made it right. I could've done something but if you're just going to hold it in and pretend everything's fine, then that's on you."

Ezra stands up as well and what little leverage Maso had on height is gone. He doesnt think it matters anymore, because now he's mad as well. He has been self absorbed, he can admit to that. And he hasnt always been a good friend. But part of a proper friendship requires communication from both sides.

"You never listen." Ezra's tone has changed. Maso is certain that under different circumstances, he would've never stood a chance. It was so full of hurt, anger and hatred, all directed at him.

"I tried and you ignored me for the sake of playing the victim. Don't you dare blame this all on me, Stanley."

A moment of silence passes between them as the two men glare at each other. And to his own surprise, Maso relents.

"Okay." He says, stepping back. "Okay, I'm sorry. I admit I wasnt the best friend. I want to be though, Ezra. Just tell me what I have to do."

Ezra's laugh is cruel. "Oh, you wish it were so easy, dont you? You're rotten to the core, Stanley and no apology or therapy will help you."

"So what do you want me to do? Leave you alone? I can pack my bags if that's what you want. But I want to do right by you-"

"No. I can't let you go out into the world and mess  up someone else." His path to the front door is blocked now, but Maso can't help rolling his eyes.

"Come on, Ezzy. This isn't necessary. You know I dont go apeshit."

"Don't call me that, Stanley."

"Seriously, why are you doing this? What's really the matter?"

Maso approaches him carefully. It isn't like Ezra to get violent but after today, he doesnt think he knows him as well as he thought.

"I feel like you are just using me as an emotional crutch. Like I am just your toy, your replacement therapist, a boyfriend without me getting any of the benefits."

Maso falters. "Wait...what?"

"You demand too much from me and it's wearing me down. You're not easy to love, Stanley."

"You've already said that, Ezra. Like, five minutes ago?" Something is nagging at him. Ezra keeps glaring at him like Maso is shit he just scraped off his shoe and slowly it dawns on him.

Everything Ezra said, the most painful accusations and insults was everything Maso was scared he would hear one day. He never put it in words but this very situation is one he dreaded he would walk into one day, find out that Ezra's kindness and patience was just a lie and that his best friend hated him deep down. He never was able to convince himself it wasnt true, especially after he left Ezra to return back to the Office.

It's not like I didnt give him the opportunity to join me. I tried to get him to come along. I didnt just leave him, I told him I didnt want to stay and that if he wanted to tag along I would protect him.

The hurt in his chest was replaced with indignation and when Maso looks at Ezra again, he doesn't wither under the glare.

"You know what? Fuck this. If you really hate me so much you dont want anything to do with me anymore, then I'm leaving. I'm sure I'll find someone else who can give me a second chance and if not, then I'll just keep on going alone."

"You're never going to find anyone who tolerates you, Stanley." Ezra spits.

Maso steps forward and his lips curl into a sarcastic sneer. "Eat me, Jaxden. I deserve better than you."

Something in Ezra's face twitches. For a moment Maso is sure he's going to pounce and tear all four of his arms out but then the entire world shifts and suddenly he's snapped back to reality.

He left Ezra. For the Office. He's no longer in that particular Office because he went on a mission to spy on a creepy human Maelle. He got beaten up per request and as he went back through Michael's doors to deliver the information he gathered to Alice, something went wrong. He's been stuck in the loop of his worst nightmare realized for the last week and now it's all coming back to him.

The Ezra doesnt disappear as he expected. He - or it - just keeps glaring at Maso like he wants to rip him apart but he quickly fades into the background of Maso's attention when he realizes where they are.

Standing in an Office he unfortunately knew too well.

Except, unlike before, it isn't bustling with Mariellas flitting back and forth from experiment chambers to research rooms. There are no sounds of machinery or screams or even the buzzing of electricity whenever the hallways got quiet. The entire Office that had once belonged to Jon is still as the grave, dark, depressing. 

A heaviness settles all around Maso as he took it in. But before he can really comprehend where he was, the scene changes.

[beesartandstuffs]

Shot in the Dark: Bittersweet-- Chapter 1

(YALL I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO WRITE THIS)

(dont forget to LIKE, REBLOG, and COMMENT!!)

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (find more stories here!)

~~

It had been six months since the manor burned.

Emma tried to keep busy. She resigned as District Attorney and closed down her law practice, instead choosing to get a job at the local bank. She was welcomed into the business and adjusted fairly quickly. Her coworkers were polite and friendly, and she liked that they didn't get into her business.

She liked that nobody asked questions.

Privacy was a luxury, in those early days. It was difficult to walk down the street without being accosted by news reporters and journalists and paparazzi, all asking questions. Emma took to traveling in secret and only when absolutely necessary.

Eventually, most of the media grew bored. New exciting news drowned out the death of Markiplier and the burning of the manor, and eventually, the survivors were left mostly alone.

Now, six months later, things were quiet. The only person she ever heard from was Abe, through sporadic phone calls late at night. He had turned in his badge as a police detective, but only a month later had opened his own private investigation office. "It's different, being your own boss," he had said one night. "But it's… well, it's a good different, y'know?"

They didn't talk about the manor. Occasionally he updated her on the statuses of the others— she assumed he did the same for them. Benjamin was having a hard time adjusting to his new office job, but evidently had made a lady friend. Chef was contentedly working at a small independent restaurant, after finishing three more weeks at culinary school. Service was mediocre but the food was good, Abe said.

The Colonel had been given a life sentence. Abe visited him when allowed, more for the sake of the others than anything. Evidently the Colonel hadn't been causing any trouble, spending most of his time writing in notebooks and asking for more when they were full.

The one person Abe wouldn't tell Emma about was Damien. "Call him and ask him yourself," Abe urged. "I can promise you he's not mad."

Emma always came up with one excuse or another, and Abe would retreat.

However, one night, Emma had gotten ready for bed and was reading a book while sitting by the telephone. As always, she planned to wait for thirty minutes, and if Abe didn't call she would go to bed.

This time, she had barely sat down before the phone rang. She picked it up, and offered a curious, "Hello, Abe?"

The voice on the other end was not Abe's, but rather one she hadn't heard in many months.

"Hello, Emma, it's… it's Damien. Abe said you'd be available about this time."

Emma's hand froze to the receiver. Her greeting had been open, unguarded, used to the casual intimacy of her conversations with Abe. Now she was left raw, struck down by her best friend's cautious voice.

She covered the mouthpiece of the receiver and cleared her throat, then put it back to her cheek. "Hello, Damien."

"Hello."

There was a long silence. Emma knew he hadn't hung up; she could still hear him breathing on the other end. "...How are you?" she offered. Her voice was distant. Guarded.

"I'm well," Damien responded automatically, then paused. She heard him grunt softly in frustration. His politely unattached attitude fell away. "No, actually, no, I'm not alright. I'm… I'm quite unwell, in fact."

Judging by his tone, Emma could wager his illness was of the emotional sort rather than the physical. "I understand," she said. A piece of her emotional shield fell away, revealing a sliver of genuine empathy.

"Emma." Damien was pleading, suddenly. "Please, may I… may I see you?"

"S-see me?"

"Tomorrow. Please meet with me tomorrow. At a park, at a cafe, neutral ground, whatever you wish. Just… let me talk, let us talk, and then we never have to see each other again."

Her heart stopped at the very idea. "Damien, I can't…"

"An hour, just give me one hour, and then— and then I'll leave you alone."

"Damien—!"

"Please, Emma. I… I don't have anyone else."

Those final words, offered barely above a whisper. The previous ones having rushed out like a burst dam.

Damien was hurting. Of course he was. Had anyone spoken to him since the manor? Had everyone been giving him space, giving him so much space he had no one left to grieve with?

How ironic that the one he turned to was his sister's killer.

"Yes," Emma choked, then cleared her throat again. The next day was Sunday and she had no plans. No excuse. "Yes, I'll meet with you. Everman Park at 4:00, is that all right?"

"That's… that's wonderful. Yes, that will do nicely."

They fumbled with their goodbyes, each hesitant to hang up.

The minute she set the receiver down it rang again, and she snatched it back up. "Damien?" she croaked.

The cheerful voice on the other end was no longer her best friend. "I see that conversation went well," Abe said.

“Did you set that up?”

“I told him to call you. That’s it. Anything else is out of my jurisdiction.”

Emma growled and Abe laughed. “I can’t believe you, Abe.”

His voice lost its joking manner. “And I can’t believe you, Bailey. I mean, six months? Really? I was starting to think I was his only friend.”

Her throat closed. “That’s not fair, Abe.”

“Not a single part of this is fair, kid. Not a single one.” His voice gentled, and there was the tell-tale creak of his old office chair. She could picture him leaning back, maybe pinching a cigar from the box on his desk. “Now I’m going to assume you’ve scheduled some kind of longer conversation considering this one was so short?”

For some reason, Emma felt a blush warm her cheeks. A flutter in her chest at the thought of seeing Damien again. Like some kind of... silly schoolgirl. “Tomorrow, at the park.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Abe!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you guys some time. I get it.” But she could hear the grin in his voice and despite herself, she felt herself smiling as well.

She didn't realize it, but she was humming as she got into bed that night.

~~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad @markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork @withjust-a-bite@221biotchplease@gmcfyuffins @the-asexual-reaper @satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!) 

[thorne93]

Blessing

Prompt: (2 prompts combined) Imagine your father’s always hated Sebastian but he has allowed you to date him because he doesn’t believe it’s serious. When Sebastian pays him a visit to ask for your hand in marriage, your dad loses it and makes it clear that he’ll never accept that and even makes Sebastian cry. & Imagine having an older brother who hates your boyfriend Sebastian, so when he visits you one morning and finds him there, he assumes he’s sleeping with you now, so your brother threatens him along the lines of “I don’t know what she sees in you but if you ever do anything to hurt my little sister, I will kill you.” (courtesy of @theartofimagining13)

Word Count: 2989

Warnings: angst, verbal arguments, crying, language

Notes: beta’d by the incomparable @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please@superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling

Sebastian Stan: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange  @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @shamptain-shmerica @crazybutconfidentaf

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m so glad you stayed,” you mused as you laid on your bed, in your comfortable spring time pajamas, your hand reaching towards Sebastian, your current boyfriend.

“Me too,” he mused before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss. “I need to start getting ready though so…”

“No, just a little bit longer,” you begged, wanting to stay in bed and cuddle.

“Don’t you have a trial today?”

You groaned, shutting your eyes against the too-bright sunshine that filled the palatial room. “Ugh, please don’t remind me.”

“I have to, I don’t want you getting fired on account of me,” he stated as he got up and started to button his shirt, recalling how much distaste your entire family had for him. It made him nervous that any small slip up or mistake that may occur for you would some how blow back and be his fault.

“You’re right. I’ll jump in the shower.”

“I’ll get the coffee and breakfast going,” he promised sweetly before you rolled out of bed. You went to go around him into the bathroom but he grabbed your wrist and whipped you back into him. “Hey, you can’t just leave me to go get naked and wet without a kiss,” he said mischievously. You crinkled your nose at him before kissing him once, but he wouldn’t let you stop. He planted kiss after kiss on you before you ordered him to stop and let you shower. As you stepped in, he went out the kitchen, ready to fire everything up for breakfast, but a knock interrupted his rummaging.

“Coming!” he called as he made his way over to the door. On the other side was Eric, your older brother, a renowned surgeon. Just like all your family. They were either politicians, doctors, or lawyers. You fell under the lawyer category.  “Oh, hi, Eric,” Sebastian greeted, realizing him being at your home so early sent up red flags. “Y/N is in the shower, so I--”

He quirked an eyebrow up, clad in an expensive suit, his jacket hung over his arm. “So, you’re sleeping over here now? Is that better for your commute?” he asked, abhorrence lacing in his tone as he stepped inside the home.

Sebastian knew what Eric was driving at. “I just stayed the night, Eric, no big deal. She is my girlfriend after all. Six months now,” he reminded as politely as he could.

“She’s an adult, she can make her own decisions,” he remarked with venom. “I just don’t know what it is she sees in you. Where you could possibly help her in life,” he noted, his head cocked to the side as if he were trying to uncover the meaning of a painting.

“Maybe it’s not always about that,” Sebastian suggested in a neutral, non-threatening tone.

“Oh please, it’s always about that,” he answered. “Well I was going to come by for breakfast and wish her luck on the trial, but clearly three is a crowd.”

“I’ll let her know you stopped by,” Seb informed as your older brother made his way back toward the front door.

“If you’re capable,” he said with a snark. Sebastian was about to close the ornate wooden door behind a retreating Eric, but spun and faced him. “I don’t know if this is a phase or what for her, but if you ever do anything to hurt her, I will kill you.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he responded with faux kindness.

“I mean it, Stan. At the very least, you’ll never work in this country again,” he vowed, darkness in his voice and eyes.

“I won’t hurt her, Eric,” he promised, seriousness firm in his tone.

“Good. For your sake, I hope you remember that.”

-----------------------------------

It’d been two years now since you’d started to date Sebastian, he’d moved in after the first year and things were getting better all the time. He’d bought the ring, he was ready to pop the question, but he was nothing if not traditional. So he stopped by the one place he never thought he would go without you -- your father’s mansion.

With sweaty palms and weak knees, he knocked on the door, to have a maid answer it.

“Oh, hello Mr. Stan,” she greeted.

“Hi Helga. Is Mr. Y/L/N in?”

“In his study. Let me get him,” she offered as she gestured for him to come inside. He stepped into the foyer while she fetched Jack. He returned to see Sebastian alone.

“What are you doing here?” he asked curiously.

“I just need a moment of your time, sir,” he promised quickly, his nerves still alight with fear.

“Make it quick,” he warned, gesturing to the living room for them to go inside the ostentatious living room with warm reds, browns, and golds. They sat across from each other on the brown leather chairs. “Well?” he pressed, making Sebastian jump slightly. “Why are you here without, Y/N?”

“I...I wanted to ask you something,” he stammered, trying to calm his nerves. He knew your father would never respect his question or him if he acted like a bumbling idiot.

“So...ask,” he barked, waiting for him to get to the point, and annoyed that it was taking so long.

Swallowing his fear, he blurted it out. “I wanted to ask for your blessing for your daughter’s hand in marriage. To me. I want to ask her to marry me.”

Jack’s face went from annoyed to outraged. His expression drew grim and disbelieving. “Have you lost your god damn mind?” he demanded in a low tone.

Sebastian shied away from the verbal assault.

“I let you date my daughter because I didn't think this was serious. It worried me when you moved in, but I prayed you would fuck up and she’d see it was just a phase,” he confessed after he stood and began pacing. “But now you have the nerve to come in here and ask me this?”

“It’s just your blessing. Sir, I love your daughter.”

“Dont,” he warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare say that to me. You’re not good enough for her. You think you can give her what she needs?”

“She just needs someone to support and love her, sir, I’m confident I can do that,” he stated, his voice surprisingly steady.

“What she needs is someone with a firm, stable career. Steady, good income. Someone that has her best interest at heart. Someone that can propel her career, not making it a laughing stock of the state. You realize she graduated top of her class at Harvard Law, correct?”

Sebastian nodded and in a calm voice, responded, “Yes, sir. And I am impressed and amazed by her all the time.”

“You can’t compete with the men she could really be with. Judges, lawyers, doctors. Men who can help pave the way and ensure she rises to the rank she needs.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think she can do that on her own without any sort of high powered husband. But I do have a lot of money, I can make sure we’re very comfortable--”

A sharp laugh left Jack’s lips. “Hah! You think you can provide what she needs? No. I don’t need money. I need people with networks, connections. She needs connections. What can you give us? A ticket to a movie premiere? A ticket to that filth you work in called entertainment?”

Sebastian’s breaking point was approaching. He was so blinded by hurt and rage, they formed into tears, which he hated, it would be a sign of weakness to your father, the last thing he needed.

“She needs someone who can make her happy and support her. I can do that.”

“You can’t do anything. You can walk out that door, and walk out of her life because I promise you no daughter of mine is marrying some Romanian scum actor,” he vowed, the sheer threat and darkness in his tone enough to break Sebastian. Tears welled in his eyes and silently flowed over.

“Dad?” your voice suddenly sounded from the wide doorway of the living room. Sebastian saw you and wiped his cheeks quickly as your father spun to see you.

“Oh, hi there, angel. I was just telling Sebastian--”

“That he isn’t allowed to marry me?” you questioned, a touch of sorrow in your voice.

Your dad tried no further to hide his intentions. His head dropped and put his hands in his pockets.

“Y/N,” Sebastian started but you kindly interrupted him.

“Sebastian, would you mind waiting outside for me?” you asked, your eyes touching his briefly.

He was going to argue, to say that this was his fight, not yours. He didn’t want to drive a wedge between you and your family. But he knew better than to argue with someone like you, so he nodded and ducked out. You waited for the door to close behind him before speaking.

“Honey,” he began, finally looking at you.

“Dad, can we sit?” you asked, not wanting to hear what he had to say. You sat on the large couch side by side, but turned to face each other. You were mad and hurt, but yelling and acting like an imbecile would get you nowhere. Years of being an attorney with heated trials taught you to keep your cool at the most trying of times.

“I just want what’s best for you,” Jack said, trying to get you to understand, to see his side of things.

You nodded and calmly responded, “I know. I know you do. But...I think as an adult, as a woman, I should be able to tell what’s best for myself.”

Jack saw where you were taking this and tried to thwart it. “I think he’s just a phase. I know you might not see that now, but look down the road at five years, or ten. Where will he be? Acting? Partying? Choosing a young actress to have an affair with just to get his name back in the spotlight again?”

A small smile played at your lips. “Dad...I know when you picture me and Seb together, you imagine me hurting from his failures. From his inability to commit or to have a steady job. Which neither of those are true. I know you want our family to be powerful and strong, I do too. But I don’t think who we know is what makes us strong, it’s our ability to help and love one another.”

Both of you were quiet for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, in the meantime, Eric stepped into the room.

“Dad, I--” He stopped short when he saw you though.

“Eric, could you come back later? Y/N and I are discussing something,” Jack requested.

“No, no, I think he should stay and hear this too,” you suggested, eyeing your older brother. He gave you a curious look but sat down. “It appears, Sebastian came by to ask for my hand in marriage, to which Dad declined,” you stated, catching Eric up.

“He did what?” Eric demanded in a deadpan, his blood pressure rising. You held up your hand to keep him from flying off the handle. “Y/N, he’s flighty, and loose, and an actor. They don’t take anything seriously!” he insisted.

You gave him a soft, warning look. “Both of you are wrong about him. I know you wouldn’t know because you don’t spend much time around him, you haven’t given him the chance to prove himself. But I know what he’s done for me in just two years. He greets me with coffee when I’ve had long nights going over witness testimonies. He makes me breakfast on days he knows I shouldn’t be working on an empty stomach. He sends flowers when he knows my day was rough. He has dinner brought to us so I can work all night and he can help in any way he can.” They were silent at this information, letting it sink in. “He may never be quite as serious as us, but he is down to earth. He doesn’t spend money like it’s going out of style. He makes decisions wisely and we do most of them together. He may never practice law, or perform open heart surgery, but he creates things people enjoy seeing, watching, hearing. He makes me happy, he supports my career, he knows how hard I’ve worked to get it and how hard I’m working now to make it better. He’s never stood in the way of my progress or happiness, if he’s done anything to it, he’s moved it along. When I feel defeated or like giving up, he helps. My point is...he makes me happy. Dad, Mom makes you happy.”

Jack nodded, not meeting your eyes.

“And Eric, you love Carol to the moon and back,” you reminded, turning to him. “Now, take away the status, money, power...take all of that away. You’d still love them, right?”

Both of them nodded.

“See? The status doesn’t matter to me, if he doesn’t make me happy. Life is too short to go through it being with someone that doesn’t make me blissfully happy. When I was a little girl, I didn’t dream of marrying someone with power or status. Who they knew or how I could get their connections. I just wanted someone who would make me happy and love me. I know both of you think it’s still a mistake, that for some reason he’ll cheat, or leave, or break my heart, but you know what? If he does? It’s my business, my problem. Doesn’t matter if it’s Sebastian or the Duke of York. If a man breaks my heart, it’s mine to bear. I’m an adult, and if I make a mistake, then I say I’m old enough to do that, don’t you?” you softly questioned.

A meek nod came from both of them.

“I know you’re just looking out for me. I know you love me. I know you want the best for me, but...Sebastian is the best for me. I want to excel at my career because I’m good at it, Dad, not because I married the next Mr. Vice President. I just want a man to love me, be happy with me, and raise a good family with. Is that so much to ask?”

They shook their heads.

“No, I suppose not,” Jack acquiesced, a little begrudgingly.

“So...Do we have your blessing to live happily together?” you asked, prompting for an answer.

“I suppose, as long as he’s the man you want to marry, the man you’ve always wanted, then...you have my blessing,” your father granted, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you quietly said as you leaned forward and hugged him. When you let go, you turned to your older brother. “Eric? Are you okay with this?”

“I just want you to be happy, sis.”

“I am,” you promised with a sincere grin.

“Then I’m happy for you,” he said before you two hugged as well.

“Well, I guess I should tell him he isn’t wanted for dead,” you informed, getting up.

Jack stood and held a hand up. “Allow me. I owe that young man an apology and a proper blessing.”

You smiled at him and followed him to the front door where Sebastian was nervously wringing his hands outside on the wide porch.

“Uh, Sebastian,” Jack said, calling your boyfriend’s attention, the first time he’d ever used his first name. “Could you come in here?”

Sebastian gave you a curious look but headed inside with all of you to the open foyer, where you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers through it for support. Sebastian looked like he wanted to speak, but bit his tongue.

“I need to apologize to you,” Jack said, and you could tell he was struggling to get those words out.

Your boyfriend glanced to you quickly before looking back at your brother and father.

“So, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you today, or any of the times I was rude to you before now. You didn’t deserve the treatment I gave you, not when you treat my daughter as well as you do. For that, I’m truly sorry.”

Sebastian took in a breath of air, shocked. “Uh, I...I accept your apology, sir.” You grinned at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“And, as far as the engagement goes, you have my unrelenting blessing to ask for her hand in marriage,” he promised, bowing slightly.

“Oh, wow, thank you so much, sir,” Sebastian said, extending his hand to shake your father’s hand. Your father took it graciously, smiled at Sebastian, and gave it a firm shake.

“You be good to her,” he lightly warned, with a finger point. “I’m counting on her word that you’re as good as she says you are.”

“I won’t let you down,” he promised.

“Come on, Eric, let’s leave these two alone,” Jack said as he passed you two with a wink and kiss on your cheek. After the two of them left, Sebastian looked at you in utter amazement.

“How...how in the hell did you manage all of that?” he questioned.

You gave an impish grin. “I just put in a good word for you.”

“I don’t know what you said to them, but you are one hell of a lawyer,” Sebastian said with a grin.

“Thank you. Were you going to ask me something?” you urged.

“When the time is right. Now that your family doesn’t want to have a hitman take me out, I may have to change my proposal plans,” he informed.

“Oh yeah?” you asked before you threw your arms on his shoulders and kissed him sweetly, looking forward to this future with him.