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keeryhours · 5 months ago

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wildflower chapter eight

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

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Summary:

Asher turns 2!

Warnings:

Custody arguments, vomiting

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N:

Finally chapter 8! I hope you enjoy :) 💕

“Happy birthday, little man!”

Asher jumped up and down in his crib, a huge grin on his face like he understood the concept of a birthday. He clapped his hands together as you and Steve walked into his room, a cupcake with 2 candles stuck in the top.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Asher, happy birthday to you!”

You and Steve helped him blow out the candles, removing them quickly as Asher stuck his fingers into the icing, eating it off his fingers. You laughed as you watched the toddler devour his cupcake, making a huge mess. You picked him up, situating him on your hip. “Steve, can you change his sheets while I go put him in the bath?”

“Of course,” Steve said, already moving to remove the cupcake-covered crib sheet and his Thomas blanket as you took Asher to the tub. After a quick bath, you blow dried his curls and dressed him in his birthday outfit - a pair of pants with party hat-decorated suspenders and a blue shirt underneath. He looked adorable.

“You got all that?” You asked Steve with a raised eyebrow, seeing him carrying an armful of Asher’s gifts and decorations for the party. “Let me get the cake at least, so you don’t smash it.”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “But, uh, you can get the cake.”

You grabbed the white box, peeking inside at the birthday cake - it was decorated with Thomas characters and said “Happy Birthday Asher!” in swirling blue script.

Asher obediently held your hand as the three of you walked out, Steve stocking the trunk of his car with all the gifts and supplies before lifting Asher in the air, making him giggle.

“Are you ready for your party, birthday boy?”

“Party!” Asher exclaimed, clapping his tiny hands together. Steve smiled, giving him a big kiss on the cheek before situating him in his car seat. You climbed into the passenger seat with the cake on your lap.

The drive to your mom’s house wasn’t a long one, but the motion of the car wasn’t helping the nausea you’d been dealing with. Thankfully, before you knew it Steve was pulling into the familiar driveway. There were already a few guests there, and you knew you’d hear it from your mom for being late.

Steve helped you unload the car, carrying most of the stuff as you walked up to the front door with Asher holding your hand and the cake in the other arm. You let go of Asher long enough to open the front door, watching him sprint into the house. “Gamma! Dusty!”

Your mom scooped him up- “Ah, is that the birthday boy??”- as Dustin pinched at his cheeks, making him laugh. Steve sat the presents down on the gift table.

“How have you been feeling?” Claudia asked as she approached you with Asher in her arms, putting her hand on your head and examining you. You had told her about your nausea and dizziness, and she had been asking you daily if you’d been to a doctor yet.

“I’m fine,” you said, allowing her to test your temperature with the back of her hand. “I’m sure it’s just a little bug and it’ll go away on its own.”

“You should really go get checked out. You don’t want to get Asher sick.”

You sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do that. Can we just enjoy the party right now?”

Your mom looked at you with concern one more time, but she let it go, turning back to Asher. “Are you so excited to be 2??” Asher squealed and clapped his hands. “How are you doing, Steve?”

“Oh, I’m doing great, Mrs. Henderson,” he answered, as polite as ever. He stood next to you, smiling at Asher. “This guy devoured his cupcake this morning.”

“Oh, I bet you did!” She cooed, tickling the little boy under his chin.

You walked away to ruffle your brother’s hair, pulling him into a hug. “How are you, Dusty Bun?”

Dustin groaned. “Okay, first of all, only Suzie is allowed to call me that.”

“And how is my future sister in law?”

“She’s great,” Dustin said, lighting up at the question. “She’s graduating early. She might come visit this summer.”

“That’s awesome,” you told him genuinely. “I can’t wait to meet her finally.”

Dustin looked between you and Steve, who was still locked in conversation with your mother. He leaned in closer to you, whispering, “So, you and Steve…?”

Your eyes went wide. “How did you know that?” You hissed back to him.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “I can read you like a book, sis.”

You blushed furiously, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “Can we not talk about this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever. But he’s totally and completely in love with you, in case you haven’t noticed.”

You didn’t really want to think about that right now. “We don’t really need to talk about my mess of a love life today, thanks.”

The party began, most of the guests arriving. All of your older relatives cooed at Asher as he toddled around the room, seeing everyone. Mike, Will, Lucas, Max, and El gave you big hugs as they arrived. Robin showed up with a huge gift box she could barely carry that Steve ran to help her with. And Nancy and Jonathan came armed with gifts and homemade treats.

You were just wondering if Eddie had decided against coming when there was a knock at the door. Everyone looked as you answered it, and the party went silent as Eddie and Wayne walked in, looking awkward and each holding a gift, Eddie’s being a long box.

“Wayne!” You greeted, and the older man pulled you into a tight hug with a laugh. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“How are you, sweetheart?” He asked, rubbing your back. “I’ve missed ya.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you smiled. Claudia came over to greet Wayne as you turned to Eddie.

“Eddie,” you breathed, and it felt like you were the only two in the room at that moment. “You really came.”

“Yeah, I…of course I did,” he said. “I’m not missing any more of my son’s life. And…I wanted to see you, too.” He nearly stopped himself, but he reached forward and pushed a section of hair behind your ear. “You look great.”

You smiled up at him. “I’m…I’m glad you’re here.”

You were both snapped out of your trance by your mother’s voice. “Do you want to meet the birthday boy?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, realizing you had gotten completely distracted. “Let me go get Ash.”

You wandered into the kitchen, finding Ash being fed a tiny sandwich by Nancy. “So good, huh?” She said, and Asher smiled up at her, his mouth filled with sandwich.

“You having fun in here, bud?” You asked, fingers combing through his curls.

“Oh, yeah,” Nancy smiled. “He’s such a sweet little boy.”

Once he finished his sandwich, you picked him up and situated him on your hip. “Guess what?”

“What?” Asher asked, giggling at you.

“Eddie’s here.”

He clapped - “Ebbie?!”

“Yep,” you laughed, turning and heading back into the living room. “And someone else for you to meet, too.”

As you walked back into the living room with Asher, both Eddie’s and Wayne’s attention were locked on you. Asher reached for Eddie as you approached, and Eddie beamed, taking Asher from your arms and holding him.

“Hey, little dude,” he said. “Happy birthday!”

Asher clapped his tiny hands together again. “Birfday!”

“That’s right,” Eddie laughed. He turned to his uncle. “Ash, I want you to meet your Grandpa Wayne.”

Wayne was tearing up as he looked at Asher - he may have technically only been Eddie’s uncle, but this was his grandson. “Hey, buddy,” he said, holding out a hand. Asher grasped his fingers. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m so happy to see you.”

Asher smiled at him, a little nervously. “Grampa?”

A huge smile spread across Wayne’s normally stoic face. “Yeah, that’s right, bud. I’m Grandpa Wayne.”

“And-“ Eddie started, looking around between you, Steve, your mother, and Dustin before landing back on Asher. “You can call me Daddy if you want to, buddy.”

You breathed in sharply, his words surprising you. But you didn’t say anything- he was his dad after all, and if he wanted to be called Dad, and Asher was okay with it, who were you to stop it?

“Daddy?” Asher asked, reaching up to play with a strand of Eddie’s matching curls. Eddie teared up this time, swiping the tear away before it fell. You weren’t sure if anyone noticed but you.

“Yeah, buddy. I’m your Dad.”

The party carried on after that, Asher walking around to see everyone who came. Your relatives spoke to Eddie, and it was a little awkward, but he handled it well.

“How’s the band?” They would ask.

“It’s going great,” Eddie would answer. “We just finished our first tour. We’re working on recording our second album now.”

“So, you’ll be leaving again?”

Eddie blanched at that question. “Uh, yeah, For a little while. But I’m planning to move back to Hawkins on my off time.”

“You are?” You asked, walking up behind Eddie and joining the conversation. Eddie turned, startled.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, face tinted red. “I got a place here. I’m gonna be moving home. I still have to leave for the tours, but…”

“Eddie, that’s great news!” You exclaimed. “Ash is gonna be so excited. I-“ You were interrupted by the most intense nausea you’d felt so far. “Excuse me,” you said quickly before you ran off to the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you in your rush. You fell to your knees in front of the toilet as you got sick, the knowledge that you had drawn so much attention to yourself only making things worse.

There was a knock at the door. “Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice came from the other side.

“No,” You called back before you were getting sick again, retching as the nausea roiled through your stomach again.

“I’m coming in,” he said, giving you a second to say no before pushing the door open and coming in. He got on his knees next to you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back soothingly. “Have you been getting sick like this a lot?” He asked gently.

You could only nod. You could tell your face was all red and splotchy now, and you hadn’t brought any makeup with you to cover it. Great.

“Sweetheart…” he said quietly. “You don’t think you could be…”

You froze. “No, definitely not. We went to the doctor and got the morning after pill, remember?”

“Yeah, but they told us it wasn’t 100%,” he reminded you gently. “You could still be…”

You didn’t want to think about that. “There’s no way,” you said finally.

“Did you get your, uh…period?”

“I- no, but sometimes it comes late.”

“Maybe we should just go to the doctor to make sure?”

You sighed, flushing the toilet and sitting back against the wall. Steve handed you some toilet paper to wipe your face. “My mom wants me to go.”

“It would probably be for the best,” he said quietly. “Just for peace of mind, at least. It’s probably nothing.”

The rest of the party went smoothly- besides Asher grabbing a handful of cake during Happy Birthday, but that made everyone laugh. Eddie stayed right near Asher for most of the party, helping him open his presents and showing full enthusiasm for everything the 2 year old unwrapped.

Eddie handed Asher his gift last.”This one’s from daddy, bud,” he said, pushing the long box over. Asher quickly ripped the paper off of the box, revealing a small (yet real) guitar.

“I know it’s early,” Eddie said, taking the guitar out of the box and helping Asher hold it, “but I figured he could go ahead and get used to holding and strumming it so he’s ready for me to teach him when he’s a little older.”

You smiled, tears welling in your eyes as you watched Eddie and Asher - his son. They looked just alike, especially with the guitar in his lap, Asher really was a mini Eddie.

“That was sweet of you,” you told Eddie after the party as he helped you clean up wrapping paper. “The guitar. He’s going to love that as he gets older.”

“I hope so,” Eddie smiled. “He’s the coolest kid.”

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed with a laugh. “He’s definitely yours.”

“Did you just compliment me?” Eddie asked, fake gasping as he clutched his chest dramatically.

You pushed his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumbled, and Eddie laughed with you.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he added on quietly. “Just as beautiful as I remembered.”

You blushed, shaking your head as you looked down at the discarded gift bags and paper in your hands. “A lot about my body has changed since having Asher-“

“And it makes you even more beautiful,” he said sincerely. “You carried and birthed my child. That’s the most incredible gift you ever could have given me. And you think I wouldn’t love your body after that?”

“Ed…”

“No, I’m serious. I wish you could love your body like I do.” Eddie scoffed- “Or like Steve does.”

You shoved his shoulder again. “Eddie!”

“What?” He laughed, “It’s true!”

Eddie and Wayne stayed the longest out of all the guests, Wayne watching patiently and with full enthusiasm as Asher showed him every gift he’d gotten over and over. The only people left were you and Steve, and your mom and Dustin.

“Thank you guys so much for coming,” you told Wayne and Eddie, eyes lingering on Eddie’s lanky form splayed out on the floor next to Asher. “Seriously. It means so much.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Wayne said. He looked happier than you’d seen him in years. Being Grandpa Wayne suited him.

“Of course not,” Eddie added as he stood on his long legs. “I’m never missing another birthday again.”

“We’re about to head out,” You told him as Steve got Asher’s coat on him.

“You and Steve?” Eddie asked, doing a poor job at sounding nonchalant and hiding his jealousy.

“Yes, me and Steve,” you smiled softly. You still felt bad that you had hurt him. “But I’ll see you soon?”

“Very soon,” he confirmed. “I’ll call the house. I want to see him again this week.”

“Sure,” you said as you finished packing up the diaper bag. Steve came up behind you with Asher on his hip. “Just let me know. See you, Eddie.”

You and Steve both said goodbye to Wayne as you left, Eddie and Wayne getting in their car as well. Steve hooked Asher into his car seat before sliding into the driver’s seat, you sitting next to him.

The party had been a success, and you were grateful Eddie and Wayne showed up. You had been getting fed up with how flaky Eddie had been since coming home, and you didn’t want to trust him with Asher if you couldn’t trust him to show up for Ash when he said he would. But he had come, and it was a better day because he was there. Asher loved him already, and you didn’t mind that Eddie introduced himself as Dad. Not at all, you realized.

He was slowly earning the title.

Monday morning, you were getting ready to head out the door with Asher when the phone rang. You sighed, sitting Asher down and gauging if you had enough time before work and daycare drop off to deal with whatever it was.

You picked up the phone from the receiver and placed it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Ms. Henderson?”

“Yes?” You cradled the phone between your ear and shoulder as you quietly warned Asher to get down from the table he was climbing on.

“I’m with the family division of the courts. I was just calling to let you know we received the results from the DNA test, and it does confirm that Edward Munson is the father of Asher James Henderson.”

“Okay,” you said, because this was information you already knew. “What happens next?”

“Well, he has petitioned to have his name added to the birth certificate, and to move forward with requesting joint custody.”

“Will…will we have to go to court?”

“Hopefully not,” the woman said kindly on the other end of the line. “You’ll have a mediation, and if you can agree there, you won’t need to go to court.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “Alright. Thank you.”

After the call you rushed Asher and your bags to your car, driving to his daycare to drop him off before heading to work. Your mind spun with thoughts of the whole custody mess, you just hoped you’d be able to agree so you wouldn’t have to fight about it.

You worked on autopilot at the diner for most of the day, mind elsewhere. Your shift was just about over when you saw Eddie walking in, on his own this time.

“Hey,” you greeted, “you can sit anywhere-“

“Actually, I came here to see you,” Eddie said, pushing his curls back out of his face. He crossed his tattooed arms in front of him, looking a little uncomfortable.

“You got the call this morning, too?” You asked, going back to making the drinks for your table.

“Yeah,” he said, breathing out a rush of air. “100% mine.”

“You didn’t know that already?” You teased, moving around him to grab your tray.

“No, I mean, I did,” he stuttered. “It’s just a lot to hear it confirmed like that.”

You shook your head, placing the drinks on the tray. “I could have told you that.”

“No, I know.” Eddie followed you as you carried the tray to your table and handed the drinks out. The group at the table looked up at him like they might know where they’d seen him before, but couldn’t quite place it. It was better than being hounded for autographs right now, he thought. He followed you back to the counter, where you sat the tray back down. “It was just a lot to hear it like that.”

“So what now?” You turned to him, hand on your hip. “Are you taking me to court next?”

“I’m not trying to, I swear,” he said, putting his hands up. “My lawyer said we’d have a mediation-“

“You have a lawyer?” You asked, incredulous. “I can’t afford a lawyer, Eddie.”

“You don’t need one, I swear, it was just…”

“Just what?”

“Because I had no idea what the fuck I was doing!” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Jesus. I’m not trying to take him away or anything like that. And getting this stuff ironed out with the courts will help you, too. I’m willing to pay child support.”

You scoffed, beginning to wrap the clean silverware in napkins. “Yeah, okay, Eddie. What kind of custody arrangement are you going for anyway?”

“I was thinking 50/50-“

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? At least while I’m not touring?”

“Eddie,” you laughed humorlessly as you turned to him. “There is no way you’re just showing up and taking my son for 50% of the time.”

“Why?” He asked again. “My lawyer thinks I can-“

“So you are taking me to court?”

“No,” Eddie said, sighing deeply. “I’m hoping we can come to an agreement without having to do that.”

“Not if you’re after 50/50!” You sat the rolled silverware down and gave Eddie your full attention. “Eddie, you have to understand. It’s just been us for two years. We have a schedule, a routine. Me and Steve are the only parents he knows-“

“Do not bring up Steve,” Eddie hissed quietly. “He’s been in my spot for too long.”

“You weren’t here,” you reminded him for what felt like the millionth time. “He was.”

Eddie shook his head. “I deserve time with my son.”

“Yes, you do,” you agreed, “but you’re not coming in to just take him like that. We need to ease into it, he’s still getting to know you.”

“And he can’t get to know me if he never sees me!”

“Oh my god, Eddie,” You shook your head again. “I’m not trying to keep him from you. I just don’t think any of this was necessary. All you had to do was ask and then show up.”

“I’m doing my best here,” he said, big brown eyes pleading. “I have a lot of commitments with the band, yeah, but when I’m off I want to spend time with him.”

“And that’s fine,” you said, feeling like he wasn’t listening to you. “But not 50/50.”

“We’ll see then.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You asked, finishing the last of the wrapped silverware.

“That we’ll see.”

“Okay, Eddie. Whatever. But I’ve got to get back to work now, okay?” You turned from him. “I guess we’ll deal with this in court.”

Eddie just looked at you for a moment. “Yeah. I guess we will.” You turned and went back to your tables, hearing the bell over the front door ring as Eddie left.

You knew you needed a lawyer now, but how were you supposed to afford that? You weren’t exactly rolling in money from the diner. Things were tight enough just taking care of you and Asher.

You couldn’t believe that Eddie was about to take you to court if you didn’t agree with 50/50 custody. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do that. It had been you and Asher 100% of the time, only without him for work or the times he was with your mom and Dustin. You couldn’t stand to give him up half the time. You were okay with sharing custody with Eddie, but that was too much.

You had to figure out something.

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morbethgames · 1 year ago

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NEW UPDATE IS OUT!

I’M FREE! FREEEEEE! 32 MOSTLY UNIQUE VARIATIONS OF INTIMATE SCENES DONE!

Clears throat

So, like stated above, the update is out! I’ll leave a list of patch notes, but this is majorly a bigger one for Alzarez and Lance romancers. The Lance extra story “Movie and Dessert” is being released with this update. You will need to replay the game. I’m sorry about that. BUT it’s because I added in new variables to the train scene so that stuff said there could possibly be brought up in this new scene! Reactivity, yay!

Along with that, you’ll get to read Alvarez’s flashback scene which is the actual end of Chapter 4. Along with a lot of little goodies. All in all, there was about… 44k-45k words added into this update? 40k of them are entirely optional and only happen if you choose to hang out with Lance after Alvarez’s flashback scene scene.

Not gonna lie, 1 variation in I was confident it would take two weeks. 8 variations in I was a bit tired but still energized to get this scene done. 16 variations in I had to step away for a couple of days to not let my brain melt. By the time I hit mid-twenties in variation for this scene, I was finding myself thinking that it just. wasn’t. worth it.

I have no idea if I’ll make the other intimate scenes this branching. It was honestly a lot of work. Like, a lot, it it was so fatiguing after a while, but I knew I had to get it done. IT’s also the reason I paused my patreon this month, because it wouldn’t be fair to charge people for something that they’re not getting early as promised in the rewards. This took way longer than I thought, so I wanted to just release it to everyone at once.

I do hope you guys enjoy it, and without further ado, here are the patch notes for this update.

Stay Brilliant, -Vi

Patch Notes:

“Movie and Dessert” Lance Extra Scene is finished.

Alvarez Flashback scene is finished.

Added a Text Box Investigation Tab in the Stats Screen.

You are now able to toggle between Text Box Investigations and regular choice script gameplay for TBI sequences.

You can now view the Text Box Investigation tutorial at any time via the stats screen.

Removed the Text Box Investigation Tutorial from chapter 4.

Added an option in the beginning of the game to Fade To Black during intimate scenes.

You can now pick asexual and aromantic as separate options, and they are not tied to each other.

Grammar edits and fixes (thank you to all who report them).

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

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xamag-draws · 1 year ago

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BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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physalian · 1 year ago

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You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #organizing your book #outlining #shut up and write the book #google sheets #google docs

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followingthebutterflies7 · 20 days ago

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Sweeter Than Honey | Part Five: What Remains

Mob Boss!Spencer Agnew x FBI!Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Series Summary: You were sent undercover to infiltrate the world of the most dangerous mob boss on the FBI’s list, Spencer Agnew. But the more you find out about him, the more you lose yourself.

Series Warnings: Mature themes that include emotional manipulation, psychological tension, dubious consent, morally grey relationships, violence, organized crime, and mild language.

A/N: This chapter contains torture, gun violence, blood, and emotional trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

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

Part Five: What Remains

You didn’t think it would end like this. But maybe you should have.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the vase like it might detonate.

A single black dahlia. Clean. Precise. Surgical in its message.

Your breath caught.

Not a rose. Not an orchid. A black dahlia.

A symbol. A warning. A name.

Your name.

Or at least the one the FBI had used to file you away.

Agent Dahlia. Cold. Unshakeable. The best of the best.

And now… exposed.

The once folded note now sat open in your palm, your fingers were trembling. You read the words over and over again, praying they didn’t mean what they so plainly did.

We found another file. Another name. Meet at 10. Don’t be late. –A

Your stomach dropped so fast it stole your breath.

Another file. Another name.

That could only mean you.

They knew.

You’d spent years training for the moment your cover broke. Scripts, escape routes, fallback identities. But none of those drills had prepared you for this. For waking up in his bed with his warmth still on your skin and the weight of that flower beside you like a death sentence.

You gripped the edge of the mattress, trying to steady yourself, but it felt like the entire floor had shifted beneath you. Like your center of gravity had relocated and you couldn’t find where to plant your feet.

You pressed a hand to your chest. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt.

You should’ve told him.

Last night. Last week. Any of the dozens of moments where you’d looked into Spencer Agnew’s eyes and seen someone you weren’t supposed to understand.

You should’ve told him when he kissed you like you were the first soft thing he’d touched in years.

You’d been planning to tell Spencer. To confess. You were going to choose him, fully and completely. You weren’t going to lie anymore.

But now… it didn’t matter.

Because now he knew.

Or Alex did. Which might be worse.

If Spencer knew, if he’d really known, why hadn’t he said anything last night?

Why had he kissed you so gently? Looked at you like you were more than just a warm body in the dark?

Was it part of the act?

Was he saying goodbye?

Your fingers dug into your thigh as your thoughts spiraled.

Had he left to plan your execution?

Had he given the order already?

You tried to breathe. Failed.

You picked up the note again. Read it for the fifth time.

It said ‘found’.

Not were given. Not intercepted. Found. Which meant Alex had been digging. Hunting. Waiting.

What had Spencer seen? Did Alex give him the file already? Did he watch you sleep beside him with your betrayal lying inches away?

You pressed your hands to your face.

This was it.

Everything you’d built was gone. The trust, the proximity, the fragile intimacy, it was all gone. Spencer was meticulous, deliberate. If he knew, and he still let you wake up alone, he was planning something. Watching how you’d respond. Seeing if you’d run.

You forced yourself to stand, bare feet on cold wood. Your legs felt brittle beneath you, but you forced yourself to walk, pacing the length of the room twice. You grabbed your phone and checked the time.

8:42 a.m.

Less than an hour and a half before the meeting.

You didn’t know what you were walking into. A trap? A reckoning? You weren’t sure what would be worse; Spencer confronting you with rage, or not confronting you at all.

Your stomach twisted. You had to move. Think. You stepped toward your jacket, ready to dress, to plan, to get ahead of this.

Maybe Spencer didn’t know everything. Maybe you could still tell him. Maybe you could still have his trust. Maybe-

Your phone rang.

You immediately recognized the number, the ring tone sliced through you. You stared at the screen, dread blooming in your chest.

You answered on the fourth ring.

“…Marlowe.”

Her voice was as crisp and cold as always. “Agent Dahlia. How’s your morning?”

You didn’t get the chance to answer.

“I’m glad you answered,” Marlowe continued. “You’ve done well. Better than we expected. But it’s time.”

“What?” Your throat felt like glass.

“We’re moving in. Today. Five o’clock.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

You gripped the back of the chair by Spencer’s desk, trying to ground yourself. “No. Not yet. You can't. He's in the middle of something. A deal. A huge one. I can get more.”

“We don’t need more,” she said flatly. “Thanks to you, we already have it. Confirmed intel, shipping manifests, infrastructure blueprints, personnel names. We’ve traced over a dozen illegal arms movements directly to Agnew’s network. Enough to put Agnew away for three lifetimes.”

Your heart seized. Marlowe took your silence as awe instead of horror.

“Dahlia, you’ve done well. But it ends today. You can get out tonight.”

Tonight. You weren’t ready. That was too soon. You need more time. More time to tell Spencer the truth.

“Please, I can deliver both of them,” you breathed, desperately trying to buy yourself more time. “Spencer and Alex. I can isolate them, get them alone…”

“You have until four,” Marlowe snapped. “We’ll call at 4:30. You’ll have thirty minutes to get out before we breach. After that, you’re collateral.”

You pressed your forehead into the heat of your palm.

“Marlowe, please-”

“Don’t be emotional. You knew how this would end. You’re not a wife. You’re a weapon.”

Silence that stung.

Then: “Don’t forget who you were before he touched you.”

You breathed in quickly. “Understood.”

“Good girl.”

The line went dead.

You dropped the phone to the floor and stared at it like it might shatter on its own. You doubled over, breathing in short, panicked bursts. Your heart rate was spiking.

The flower, still in the vase, cast a shadow across the bed.

You were out of time.

You had less than eight hours to stop the hammer from falling.

You had less than eight hours to choose between betraying the man you loved and being buried alongside him.

To save a man who might already hate you.

To make a choice you should have made weeks ago.

You straightened.

Breath in. Breath out.

You were going to fix this.

Or die trying.

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

You didn’t bother with breakfast. There was no hunger left, just adrenaline coiled under your skin, buzzing like an alarm that wouldn’t shut off. You just threw on the first clothes you could find, which happened to be Spencer’s black dress pants and white button-up, and ran out of the bedroom.

Your journey down to the basement felt like descending into your own grave. Floor after floor, the air grew heavier, your thoughts louder. The lower levels of Agnew’s operation were always still. Cold. Clean.

The hallway down to the basement office stretched longer than it ever had before, every step echoing in your ears like a countdown. The golden queen pin trembled in your hand as you pressed it against your chest, breath catching as you clipped it on. The bracelet was already wrapped tight around your wrist. The scarf rested at your throat. Every piece of him you’d ever been given was worn like armor.

But it wasn’t armor. It was evidence.

Of your guilt. Of your love. Of everything you hadn’t said until now.

You paused outside the steel door of Spencer’s office, all too aware that the door opposite had been where you had seen Spencer kill that man with no hesitation, and where Wes had been shot. You thought you could still hear the gunshot echoing off the walls.

You took a deep breath trying to rid the gorey images of the fallen men from your mind. Your heart was heart slamming against your ribs. You still had time to run.

But you didn’t.

The door was slightly cracked open. You raised your hand to knock, but stopped as you heard someone speak.

“Show me, Alex.” Spencer’s voice broke the silence of his cold office. You saw Alex walk past the crack of the door, a sleek black folder in his hand. The same kind used by federal agents when they didn’t want anyone to know what they were carrying. It was thick. Familiar.

You couldn’t see Spencer through the small opening. You needed to see him. Your hand hovered at the steel door. You pushed it open.

There he was. Standing at the head of a long metal table, his arms bracing him against the cool surface. He was dressed in black, his sleeves pushed to his forearms, the light overhead catching in the curl of his dark hair. His shoulders were tense, but still. Still in that terrifying way Spencer always was when something had gone very wrong.

Spencer didn’t look up when you entered. He stared down at the black file Alex must have put in front of him after passing the door.

You felt a pressure in the room, and it increased as his eyes moved from page to page. Not a flinch, Spencer wasn’t the flinching kind. But something locked down in his posture, like a door slamming shut behind his ribs.

Alex stood a few feet away to Spencer’s right, half-shrouded in the shadows near the wall. He glared at you, like you were something disgusting stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“You’re early.” Alex glowered. His voice was low. Controlled. Empty of any greeting, warmth, or surprise.

You swallowed.

“I needed to talk to you.” You addressed Spencer, trying to ignore Alex.

Spencer tore his eyes away from the file, glancing at you. Briefly. No smile.

Just a look that cut clean through you.

The silence that followed was razor-sharp.

Then Spencer moved. Slowly. Deliberately. He reached to the table and picked up a glass, not his usual whiskey, but water. He took a slow sip.

There was something flickering behind his eyes. Something restrained.

It chilled you.

“I’m listening,” he said.

You exhaled, took a slow step forward and settled at the foot of the table.

“This isn’t easy.” You started slow, realizing in your haste to get to Spencer you didn’t think about what you were going to say. “Please. It’s about me. About who I am.”

Spencer didn’t move. Just stared.

You swallowed. It was now or never.

“I should have told you sooner,” you said, voice trembling. “I didn’t want it to come out like this, please know that.”

He said nothing. Your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your chest.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you. I didn’t plan for any of this. I was assigned to you.” You continued. A flash crossed his eyes, but he didn’t interrupt. “I’m not who you think I am. My name is not Elise Hawthorne. My name, my real name, is classified. I’m an agent with the FBI. I was part of a deep cover program.”

It all came tumbling out now. You were unraveling, trying to say it all before it was too late.

“I was trained my whole career to get close to men like you. I’m the best in my field, and they needed me to take you down. They wanted as much intel as possible, financial records, international connections, anything that could condemn you and your company. I had protocols to follow. Planted paperwork. And an exit plan.”

Spencer’s jaw tensed.

“But then- I didn’t plan to-” your voice caught. “I met you, truly met you. And things got… complicated.”

Spencer slowly put the glass down on the table, eyes never leaving yours.

“I wasn’t supposed to stay this long,” you confessed. “I wasn’t supposed to care. But I started to, a little too much. And then you started trusting me. And that scared me more than anything the Bureau could do.”

You looked down at the bracelet, the cold catching the low light. The pin was now warm in your palm and cutting into your skin, but your grip around it didn’t loosen.

“I stopped reporting back, stopped regularly checking in with my handler. I lied to them, too. I couldn’t give them everything. Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Finally, finally, Spencer moved.

Just a step.

And in that step, your whole body went tight.

“I know what this sounds like,” you said, voice cracking. “I know I have broken your trust. I know you have every reason to hate me. Every reason to kill me. But I meant everything I said to you. Everything I did. I didn’t fake any of it, especially not recently. I couldn’t.”

Another step.

Spencer reached for something on the table behind him. The black file. He looked down at it as he traveled the length of the table towards you.

He placed it down slowly, deliberately, and slid it toward you.

Your breath caught. You stared down. The seal on the front was federal-issue.

No name on the front. But you didn’t need to open it. You knew what it was.

Your file.

He had it the whole time.

You looked up at him, throat closing. And you saw it in his eyes. Not rage, not suspicion. Betrayal.

He had read it. Every word. Every lie.

And the part that killed you, he looked tired. Not surprised.

“Is it true?” he asked, voice quiet.

You gasped. “You already knew.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly. “No.”

“I-what?”

“I suspected. I had Alex dig.”

Your eyes flicked to Alex, he was still standing in the shadows like a ghost.

“I told him,” Spencer continued, “not to give me anything unless I asked. I didn’t want to believe it.”

You were trembling now. “And then you asked.”

He nodded once.

Alex stepped forward. “I told you she was too good to be real.”

“Not now,” Spencer said sharply, before turning back to you. “You did your job well, Dahlia. You almost made me believe it. This confession of yours. You’re one hell of an actor.”

“Spencer, that wasn’t acting. I’m not acting anymore.” Your chest ached. “This is real.”

Spencer just laughed bitterly. “I wanted it to be real. More than anything. But it’s not”

You took a slow step forward. “Spencer, please. I wasn’t going to hurt you. I came to tell you before-”

“Before what?” Spencer’s eyes burned into yours. “Before I found out for myself? Before you fed me one last lie to see how much I’d swallow?”

You flinched. “No. That’s not what this was.”

He took another step toward you. “Then what was it? An assignment? A game? Was any of it real?”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out.

Then Spencer delivered the killing blow:

“You were trained to lie. I was trained to survive. And that makes us enemies.”

You wanted to scream. To fall to your knees and beg.

But instead you whispered, “You said you trusted me.”

His voice shook slightly. “I did.”

You reached out, wanting to hold his hand. Spencer took a step back, pulling his hand away.

“Spencer, if you ever trusted me, please trust me when I say this,” you begged. “You need to leave. Run far away. The Bureau is coming. They’ll be here at 5 P.M in full force. They are going to take you and Alex in, put you away for life. And I can’t let that happen.”

Silence.

“Please, go. I can’t see you arrested. I can’t see you behind bars knowing I helped put you there.” You breathed. “Spencer, I love you.”

It was the first time you had admitted it, truly. The first time you said it out loud. The words cracked open something deep inside you.

Spencer looked down at the file again, and stepped back from the table.

Then said to Alex, “Put her in the chair.”

Your blood froze.

“What?” you choked. “No-please, Spencer-please don’t do this.”

He didn’t even look at you now. He just turned his back.

“Now.”

Alex didn’t hesitate. He gripped your arms, dragging you back towards the door, you felt the betrayal crack you in half.

You were too late.

Too late with the truth.

Too late with your heart.

And now?

He would never believe either one.

You didn’t fight.

You thought about it. But as Alex dragged you across the room and shoved open the door to the interrogation chamber you knew it would only make things worse.

The chamber door shut behind you and Alex with a sound that felt like a tomb sealing.

No windows. No warmth. Just reinforced concrete, a single chair bolted to the floor, and restraints that had been too thoroughly tested on people far less guilty than you.

Alex pushed you down into the chair with no effort. It was metal, cold as hell, and blood stained the legs and the floor around it.

Alex chained you in, cinching the handcuffs tight. Your wrists screamed from the bite of the shackles, and were raw by the time he finished.

He patted you down, looking for any wires or other devices. He tried to open your fist, but you kept it shut tight, refusing to let go of the pin. He found your phone in the right pocket of Spencer’s dress pants, the fabric clung to your frame.

“More secrets?” Alex taunted as he slipped the phone into his vest.

“I already told him everything,” you murmured.

Alex didn’t meet your eyes. He just stepped back, folded his arms, and stared.

Spencer hadn’t come in yet. You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

The door opened two minutes later. You looked up.

Spencer stepped inside the room, but didn’t come close. He was calm. Composed. Controlled.

But not cold.

Not quite.

Not yet.

He walked toward you slowly, stopping just short of where the low hanging light illuminated your face. His gaze swept over you once.

“Say it again,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“Say it again. From the beginning.”

He didn’t need to clarify. You understood.

So you took a breath, and started.

You told him everything.

How you’d been assigned, trained, conditioned. How your whole life had led to this exact moment, this exact mission.

Who you truly were. How Elise Hawthrone was a fabrication, assigned to you by the FBI. Who sent you, and how your handler, Marlowe, had been in your ear until the first time Spencer had looked at you like you were real.

You spoke about the lies you told him, the information you took from the company, and the first reports you’d relayed back to the Bureau about the man standing in front of you. You told him how your reports stopped being truthful. How you withheld information. How you lied to the people who trained you because you were terrified of hurting the one person who made you feel seen. Real. More than the mask you wore.

You told him how you wanted out. How you wanted him.

When you finished, the silence between you was cavernous.

Spencer didn’t speak. Didn’t blink.

Alex didn’t move.

You stared up at Spencer, your throat burning, your lungs too tight.

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” you whispered. Still nothing. “I just need you to know… it was real. For me. Every part of it.”

Spencer finally stepped forward.

You held your breath.

And then he reached into his coat and pulled out your gun.

Your gun.

He must’ve taken it from your office.

He turned it over once in his hands.

And pointed it at your heart.

Your breath left you all at once. Not because you believed he’d pull the trigger. But because, for the first time, you weren’t sure he wouldn’t.

Alex didn’t stop him.

No one moved.

Spencer stared at you through the crosshairs.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No.” you whispered.

His eyes didn’t soften. But they did break.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, voice raw. “You had a thousand chances.”

“I know.”

“I trusted you. I let you in”

“I didn’t ask you to,” you said, voice shaking. “But I wanted it.”

He didn’t lower the gun.

He stepped closer.

Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

His voice was softer now. More dangerous.

“You manipulated me. I let you into my bed.” Spencer spat. “Let you into my home. My kingdom. You wore what I gave you. Smiled at me like none of it was false. Was all that a lie too?”

“It wasn’t,” you said. “Not all of it.”

“You were the one person I thought I didn’t have to test.”

You shook your head. “I failed. I know that. But I wasn’t pretending, not at the end.”

He stared at you for a long time.

“You say you love me,” he murmured, “but you broke the only rule I have.”

“I didn’t want to.”

He was shaking now.

Just barely.

But he was.

“I don’t do this,” he said, almost to himself. “I don’t let people in. I don’t feel like this. You were supposed to be the one person I didn’t have to protect myself from.”

Tears burned behind your eyes.

“Spencer…”

And then, suddenly-

He dropped the gun.

Just let it fall.

It clattered against the floor.

He walked away, back through the heavy door to the room, shoulders heaving.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. You didn’t know if you were about to die or be spared. All you could do was sit there and listen to the man you love walk away from you.

The moment Spencer’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, Alex moved. He crossed the room without hesitation, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a slim, silver tool roll.

You knew what was inside. You’d used versions of it yourself on many missions.

Alex didn’t speak. He just unrolled it on the table in front of you. A delicate array of surgical steel, pressure implements, heat clamps.

Your breath caught.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said quietly.

Alex looked at you. “I don’t have a choice.”

You swallowed.

“Spencer left because he couldn’t stomach what he might do to you,” he said. “But I don’t have that problem.”

You didn’t beg. You just braced yourself.

Alex stepped closer.

“Tell me everything you gave the Bureau,” he said.

“I already told you-”

Your sentence was cut off by a gasp as he twisted a pressure clamp over your forearm. Sharp, precise, not enough to break skin but just enough to hurt.

You bit down hard.

“I gave them less than they wanted,” you hissed.

“Lies,” Alex said calmly.

“Then why haven’t they taken him down yet?”

Alex didn’t answer. Just applied another slow, precise twist. You shook, shoulders tense, but still didn’t cry out.

“They were never going to arrest him quietly,” you choked. “They wanted to catch him with blood on his hands. A big play. Public. Dramatic.”

Alex leaned in closer, breath warm against your ear.

“You lied to all of us.”

“I lied to them too.”

You looked up, eyes wet, teeth clenched.

“I lied to everyone. Because I didn’t want to destroy him. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped being Agent Dahlia and started becoming someone who wanted him to win.”

Alex stared at you for a long, silent beat.

Then, softly: “And why is that?”

You closed your eyes.

And let the truth spill out.

“Because Spencer Agnew sees me.”

Your voice cracked on the first word, but you didn’t stop.

“He looks at me and doesn’t see a weapon. Or a tool. Or some perfect agent built for leverage. He sees me.” Your chest rose, trembling. “And he doesn’t flinch when I’m angry. Doesn’t shut me down when I’m too sharp, too loud, too much. He doesn’t second-guess me. He trusts me. Like I’m capable, like I’m dangerous, like I’m worth the risk.”

You swallowed hard.

“He lets me be strong, and soft. Lets me make mistakes. Lets me fall apart and doesn’t try to fix it. He doesn’t want a version of me. He just… wants me. The way I am. I’ve never had that. Not once. Not from anyone.”

Your throat burned.

“You don’t understand what that does to a person,” you said, voice shaking. “To be seen like that. Known like that. When you’ve spent your entire life being used and reassembled and hollowed out for someone else’s mission.”

Alex didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

“And I didn’t plan this. I swear I didn’t. I went in cold. Clean. Ready to burn the whole place to the ground. But then he looked at me, really looked at me, and for the first time, I felt real. Not an asset. Not a mask. Me.”

You breathed through the pain in your arm, the burning in your lungs.

“I love him,” you whispered. “I love him so damn much it terrifies me. And I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to him. I just... I didn’t know how to tell the truth without losing him.”

Your voice broke.

Tears now fell freely down your face.

“I would’ve told him. I was going to tell him. But I ran out of time. And now it’s too late, and I don’t even blame him for hating me. I just... I need you to know. Someone needs to know,”

And then softly:

“That it stopped being a mission a long time ago.”

Alex stared for a long moment.

Then stepped back.

You watched him warily as he reached into his jacket and tapped once on a small receiver clipped to the inside of his lapel.

“Did you get all that?” he said, low.

The receiver clicked softly. Then:

“Yes.”

Spencer’s voice. Quiet. Raw. Cracked open.

You froze.

He’d been listening the whole time. Watching. All of it.

Alex looked down at you.

Then spoke quietly, almost without malice. “You broke him. Just like I knew you would. ”

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

The moment the audio cut out, Spencer stood completely still in his office. The monitor in front of him was dark now. Alex had turned off the feed. But it didn’t matter. Spencer had heard enough.

He stood there in the low light of his private office, hands braced on the desk, head bowed like a man in prayer.

You’d told the truth.

All of it.

Not because you knew he was watching. Not to manipulate. Not to escape.

But because you loved him.

And now you were trapped in that chamber, bleeding from your arm, your wrists still raw from the restraints, your voice hoarse from hours of confessions that came too late.

Spencer swallowed hard.

You had chosen him.

Not the mission.

Not the badge.

Him.

And he had walked away.

He had put the gun down, but left you in the hands of someone who wouldn’t.

And that guilt had already begun to hollow him out.

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

You blinked against the flickering light in the chamber, the pain in your arm a dull throb now, the edge of everything slowly going soft around the edges.

You thought that would be the end. Spencer was done with you, even though he knew the truth. If you were honest with yourself, you truly didn’t expect your confession to change anything. But the hope that burned in your chest didn’t allow any room for doubt.

“Alex, please, stop. You need to run,” you begged. “Take Spencer and run. They are coming to arrest you both.”

Alex didn’t acknowledge that he could hear you. He was replacing the pressure clamp back in the tool roll, before slowly stooping to pick your gun up off the floor.

He brushed it off, taking the time to polish the metal and to flick off imaginary dust particles. He checked the chamber, counted the bullets.

Fully loaded.

He turned towards you.

Safety off.

“I can’t lie, you made it further than anyone before, Agent Dahlia.” Alex’s compliment stung.

He stepped closer, raising his arm.

You waited for the familiar click of the trigger being pulled.

For the bullet to come racing towards you.

For the darkness to come.

It didn’t.

Instead, your phone rang.

It came from Alex’s jacket pocket. He pulled it out, and examined the caller ID. No name.

Alex clicked the answer button and held the mobile up to his ear.

“…Yes?”

You couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but you didn’t need to. Marlowe.

Alex didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Too late.”

Pause.

“Your agent is going to be dead.”

And he hung up.

He looked at you. And something in his eyes shifted. Not hatred. Not suspicion. Resolve. Alex put down the gun next to the tools, and opened a hidden drawer in the side of the table.

“Things have changed.” Alex says and you’re not really sure if he is speaking to you. You looked up at him, confused, trying to understand what was happening.

He reached his hand into the drawer and pulled out a small vial and a syringe.

Your heart kicked hard.

“What- what is that?”

“I have to make it look real.”

You shook your head. “Wait- what are you talking about?”

“They’re coming,” Alex said. “You were right. The Bureau’s on their way.”

“Alex-”

He filled the syringe calmly. Methodically. No hesitation. No hurry despite the recent revelation.

He stepped forward.

You pulled against the restraints, panic rising fast. He was going to kill you now, really kill you, but slowly. The fire of hope inside you died.

“I told the truth,” you said, desperate. “I told him everything. You don’t have to do this. Spencer will listen-”

“He already did.”

“Spencer! Spencer!” you screamed for him, praying he would come to save you. Praying that after he knew you were telling the truth he would give you a second chance.

“He can’t hear you. The room is soundproof, and I cut the signal to his office.” Alex stalked closer to you.

He plunged the needle into your neck.

It hit fast. Cold. Your body seized, warmth flooded your limbs, and then you collapsed. Alex caught you before your body slumped too hard.

“I- why-” Your voice wasn’t working, but you were desperate to know why.

Alex didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly:

“Spencer hesitated.”

Your eyelids fluttered.

The world began to tilt. Darkness started to pull at your vision.

The last thing you heard was the pin falling and hitting the floor as it slipped from your limp hand.

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

Spencer heard the shots.

One.

Two.

Three.

And the world stopped.

He bolted up from the chair, his heart already screaming what his mind refused to believe.

His shoes slammed against the concrete as he ran, every footstep echoing louder than the last.

The basement chamber door stood wide open. Smoke curled out in thin ribbons. And Alex stood just inside. Silent, still, expression unreadable.

Spencer’s eyes dropped to the chair.

You slumped forward, motionless.

Blood pooled at your side and painted the floor in slow, dark strokes.

Your head tilted slightly to the side. Eyes closed.

Still.

Lifeless.

“No,” Spencer breathed.

Alex didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared.

Spencer’s chest heaved. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I had no choice,” Alex said evenly. “She wouldn’t talk. We were out of time.”

Spencer shook his head slowly, like if he just denied it hard enough, you’d move. Wake up. Laugh and roll your eyes like it was all a sick test.

But the room stayed silent.

And you stayed still.

And that was it.

The end.

“She’s gone.” Alex said, softer this time.

The words didn’t hit like bullets.

They hit like an implosion.

Like something inside Spencer was caving in.

The breath left his lungs. He couldn’t speak.

He just walked forward, each step slower than the last, like approaching a cliff’s edge.

You didn’t stir. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t breathe.

And he just looked at you, really looked. Like how he did before.

He knelt beside the chair and reached out a trembling hand.

Fingertips grazed your cheek. Warm.

Too warm.

You weren’t supposed to still be warm.

“Fuck.” Spencer whispered, “No.”

Alex stepped back, giving him space.

Spener’s breath came ragged now, uneven, like the room was tilting sideways and he couldn’t find his footing.

He looked at you. Really looked.

Not at your blood, or the bruises. Not at your restraints. At you.

And that something inside him broke.

Not like glass.

Like bone.

Fracturing inward, slow and loud and final.

“I should’ve stopped this,” he choked out. “I should’ve listened to you.”

He clenched his jaw until it ached, blinking hard, shaking his head like it might rattle the moment loose.

“She told the truth, didn’t she?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Alex didn’t answer.

Spencer didn’t need him to. That was answer enough.

He swallowed, his hand still on your cheek. His thumb brushed under your eye.

“I should’ve believed you,” he whispered. “I knew. I knew, and I didn’t stop it.”

The silence that followed was worse than screaming.

He pressed his forehead to the side of the chair. Not crying. Just breathing. Quiet and hoarse.

Then, with effort, he looked again.

He looked at you. Looked at a woman who had taken a bullet for him, taken a mission and turned it into meaning, loved him without asking for anything in return.

And he’d sentenced you.

Because of doubt. Because of fear.

Because of him.

He turned to Alex. His voice was low, fractured.

He had to move. You had been telling the truth, meaning the FBI would be there soon. And he wouldn’t let your warning go to waste.

“Alex,” he had to clear his throat. “Initiate Protocol Hollow Crown. We have a Code Zero. Get us out.”

Alex nodded once and disappeared.

Spencer went to follow, placing his hand down on the floor to push himself up, when something sharp stung his palm.

He looked down.

The Queen pin glinted in the light.

His breath caught.

He hadn’t seen it earlier. He didn’t know you had clenched it faithfully in your hand. Didn’t know it had fallen from your palm as you slipped into the darkness.

It was covered in your blood.

Spencer plucked it from the floor. Tucked it inside his coat without a word.

A thin line of blood trailed down his skin from the scratch on his palm, dropping to the floor.

It landed beside yours.

It barely splashed, mixing with the crimson river that rushed from your shoulder.

His blood. Your blood.

Stained into the concrete together.

And then Spencer left the room. Without looking back.

Because if he did he might never leave at all.

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

The FBI arrived fifteen minutes later. The whole building was swarming with soldiers, agents, profilers. Black SUVs sat outside. Radios screaming. Boots stomped down each stair. Shouts in every hallway.

The FBI came in like they always did; heavy, loud, and ten minutes too late.

Spencer and Alex were gone.

Gone like smoke. Gone like a myth. Gone like a lie you almost believed.

No one could find them. No one ever would.

But they did find you.

Unconscious.

Sedated and bleeding.

Collapsed in the chair like a discarded corpse. Locked in a room that had two bullet holes in the wall, and one in your shoulder. Your body limp, and your shoulder torn open.

The room stank of gunpowder and betrayal.

You were alive.

But just barely.

The lights were too bright. That was your first thought.

Not the ache in your chest. Not the weight in your limbs. Not the buzzing static where memory should have been.

Just the light.

It burned against your eyelids, hot and sterile, like a surgical lamp.

You blinked. You couldn’t even shift around in the chair.

The restraints were sticky with sweat. Spencer’s shirt was half off your shoulders, soaked with sedative-laced blood. You couldn’t move your fingers. Couldn’t lift your head.

And then you heard them. Boots. Orders. Voices shouting in clipped burts.

“Clear!”

“Room secured!”

“Move, move, move!”

The door slammed open. A flood of black tactical gear filled the room. The words on their vests: FBI. One of them knelt in front of you, a flashlight angled toward your face. You flinched weakly.

“Agent down!” someone barked. “We’ve got her!”

Hands moved fast. Releasing restraints. Lifting you upright. A mask was pressed to your face. Fresh oxygen flooded your lungs.

“Stay with me,” a voice said. “You’re safe now.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because you weren’t safe.

Not really.

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

You woke up in a hospital.

White walls. Blinding lights. The constant beeping of a heart monitor you didn’t ask for ringing in your ears.

It wasn’t a civilian hospital. It was a Bureau safe facility somewhere off-grid. You could tell by the windowless room, the reinforced glass on the observation panel, the IV stitched into your arm like a tether.

Your wrists were bandaged and your shoulder stitched up. Your voice was wrecked, only a whisper remained. Your mouth tasted like metal and regret. Your body ached. Your mind felt worse.

And your heart-

You didn’t check on that.

You didn’t remember being airlifted. Didn’t remember passing out again.

All you remembered was the look on Spencer’s face when you finally were able to tell him you loved him. And how much you wished he could say it back.

Marlowe showed up three days later.

No flowers. No sympathy. Just a manila folder under one arm and a frown carved deep into her forehead.

“Well, aren’t you a mess,” she said flatly.

You didn’t answer, just glared at her. She stood over your bed like a priest at a funeral.

“You’re lucky we got there when we did,” she said. “The building went up in flames fifteen minutes after we pulled you out. You’d have died if we’d waited.”

You didn’t answer. You knew the fire was no accident. Spencer had covered his tracks. Burned the place down to make sure there was no evidence.

Or maybe… to make sure there was no you.

“He left you to die,” Marlowe said, like she was talking about the weather. The words pierced your heart like a knife.

You closed your eyes. “I don’t believe you.” Your voice scratched your throat.

She didn’t stop.

“I gave you a chance to prove your loyalty. You gave me broken promises and a trail of lies. And now the man you risked everything for is gone.”

You didn’t speak again. You couldn’t. Because if you opened your mouth, you might scream.

She pulled a chair beside your hospital bed and dropped the folder onto your lap. The file was thin.

Your name was stamped across the front in red: DISCHARGED.

She crossed her legs. You looked at her. She didn’t flinch.

“You're done.”

Still, you said nothing.

“You failed the Bureau. You failed to follow orders,” Marlowe continued. “And more importantly, you failed me. Do you have any idea what it cost us to extract you after you tipped him off?”

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie. Not to me.” Her tone snapped like a whip. “You gave him the time. You gave him the truth. And he still left you to rot.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed.

Because… that’s not what happened?

Was it?

She leaned closer.

“We found surveillance footage. After the fire started, the building exploded 20 minutes later. Set charges. Timed detonation. We lost a lot of good people”

She handed you a still frame printed on paper. The building was in flames. The wreckage reduced to dust. Marlowe tilted her head.

“Spencer Agnew left you there. He cut his losses and ran.”

You gripped the photo in your hand until it crumpled. She waited for your reaction. You gave her none. She stood up.

“Your career’s over. Your record is burned. You want to go back in the field? No one will touch you.”

Still, you said nothing. Marlowe paused at the door.

“I hope he was worth it,” she said quietly.

You didn’t stop her when she walked out.

You didn’t cry until the door shut behind her.

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

Once you were finally discharged from the hospital, you were handed a box full of your belongings that had once lived in your office, and were loaded up into a large black SUV.

You were moved to a government-owned apartment on the edge of somewhere you didn’t care to name. Somewhere far from the office. Far from the mission. Far from the memories.

They called it protective relocation. You called it exile.

No badge. No job. No friends.

Just the memory of a man who never said goodbye.

You still wore the bracelet. It never came off. Not once.

You told yourself it was because it had survived the blast. Because you had no other anchor.

But some nights, when the wind pushed against the windows just right, you’d close your eyes and swear you could feel his hand on your wrist again.

Tethering you.

Not to a mission.

To him.

The dreams returned.

They weren’t blood-soaked or violent.

Just him.

A dark coat. Wind in his curls. His voice. His breath. A hand reaching for yours, slow and warm.

The way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

You would wake with tears in your eyes.

And then you started seeing him when you were awake. You couldn’t escape.

He was in the warmth of the morning sun. He was in the slow press of the shower against your back. He was in the quiet echo of every empty room you entered.

You would see him in the corner of your eye, but he would be gone as soon as you looked.

And then came the silences.

Hours where you stared out the window, wondering if you’d invented all of it.

And you would wait.

Wait for it to be fake. Wait for it to be real. Wait for him to return.

Because surely he would.

He hesitated. He hesitated for you.

But he never came for you.

Never called. No message. No clue. Not even a shadow in the dark.

Eventually, you stopped expecting one.

But you never stopped listening.

And on the loneliest nights, you wondered what would’ve happened… if you’d told the truth just five minutes sooner.

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

Tag List: @tenderhornynihilist @sbrewer21 @happyclifford @65percentleg @mazzyowl @spennininomenon @superstinkychimp @and-claudia

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh fic #smosh fanfiction #smosh #smosh x reader #alex tran #mob boss #mob boss au

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foreverisntenough · 8 months ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Just added! 'Movie Night' Fashion Index for all Y/N's looks! No more bad links!

Index:

Chapter 1 - Trent. | cover image

Chapter 2 - Bruises | cover image

Chapter 3 - Crossed A Few Lines | cover image

Chapter 4 - Saturday Night | cover image

Chapter 5 - Together or Apart | cover image

Chapter 6 - Your Brother | cover image

Chapter 7 - Girl of The Season | cover image

Chapter 8 - Caught in The Kitchen, Hidden in The Bathroom | cover image

Chapter 9 - Waiting | cover image

Chapter 10 - So Different | cover image

Chapter 11 - She's Something | cover image

Chapter 12 - Monaco | cover image

Chapter 13 - Locked In | cover image

Chapter 14 - Noah? | cover image

Chapter 15 - Not Like That | cover image

Chapter 16 - For Years | cover image

Chapter 17 - Rarely Wrong |

Chapter 18 - Safe |

Chapter 19 - Dad |

Chapter 20 - Up in Flames |

Chapter 21 - Suffocated |

Chapter 22 - I'm Sorry |

Chapter 23 - Flowers and Fixing |

Chapter 24 - Parties |

Chapter 25 - For You |

Chapter 26 - After Lunch |

Chapter 27 -Touch Her | cover image

Chapter 28 - Safe Now |

Chapter 29 - Silver Linings |

Chapter 30 - Pretty Girl's All Good |

Chapter 31 - Movie Night | Complete ✨

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!]

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Note: Be sure to check out 'Movie Night's' Fashion Index for all Y/N's looks! No more bad links! and all of the Mood Boards and Playlists for the series!

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

And that is it! The series has officially come to a close. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged or commented. It's really been quiet the ride and I hope you enjoyed.

Please like, comment, or message what you think of the final chapter or the entire series!

xx FIE

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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hevexns-realm · 1 month ago

Text

Yearning

Black sapphire cookie x fem! (Angel!) reader

(Fair warning: These dividers are not made by me! They belong to @anitalenia and @bunnysrph respectively! Go check em’ out! >v< this is also going to be a pretty long one-shot, so bare with me here!)

(This takes place after chapter 8.) After the events of chapter 8, black sapphire cookie can’t seem to get his mind off you, even while at work. So he decides to pay you a small visit.

Edit: I can’t believe that it took almost 4-6 months to write this. (I started not long after that his banner came out.) so I really hope the fem black sapphire fans enjoy this!!

Backstage of his studio, black sapphire cookie is preparing for his next show. Checking the script, prepping his skin with a face mask, and sipping on some berry juice. He goes over a few words in his head as he looks at the clock. 9:30pm the clock says. Black sapphire cookie sighs and leans back in his chair, a hand tuffles in his hair as he tries to get his preparations ready.

Even with his show’s ratings being higher than ever thanks to some recent scandals, shadow milk’s defeat at the hand of pure vanilla and his friends has gotten him distracted. It wasn’t the fights themselves, it wasn’t even how pure vanilla cookie was able to trick his master. Nope, it was you.

The little angel who dared to fall into the yogurt river herself, even without knowing how to swim. The way you constantly apologized for tripping into the river and nearly ruining it for him and the others. The way you were so kind and supportive to all three of them, and how carefully you tended to candy apple’s ruined syrups, full of love and care. Your voice and actions seem to echo in his brain, he could still feel the warmth of your hands on his cold and dead hands, and he could still remember the look of guilt and remorse on your soft and delicate face as he left to where he is now. Oh how that look made his heart sink.

He shakes his head as he puts down the script for tomorrow’s show and begins to take his face mask off and put on some moisturiser. Yet it doesn’t seem to take his mind off you. He remembers how you asked how his dough always looked so shiny, smooth, and soft. He told you his routine to pass the time for the next game to start, and the way your wings flapped up and down as he spoke. It’s probably one of the cutest things he’s seen all century.

He looks to the mirror, his face flushed. He sighs softly as he begins to realise just how flustered he is over you. It’s embarrassing honestly, he’s the one of the most popular show hosts, and can get just about anyone he wants, but yet he falls for you of all cookies. Anyone he can ever want, and he falls for an angel. One so susceptible to corruption, yet the one who showed him what genuine kindness and love felt like.

He groans softly as his head sinks in his hands, his hair fluffing everywhere. At this moment he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms again, to keep you safe from the corruptive place that is this world. Yet he can’t. He can’t risk shadow milk finding out that he still harbors feelings for you. He’ll tease him for centuries. And don’t get me started on candy apple, she’ll go batshit crazy fangirl mode if she finds out.

He looks up to the window beside his vanity, the moonlight shining through the window panes so elegantly, so lovingly. His mind begins to wander. He wonders if he went to see you right now, are you safe? would you even be awake tonight? If so, what would you be doing? what would you be wearing? Do you have windows in your home? How would the moonlight reflect off your precious face? The questions fill his head before he sighs and grabs his suit and his mic. He needed to clear his head..

Meanwhile, you’re carefully brushing your hair in front of your vanity, your silky nightgown reaching to your ankles, and the moonlight shining through your balcony doors. Soft curtains flowing in the breeze as you hum a song under your breath. You set your brush down and carefully grab your nail polishes to redo your nails. They got rather chipped during your time in beast yeast, and it’s time to choose a new color.

You carefully set out each color. You have your usual baby pink, black and red, baby blue, and a soft amethyst-white shimmer polish. You carefully hold it up to the moonlight, its amethyst shine sparkling in the moon. You sigh softly as you recall your time in the tower, how you finally felt connection with those around you, when everything didn’t seem to make sense, made perfect sense in what appeared to be a broken mind in your vision. Behind lies, you saw fear, when you hear gossip, you saw loneliness and jealousy, and illusions are just hiding insecurities from the world that would never accept them, no matter how hard they tried. All that you see, and those you connect to, gone through the darkness.

You think back to your conversations with black sapphire cookie. His voice was always so suave and sweet, but yet you couldn’t help but hear something else in it. Was it anxiety? Exhaustion? Or something else entirely? Regardless, his words and actions were always maticulated to perfection. How he saved you from the yogurt river when you tripped, how he got you dressed up in a gorgeous purple dress, and how well he treated you in comparison to all those who courted you before..

And how heartbroken he appeared when he saw you trying to reach for him in your injured state before he disappeared.

You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. Black sapphire is gone now, and you remain in your room, tears trying to poke from your eyes.

“No no! Don’t think about him (name) cookie. He probably all did it for show, he probably doesn’t even remember you anyways..”

You sigh as you pick up the soft nail polish bottle and begin to grab the rest of your nail materials and begin to redo your nails. Even if he doesn’t remember you, at least you know that you look good in purple!

Black sapphire is walking around the shopping district to try and clear his head, his eyes always glancing up to the gorgeous moon above him. He stops in his tracks and sighs softly as his mic begins to look at him with a worried expression. Never before has it seen its master so well… lonely. Yearning even. It looks around for a moment before noticing a flower shop, and it taps its master’s shoulder.

“Hm? What is it my dear microphone, did you hear of something interesting?”

It looks and points over to the flower shop. In the window there are these gorgeous white roses in the front window, perfectly primmed and prestiged in all their beauty. White roses have a meaning of pure and innocent love, love that you gave to him and candy apple cookie at the spire, despite being on opposite sides.

Black sapphire walks up to the window and stares at the white roses for a few moments, remembering how much you loved the white roses in the spire’s garden. They were his pride and joy, and you adored them just as much as he did. He thinks back to the rose he gave you from his garden the night before the battle between the heroes and his master. Do you still have it? What condition is it in? Does it give you good memories of your time together, or does it give you PTSD every time you look at it?

He sighs and looks to his mic and smirks softly.

“Let me guess, you want me to buy the flowers and go find her?”

It nods quickly as he chuckles and puts his mic on his back as he walks into the flower shop.

Meanwhile, you finish the final coat of the pretty amethyst-white shimmer polish and put it under the UV lighting for the final time. Once the machine beeps, you carefully take your hands out of the small machine and gaze at your nails with a soft smile. Never in a million years would you think purple would look good on you like this, but you’re thankful to be proven wrong. The amethyst shimmer in the soft white base seemed to give this almost gemstone glow to them, especially in the angle of the moonlight currently. You let out a soft sigh with a gentle smile on your face as your wings flutter softly behind you, your halo bouncing over your head. You carefully stand from your vanity and admire yourself in the delicate mirror, your nightgown shining softly in the pale moonlight, your hair falling carefully over your delicate face, your halo giving the right amount of light to show your eyes and face. After a few moments, you decide to enjoy a few minutes outside on your balcony before you head to bed and rest your head.

You carefully walk over to your mini fridge to grab a club soda and your favorite flavored syrup as you make a simple drink to enjoy while you enjoy the moonlight on your balcony loveseat. Once done, you set down your drink on the table next to the loveseat as you lean on the armrest of the loveseat as you look out to the kingdom below you. You were given a nice three story manor to enjoy as a reward for helping save crispia from dark enchantress cookie, but yet it didn’t feel like a home. Not to you at least. No matter how homey you made it feel for you, it just felt so empty without anyone here except you. You wish you could home cookies and sugar gnomes in your home, but most either politely decline or have homes of their own. You sigh as you look to the moon. You weren’t alone, you just feel a constant loneliness in your heart. You wish for true connections, for gentle hugs and dancing in the main hall with your loved ones, you wish for companionship, for friendship, for family, for love.

Yet the one time you felt so close to reaching it, it was ripped away from you. Leaving your heart empty once again. You remember the feeling of sewing the frilly edge of candy apple’s dress as she asked how you learned sewing, how it felt as if you were your mother mending your own ripped clothes, asking her how she was able to do it. If only you were given more time with them, maybe you could’ve taught her how to sew too? Maybe you could’ve given some sort of womanly knowledge and lessons to candy apple cookie when black sapphire didn’t have an answer? Maybe you could’ve had more of a connection with those two, if only you were given more time.

Tears creep into the corners of your eyes once more. Is this some sort of maternal instinct? The grief of having some sort of daughter figure in your life to teach and care for, only to have it taken away? Your mind trails back to black sapphire before he entered the portal again, that look of guilt and heartbreak in his eyes as he stares at you before jumping into the portal. When he found you injured after the fight with his master, how you tried to reach out to him and call out to him. You hide your face in your arms as your thoughts begin to spiral slightly. That is until you heard a swooping noise come from above you.

Your head shoots up to the moon above you, a shadow barely visible in the corner of your eyes. You swallow the breath you were holding in your throat and carefully take a deep breath. Maybe it’s vampire cookie sneaking off to his juice storage for more to drink. Or maybe it’s latte cookie flying back to parfaitdea for her lessons tomorrow. That is until you hear footsteps of heeled boots on the floor of your balcony. A soft voice calls to you, in the same suavely sweet tone you remember oh too well…

“(Name) cookie…?”

You gasp softly as you turn around to see black sapphire cookie behind you, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you for the first time in months. You both stare at each other for a moment before you sit up on the loveseat and he smiles softly, his face covered with a soft blush.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your enemy. Not tonight at least.”

His voice is not its usual charismatic self. It’s more relaxed, gentle, even affectionate as stares at you for a moment, taking in your beauty once more before he looks to you.

“If anything, I came here to get something off my chest. May I sit with you, dear?”

You nod shyly to his request. You can feel your face heat up as he lies the bouquet of white roses next to him as he sits next to you on the loveseat, it’s soft and silky texture only adding to the moment as music begins to play from below.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find his words for a moment before beginning his sentence.

“You’ve been on my mind recently, more than a lot of things. Your voice rings in the back of my mind, your warmth remains on my hands, and when I saw you taking care of candy apple. Something seemed to spark in me, and it hasn’t left since we last met. You haunt my narrative daily, even in my dreams you appear.. do you have any idea how dearly I missed you…?”

You blush softly as he confesses how much he missed you. After he asks his question, you stay quiet for a moment before finally coming with an answer.

“I never thought you’d miss me. I thought you’d move on from that night, to have forgotten me..”

You blush softly as you look at him with a shyness in your tone as you explained your thoughts during that time. Your heart is ringing in your ears as you recall the times he stood in between you and his master, as if he were protecting you from him, knowing that you’d suffer if you were involved. The way he spoke to you the night before the final fight was so gentle and sweet. When he showed his garden of white roses and gifted one to you, the same white rose you keep on your vanity to remember the times you two had together. It felt as if something changed in your little friendship that night.

“Forget you? The little darling who tripped into the yogurt river? The sweet angel who haunts my narrative all the days? How could I ever forget you…?”

He chuckles as he floats up and looks down at you, his mic keeping him afloat as he stares you down with an endearing look in his eyes. Watching you play with your hands as your wings flutter softly, your halo creating a soft glow over your precious face. You’re just as shy and sweet as he remembers you, even after everything.

“You were always willing to help with little tasks around the spire, even as a guest. Your gentle presence was always so endearing to me, and it still is. Especially when you sewed up candy apple’s dress, she’s still wondering if you’ll be able to teach her one day…”

“Well, I wanted to show you how much I appreciated your kindness, and that’s really the only way I knew how. But I’m glad I made a positive impact onto you and candy apple cookie! She’s always welcome here any time to learn how to sew! I have a lot of spare time on my hands after beast yeast, so if you two wish to make an appointment for sometime this week I’m up for it!”

You smile sweetly before you see black sapphire float down from his microphone and walk towards you with a soft smile as he carefully grabs one of your hands and brings your knuckles to his lips.

“Gentle and sweet as I remember. You really know how to make my demonic heart melt, don’t you my dear?”

“Oh! Uhm..!”

You let out a small gasp before he kisses your knuckles gently. you look away blushing heavily, a small chuckle escape his lips as he watches you look away blushing so heavily. It’s just so cute watching you get so flustered over the simplest affections. He can only imagine how you’d be at your wedding, and that’s what gets his heart racing faster.

“I must say, it’s an absolute shame that nobody can see you for the beautiful angel that you are. Then again, if everyone saw your ethereal beauty, then I wouldn’t be able to see you. That would be the biggest shame of all.”

He states in a more dramatic sense as he uses his mic to catch himself and feign a fainting moment. He chuckles and you giggle sweetly before you look towards him shyly, your hand over your mouth as you look to him. You walk closer and hug him, being hit with the feeling of his cool skin against your warm embrace. This leads a gasp from black sapphire as he stares down at you in shock and a heavy blush burning on his face.

“That would be sad… because then I wouldn’t be able to see you or candy apple ever again.. I don’t want to lose you two.”

He smiles softly and hugs you back tightly with his free arm, that same protective hold from back in the spire. He chuckles softly as he sets his mic down and carefully guides your head up to look at him.

“Awh dear, you missed me so much, you just wanted to run into my arms the moment you saw me, didn’t you..?”

He leans in slightly with a teasing glint in his eyes as a smirk forms on his lips. You look away shyly with an embarrassed flush on your face as he teases you. You hug him tighter, your wings fluttering as you lie your head on your chest.

“Of course I did.. I missed you and candy apple cookie dearly, and I can’t help but think that our time together was cut short because of the final fight between your master and my friends… being with you it… it felt so wonderful, it felt as if I was whole once again.. yet, whenever you left… the pain it left was scarring, it felt as if half of my soul was ripped from my body and left with you… but, now that you’re here, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore… right?

He cups your cheek with his hand before he leans in closer. His breath hitting your lips as he stares into your eyes.

“No my angel, not at all..”

He leans in and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. The feeling of his lips on your cheek and the small smooch sound makes your face burn red as you let out a soft gasp. Leading him to chuckle softly before kissing your other cheek. This one more quick and sweet than the previous one. Then you let out a soft yawn as you begin to realize just how tired you were.

“I’ll talk to candy apple cookie about the possibility of sewing lessons. Until then…”

He carefully picks you up in a bridal style, grabbing his mic and the roses in his arm, feeling the silk of your nightgown against his hands. His face begins to burn a soft red as well before he sighs with a smile and carries you to your bed. Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean your head against his chest. You look up at him as he looks down to you. It feels tense, but also peaceful. A air of mutual trust and affection for the other. And black sapphire couldn’t ask for anything more precious than seeing you in his arms all tired and needy in his arms!

He carefully sets you down in the bed of soft and warm covers that are trimmed in lace. He moves a strand of hair or two from your tired face as you smile softly. He carefully kicks off his boots and sits next to your form on the bed, his smile unwavering as he watches you try and get up.

“Ah-ah, no need to sit up my dear. Let me join you…”

You nod as he He gets up from your side of the bed and sets his mic down before stepping over to your vanity to set the roses on the vanity next to the soft eternal white rose that he gave to you the night before the big fight. He then walks around the bed and climbs into the opposite side as you turn to him as he sets his mic down on the nightstand and lies down next to you, covering you and him in the soft and warm blankets. It’s strange for him, to be in the same bed as someone, and to have the same feelings that he’s had for flings. Yet he doesn’t feel the need to satisfy his lustful urge so quickly. This soft tension between you both is adamant, yet it’s not inherently lust. It feels more gentle, intimate even. It feels as if it’s a sense of yearning. He smiles softly as he cuddles closer to you, holding you carefully in his arms and rub your back as you lean your head on his chest.

“…thank you…”

“For what?”

“…for letting me trust you. I don’t usually let cookies into my life like this, let alone let them into my bed.. this is sort of my safe space, my safe haven from the rest of the world. And now you’re part of that safe haven too…”

You yawn as you wrap your arms around his waist as you cuddle closer to him. A small sigh escapes his lips as his wings seem to wrap around your form as you close your eyes.

“I find it ironic how you find me of all cookies to be trustworthy, I’m far from it. But if an angel like you thinks of me like this, then maybe I’m not as bad as I thought I was…”

Black sapphire continues to rub your back and hold you close as you yawn softly and slowly begin to fall asleep in his arms…

“Trust me, I wish that were true as well. Yet this world is so cruel, so violent, so…”

You whisper slowly as you feel his hand on your head as he rubs your hair back slightly as he leaves a gentle kiss on your head to shush you.

“My dear angel, you need your rest. Go on off to sleep, I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt..~”

You yawn once more before you start to sleep in his arms, a small chuckle escapes black sapphire as he sees you close your eyes.

“Sweet dreams, sweet angel~”

Your eyes slowly open the next morning. The room has the light scent of a shower being taken, there’s a sense of warmth next to you as you look up to see black sapphire cookie. He’s in a black robe that’s partially opened, sipping on some tea and reading the local gossip papers as he waits for his hair to dry and fluff up again. His gaze reaches yours before you look away with a burning blush on your face. You can hear him chuckling slightly before he sets his tea and magazine down before leaning over to hug you again.

“Good morning my wonderful angel~.. I assume you slept well?”

You nod softly as you feel his arms around you. The soft robes keeping you warm as he nuzzles his face into the back of your neck. You let out a soft squeak before he chuckles and holds you closer, his wings fluttering as he smiles sweetly.

“Y’know, I can get used to this. Don’t you agree?”

You turn to him with some surprise on your face. He actually wants to stay? With you? You stare in awe at him, you honestly thought that he’d only want one night, since Y’know, you’re not really supposed to be lustful, not that you want to be anyways. But yet he wants to stay, all cuddled up with you in bed like this. You turn fully to face him.

“You.. you actually want to stay with me?”

“Do you really think I’d leave my post and search for countless hours and miles for you with the perfect roses just for a singular intimate night over? At that rate, it’d just be straight up manipulative and cruel. That’s something a sweet woman like you doesn’t deserve.”

He leans over and kisses your forehead gently as you giggle softly. He smiles softly as he watches you squirm and giggle in his arms before you cling onto him.

You lean your head on his chest as he wraps his wings around you again. Enjoying the morning sun, before his cell phone rings.

“Hold on a moment, my dear.”

He sits up slowly, grabbing his phone and answering it. His free hand carefully glides over to your cheek as he rubs it tenderly as he speaks on his cell phone. Through it, you can hear candy apple wondering where he is. Then squealing her ass off when she finds out that he’s with you. He yanks his phone away from his ear when she squeals. It’s so loud that you can hear it from the speaker.

You giggle softly as you scoot closer to him as he carefully moves his hand from your cheek to your wings as he plays with them, your head on his lap.

“Yes, yes candy apple, I was speaking to her about sewing lessons. You still wish to learn, right?”

You listen in carefully as you hear them chatter and bicker, as some siblings do. Eventually he taps your shoulder and you look up at him with a tender smile, and you swear you could see his eyes soften and sparkle a little bit when he sees you. He smiles softly and leans down to kiss your forehead. He caresses your hair carefully as he stares at you for a moment, completely in awe of your smile. Although, candy apple snaps him out of it when she calls him out.

“How does 11:30AM on Sunday sound for the first lesson..?”

You nod softly with a heavy blush on your face before you nuzzle into him. He smirks and goes back to talking to candy apple cookie. Once he hangs up, he’s back to lying next to you and holding onto you.

“Mmpphh.. she can be so annoying sometimes…”

You giggle softly as you wrap your arms around him, letting him get close to your neck and nuzzling into the crook of it. The scent of your perfume hits him like a truck before he sinks closer and deeper into your neck.

“At least you have someone to come home to and chat with… it makes me happy to know that you won’t be lonely..!”

He smiles and leaves a gentle kiss to your neck, a soft and tender one, full of warmth and love, a lacking of lust. A soft noise leaves him as he leaves a black lipstick mark on your neck, a little mark to say that he’s finally yours. A moment that feels like absolute heaven to him.

“And you won’t be lonely either, not now, not ever beyond here. You will never be alone, and I will never leave your side again… and don’t worry about my master, I’ll talk to him about this when I return to him. Until then, let me love you as you should have been treated for so many years…”

You sigh and hold him close to you. A smile forms on your face once more, a smile of knowing that you won’t be lonely, a smile of gratitude that this is the start of something absolutely beautiful…

——————————————————————

Shadow milk watches from one of the portals he used to keep an eye on his servants. His face holds a smug smirk and an amused look on his face. He knew all along he fell for you, it just took a while for him to finally admit it and go running towards you. Candy apple is watching as well, trying so hard not to squeal at the cuteness in front of her. He closes the portal and sends a quick message to black sapphire cookie.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t break her heart. You hear me?”

He sends the message and then looks to candy apple cookie, who is clearly worried about her brother.

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

He shakes his head with a smirk. He knows black sapphire will be stubborn about it, and he’s worked hard.. eh, why not? She’s not that dangerous yet.

“Nah, I’ll let him have this. He’s worked quite hard for me for these past millennium, the least I can do is reward him for his dedication!”

He sets his phone down before candy Apple drags him to the sewing room, rambling on about how you’re planning on teaching her how to sew, and how she already made mock up designs for his puppets. He giggles softly before they leave you two be, in the peace and quiet of the start of your happily ever after…

——————————————

FINALLY. AFTER 5 MONTHS, IT IS COMPLETE! I hope you all enjoyed this, because this took forever. I also am open to requests for cookie run fanfics, just the usual boundaries of no proships or anything like that!

—————————————-

My taglist for people who probably want to read this!:

@graywasxivara @hunniegl4zed

#black sapphire cookie #black sapphire cookie x reader #angel!reader #crk x fem reader #fluff #romance #LONG ONESHOT #fandom #shadow milk crk #candy apple cookie #motherly figure reader for candy apple! ^*#god damn #this took forever #I’m done with it tho!#and yes #I’m writing a prequel to it

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nanamineedstherapy · 30 days ago

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Quiet Luxury Husband, Loud Wife Antics

F!Pregnant Reader x Nanami Kento

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

A/N: When your husband is so unshakable he could be a national monument, but you still stick googly eyes on him at 8 months pregnant. Enjoy this slice of domestic terrorism (ft. Nanami Kento’s ‘I will endure anything for my wife’ era). No spoilers, but someone does consider counter-terrorism via kitchen counter.

[TikTok Video: Part 1—Nanami Kento | Caption: “ Kento husband maintenance log: 8 months pregnant, no thoughts, only violence ” ]

TikTok audio: Lana Del Rey’s “ Gods & Monsters ” slowed reverb.

The camera opens like a secret. Dim morning light spills through the blinds. The kitchen hums—quiet, futuristic, the kind of expensive sterile-chic only a trillionaire household could make feel this intimate.

Then: him.

Nanami Kento.

Bare-chested. Grey slacks riding just low enough to ruin someone’s family. His hair’s longer now—half tied back with your scrunchie, the blue one he stole because "it smells like you." His back muscles move beneath his skin like something engineered, a poem written in sinew.

He's cutting vegetables on the marble island. Clean, silent. The kind of man who makes slicing a cucumber look like a combat technique. Every movement exact. Every line of his body taut with the discipline of a man who hasn’t truly relaxed since 2006.

The fridge door is still open. Mango slices glisten inside. He doesn’t notice you filming.

You voiceover, deadpan:

“Welcome to my villain arc. Today we test how desensitized my husband is.”

You walk in, barefoot. Ankles slightly swollen. Belly massive, commanding. A goddess waging war in maternity shorts and a sleep shirt with Gojo’s lip balm stain.

You sneak up behind him.

You press a cold mango slice to his temple.

Nothing. Not even a blink. The knife keeps moving.

A delicate gold chain. "MILF PROPERTY" in dainty script.

You loop it around his neck. He lifts his chin slightly to help you clasp it. Doesn't comment.

You hand him your gaming mouse. “You’re the COO now.”

He shifts the knife to his left hand and accepts the mouse with his right.

“I'm already handling procurement,” he says, eyes still on the chopping board.

Googly eyes. Two of them. One for each nipple.

You apply them.

He breathes out through his nose. But he lets you.

Then a banana.

You hold it to his ear. “There’s a call from HR.”

This time, he pauses.

Looks down at the banana. Then at your belly.

"Tell them I’m on paternity leave until these ones are born,” he says. Calm. Final. A soldier filing his last report before battle.

Another voiceover by you says,

“I gave up on resistance after week 22. He’s in his wife era now.”

You slap a Post-it on his back, “CEO’s Most Valuable DILF.”

He freezes.

The knife goes down.

The camera zooms in.

He turns—slowly. A full 180°. Stares at you.

No smile. No scolding. Just… that look.

The Look.

The one that says he’s thinking about taking a different vacation right now.

The one that says, “I could lift you onto this countertop right now and make you forget your own name.”

The one that says, “I’ll play along. But there will be consequences.”

He takes a single step toward you.

Text on screen, He blinked once. The earth trembled.

Cut to black.

Top Comment:

@CorporateKitten: Did he even blink??

@MommyIsMyBoss: This is military-grade desensitization.

@GojosMoans6KSurroundSound: That man has suffered.

@FeralNanami: THE NECKLACE. I NEED ONE FOR MY HUSBAND RN.

@RacoonLawyer: Petition to get Nanami a Nobel for patience.

@ExecutiveDelulu: I want him biblically. & also legally & also violently.

@GojoIsScreamingInTheWalls: This is quiet luxury husband energy. Like he’s been professionally trained to suffer for his wife.

@KentoMilkDaddy: The necklace. The googly eyes. AND HE STILL DIDN’T FLINCH. Sir?? How???

@PregnantInMyMind: Tell me where you got that man. I’ll get pregnant today.

@MayaTheBrainSTD: He was hotter when he said, “Paternity leave?” The bar is in hell, and he’s setting it lower.

---

A/N: If you gasped, cackled, or now need a ‘MILF PROPERTY’ necklace immediately, yell at me in the comments. (Nanami’s patience needs validation. Gojo’s ego needs a medic.)

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Next Chapter - Domain Expansion: Codependent Tamagotchi - [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

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altocat · 1 year ago

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Not me sitting up late thinking about how Sephiroth spends all of FS Chapter 8 worrying about his men, pushing himself to physical exhaustion trying to save and protect them...

...only for THIS to happen in Rebirth. Right in his face. Mocking him.

Idk how long it takes to write the scripts for FS compared to the development timeline for Rebirth. But these two events had to have had some level of narrative syncing during the writing process. Someone HAD to know one would echo the other. And it's so, so cruel.

A man who wished to preserve life despite his station. Growing into a man who sought to end life at all costs.

#sephiroth #asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #first soldier #ffvii first soldier #ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis #ffvii rebirth #Ff7 rebirth #Ff7r #final fantasy vii

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thewinter-eden · 3 months ago

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Blood Sugar Virus (8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, ages are based on current Ateez rather than the time at which the actual episode was filmed, descriptions of violence, fear, injury, very brief vomiting (not descriptive), someone turns into a zombie, someone gets attacked (not descriptive), language.

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

Navigating this hellscape with a clear head feels like an impossible task, but it’s the only way forward. Whether you like it or not, you got everybody into this mess and you’re going to get everyone out. It’s not about the thrill of the game or the paycheck or your career success anymore.

Now, somehow, it’s about safety.

Maybe not life and death—you hope it’s not life and death—but certainly trauma and injury. You’ve been attacked, Wooyoung has been attacked, Yeosang’s been thrust into danger, and you don’t know how the other six members of Ateez are doing.

This is your problem. You have to approach it with a clear head. “The gym and locker room are across the hall.” You push up your sleeves and pretend your heart isn’t racing. When you get home and crawl into bed, you can cry to your heart’s content.

Right now you have to be steady.

“So?” Wooyoung is still dizzy by your shift in behavior, jumping off the desk to follow you.

“So there will be towels. Plenty of towels. My thought is, if there are others…similarly affected, and the teeth are the threat,” you pause and remember the claw marks Jin has left on your ribs. You shake it off. That’s a problem for later. “Then we cover the teeth.”

“Using towels.” Yeosang appears beside you. “That’s smart.”

You move to step into the hall, and then stop. “Actually,” turning back to your clients, you point to the window that’s on the exterior wall. “You guys can get that open and get out. I’ll find the others.”

“No way, I’m coming.” Wooyoung argues. When you shoot him a glance, he lifts his good hand to stop your next words. “I can help you find them.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to do this by yourself. What if there are more of them?” Yeosang adds.

Your jaw clenches, displeased with the way his reference to ‘them’ seems to suck the humanity out of the situation. “They’re my friends. They’re not monsters. And they’re not your responsibility.”

Startled by the hint of hostility in your tone, Yeosang lets your words hang for a moment. He glances at Wooyoung, who also appears somewhat abashed. “But our friends aren’t just yours either.”

“You are my clients. You are my responsibility. You should go.” The last thing you want is to send the only sane people in your vicinity away and go into the depths of the nightmare school by yourself, but you have to put them first. They have a chance to get to safety.

They have a chance to be out of danger.

But as you cross the hall and step into the gym, you find them both behind you.

Of course they’re not leaving.

Of course they won’t leave their brothers in danger.

“We don’t even know if the companies are still out there.” Wooyoung tells you. “If they were, wouldn’t they have come for us by now?”

You don’t answer. You don’t want to think about that.

Because he’s right.

Your crew should have been breaking the doors down by now, so where are they?

“Towels.” Yeosang is to your right, elbows deep in a laundry basket. He pulls out a stack of folded bath towels, and tosses two to Wooyoung. “Wasn’t there another team downstairs?”

“I haven’t seen anyone. We made a lot of noise, wouldn’t they have come out?” Wooyoung slings the towels over his shoulder and turns back to the hall. “Unless they’re hurt. We should check the rooms as we go.”

“They might have thought the noise was zombies. Or sound effects. We have some scream tracks.” You offer, accepting two more towels from Yeosang.

If they’re going to stay with you, that’s their choice. That’s on them. And honestly you’re grateful. You’re not sure you could convince yourself to do this alone.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Do you have scream tracks like that?” Yeosang meets your eyes, doubtful.

“I heard you scream Yeo’s name from the first classroom.” Wooyoung tells you. “I thought—I dunno, I thought you would be in a lot worse shape than I found you.”

He has a point.

You turn away. “There are twenty people in this building. If the five of us made all that noise, then where is everyone else?”

Now armed with your measly cloth shields, the three of you venture back into the hall and make your way towards the stairs. If anything at all went according to your program, none of the other teams should have been on the first floor.

The first Fever Time was supposed to send all of the zombies to the second floor.

“Dammit.” You had forgotten about the Fever Times.

“What?” Wooyoung is keeping close to you, his eyes scanning as you go.

“The class bells are automated. They’re set to go off every fifteen minutes for the zombie Fever Time. How long has it been?”

Wooyoung checks the nearest clock. “Thirteen minutes. But the program is over, right? It’s just noise now.”

“It’s over to us.” Yeosang reminds him. “Who knows what’s happening upstairs. And who knows what’s happening with the actors. If they’re like Jin and Taehyung, it might set them off for real. That’s when Jin bit you, right?”

You don’t have to answer that.

They both know the answer.

“Something’s wrong with Hobie, too.” You’ve arrived at the entrance. The glass doors loom before you, still chained, still streaked with blood.

Wooyoung’s blood.

You pause. “Last chance, guys.”

Wooyoung just nudges you towards the stairs. “We all have friends we’re not leaving behind. We’re not leaving.”

As you mount the steps, you find Yeosang at your elbow once again. “Hoseok, right? You noticed something?” A moment passes and he lets out a terse breath. “Back there, before everything happened, when we were still playing—when you saw Hoseok—“

“His hand was broken.” You interrupt flatly. “All twisted and hanging. And he wasn’t even reacting, he was still acting like a zombie.”

“So when I grabbed you,” Yeosang looks to you again, regret splashed across his face. “When I covered your mouth.”

“You probably saved us from a first bite.” You respond firmly. “If he’s like the others, if he can’t feel the pain, he probably would have attacked us.”

“God, this is insane. What the hell happened to them?” Wooyoung mutters.

“Still.” Yeosang says to you. “You tried to tell me. I thought you were acting. I’m sorry.”

You shrug and feel the sting in your bite. “You wouldn’t have believed I wasn’t acting anyway. I wouldn’t even have believed it. Before Jin…before all of that, I thought Namjoon had just added to the program without telling me.”

You’re on the first landing now.

“Let’s be quiet.” Wooyoung whispers. “If they’re all upstairs we shouldn’t draw attention before we know what’s going on up there.”

Yeosang nods, and you grit your teeth.

The moment you reach the second floor, every bell in the school comes alive.

So much for silence.

SAN | YUNHO

Jungkook shrugs off his ropes and unfolds himself from his chair, stretching his aching limbs as traces of the blue liquid still burn an uncomfortable trail down the back of his throat. “Kinda brave of you guys to use your only cure on us. What if you get bit?” He shoots them a wry grin and stretches his arms over his head.

Yunho shrugs and helps Jennie get her balance as she stands on stiff legs. “Guess we’ll just have to not get bit.”

San is scanning the chalkboard, looking for more information, but it’s just the instruction to rescue one of the students. Nothing more. “You said the professor tied you up? Namjoon? So he’s not a zombie?”

Jungkook moves to the windows and checks the hallway. “No he’s not a zombie. He created the zombies.”

Yunho snorts. “Kinda dumb. Why would he do that? Is this an evil scientist story?”

“Dr. Kim is not dumb, or evil.” Jennie retorts. “Misguided opportunist, maybe.”

“Didn’t you just call him a sadistic psychopath?” Jungkook responds snappily.

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, when I was tied up with a zombie.”

“You were the zombie, dumbass.” Jungkook grabs her arm and shows the prosthetic bite wound that was hidden by her sleeve.

She looks sheepish. “Right. Forgot. Anyway.” She turns back to Yunho and San, who are both somewhat embarrassed that they didn’t check for bite marks. “Dr. Kim was working on the key to immortality. I guess he got his formula wrong, because—“

“Because instead of curing death, he started the damn apocalypse and invented a new way to die.” Jungkook finishes sardonically. “Real smart guy, huh?”

“So if he’s not evil and the zombie thing was an accident, why are you so worried about him taking Rosé? I assume he wasn’t trying to keep her safe?” San asks.

Jennie looks almost apologetic. “No. Not really. Kind of. Apparently he had the next stage of his immortality cure worked up and he needed to test it. You know, before the entire school gets infected.”

“Charming.” Yunho mutters. “So he’s giving her a potentially worse zombie virus.”

“Or maybe he succeeded this time.” Jungkook shrugs glibly. “You break some eggs trying to come up with immortality.”

“Sure.” San utters a laugh and turns to Yunho. “So what do we do now? We saved the students, we should get the next clue, right?”

“Right.” Jungkook digs in his pocket. He retrieves a slip of paper and passes it to San. “Rosé snuck me this before he took her away. She says they’re taking her upstairs to his lab. If they made it up there, maybe we still have time before he gives her the serum.”

Yunho pockets the note and checks the clock. “We have five minutes until the next Fever Time. I say we stay here until it’s over and then make for the stairs.” He pulls up a chair and sits, San following suit.

“I love this.” San says. “It’s like we’re in an action movie. I didn’t know Namjoon was gonna be the antagonist.”

“He’s not!” Jennie stumbles over a chair leg and rubs at her arm around the itchy prosthetic bite. “He wasn’t trying to create the zombies.”

Jungkook looks a little green. “She’s in love with the boss, ignore her. It makes her a sympathizer.”

Jennie gives his arm a solid whack. “I am not. Immortality is not an evil pursuit.”

“Depends on how you view the course of nature.” Jungkook shoots back, and leans against a wall. “God my head hurts.”

“Wait, like actually? Or just for the story? You and Namjoon?” San turns to Jennie. “Are there couples in your team?”

Jennie shoots him a wink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just students.”

Scoffing, Jungkook slides himself down to the floor to sit. “Nice professionalism.”

“Shut up.”

“No, for real. I want to know. We don’t have anything to do right now, right?” San pushes cheerfully. “We won’t tell anyone you broke character.”

“Oh none of us are officially dating.” Jennie says, moving to sit with San and Yunho. “Once upon a time we thought Sugar and Jimin were gonna be a thing, but—“

“Ugh, god, I feel sick.” Jungkook grumbles.

“Dude, can it, who says I’m not gossiping about our classmates?” Jennie waves off her snarky colleague and grins at San. “And then there was this program where Taehyung and Yoongi—“

When she breaks off, Yunho looks up.

She’s leaning over, one hand on her stomach. “Actually, I kinda feel sick too.” Jennie looks at Jungkook and frowns. “It’s burning, right?”

Just as she says the words, Jungkook slumps over on his side. He’s clutching his abdomen, groaning painfully through his teeth. “What the fuck,” his voice is gritted, shaking. “It was just supposed to be soju.”

Before either San or Yunho can move, Jennie falls heavily off of her chair.

“Check her,” Yunho says, rushing to Jungkook. “Is this the game? Hey, I’m serious, is this an act?” He pulls Jungkook up by the shoulders and finds himself bearing almost all of the older man’s weight.

“She’s convulsing. There’s blood and bile,” San has a handful of Jennie’s hair as she writhes on the floor next to him. “I don’t think this is fake—oh shit!” He jumps forward and yanks her off the floor as her head slams against the tile, her entire body rigid and tense.

Jungkook leans away from Yunho and pukes a string of stomach bile and blood, shakily scrubbing at his mouth with his sleeve. “Something’s wrong.” He mutters. “Fuck I don’t feel good.”

Yunho watches helplessly as the man twitches, hands trembling violently. Jungkook’s body lurches and convulses, just like Jennie’s. “What the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know!” San is panicking. “I think she’s choking, hyung, I don’t know—“ before he can finish, Jennie twists and seizes him by the arms. In a flash, her eyes are black pits, her face pale as death.

“I want—“ she shudders, and pukes again on the floor between them. “I want—“

San tries to keep her upright, his hands gripping her shoulders. “What? I can find water. I can run downstairs and find the crew, they can get help.”

Jungkook grips Yunho’s arm. “The bottles.”

Yunho’s eyes snap to the empty cure bottles forgotten on the desk. “The cure bottles?”

“Don’t drink them.” Jungkook rasps, squeezing his eyes shut. “They’re not—“ he groans and covers his face with his hands, clenching fists over his eyes. “They’re not what we put in them. My head is pounding. Oh god.”

Yunho doesn’t hear the next thing he says.

His attention is stolen by a sudden shriek as Jennie hurls herself at San, teeth flashing white in the dim room.

San throws himself back, the small woman curled over his chest and her hands gripping his shirt so tightly her nails pierce his skin. “Stop—hyung!—stop, fuck, stop!”

When Yunho tries to get up to get the actor off of his friend, Jungkook’s hand tightens around his arm. “Put me in the back room. Yunho, I swear to god, put me in the back room.”

Yunho tries to shake him off, but Jungkook is strong. “Why? The fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Just do it. I want—“ Jungkook’s eyes roll, and he shakes his head to force himself back into focus. “Put me in the fucking closet before I fucking take a bite out of you.”

Right on cue, the second Fever Time begins.

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22

#ateez #ateez yeosang #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung #jungkook #jennie kim #blackpink #bts #horror #zombies #jeong yunho #choi san

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tessenpai · 5 months ago

Text

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 140 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans: Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 140 – Rawkuma

Page 1

Takezou [thoughts]: Here comes the final push!!!

Side text: The hearts and the hands, together...!!

Chapter title: #140 -Harmony

Page 2 & 3

*No text*

Page 4

*No text*

Page 5

*No text*

Page 6 & 7

*No text*

Page 8 & 9

*No text*

Page 10

Chika [thoughts]: Next up is Momoya's...

Satowa [thoughts]: Momoya-kun's--

Page 11

Kota[memory]: So tomorrow, just do what you like best, Momoya.

Page 12

Suzuka [thoughts]: An arpeggio?

Suzuka [thoughts]: -No, this is...

Page 13

Thoughts: "The 9th Sound" from

Page 14

*No text*

Page 15

Thoughts: -The Roar of the Dragon

Page 16

Principal[memory]: Eh...?

Granny Nishina[memory]: Heh,

Granny Nishina[memory]: I can hear a dragon's cry.

Granny Nishina[memory]: No friends.

Granny Nishina[memory]: The cry of a lonely dragon.

Chika [thoughts]: This is... The part Hozuki did in Ryuusegun--...

Takezou [thoughts]: Why is Momoya-kun---

Chika [memory]: Let me tell you about our first performance!!!

Chika [memory]: If it wasn't for that performance, none of us would be here!

Phone Screen: "Ryuusegun"

Page 17 & 18

*No text*

Page 19

Suzuka: ---Ha...

Suzuka: Haha

Principal [thoughts]: In Ryuusegun, it was "The cry of a lonely dragon"

Granny Nishina [thoughts]: But this sound is like--

Page 20

Granny Nishina [thoughts]: I can hear those children laughter.

Page 21

Suzuka: Go...!

Suzuka [thoughts]: It's time to sweep over them all.

Page 22

*No text*

Page 23 & 24

*No text*

Page 25 & 26

*No text*

Page 27 & 27

*No text*

Page 29

*No text*

Page 30

*No text*

Page 31 & 32

*No text*

Page 33

*No text*

Page 34

Side text: The nine of them, together, ran towards this sound: Harmony!!

---Kono Oto Tomare! will be on a break next month!---

#kono oto tomare #kono oto tomare!#kot #sounds of life #stop this sound!#kot!#rough tl #translation #scans #kono oto #kono oto tomare 140 #kot 140 #kot! 140 #kono oto 140

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whimsiwitchy · 11 months ago

Text

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter three: you make me nervous

Pedro Pascal x F!reader

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing, use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses.

authors note: Hi everyone. I just posted chapter two a few hours ago but my mind was buzzing with ideas lol. This chapter has a lot of awkward energy so I apologize in advance. Enjoy <3

chapter summary: y/n attends the table read for Risky Disco and gets to know Pedro.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The week leading up to the table read seemed to drag on. Even though you kept yourself busy, it was like every time you looked at a clock, it ticked slower and slower. You were somewhat grateful for the delay as it gave you more time to prepare yourself for your first day working on Risky Disco. Not only did it delay your first day of work, it also delayed having to see Pedro again. You felt so silly. One ten minute interaction was invading your entire nervous system. To prepare yourself to see him again, you started watching interviews and clips of him acting. You wanted to know what his personality was like so you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself when you two are bound to cross paths fairly soon. Whenever you weren’t working your server job, you were reading through your script or watching videos on Pedro. You felt kind of weird finding out things about him when he would know nothing about you, but hey that’s the price of fame right? People knowing things about someone without that person knowing anything about them.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was set to start at 9am. So naturally, you were up at 5am to get ready for the day. You took a quick shower and started to decide what to wear. Trying to keep comfort in mind, you scanned your closet for an outfit. Table reads usually include a lot of sitting so you knew you didn’t want to wear anything too tight around your stomach. You hated when you sat and your jeans would dig into your stomach or when your ‘baggy’ jeans tightened around your thigh when it flattened against whatever you were sitting on. You really wanted to look as cute as possible though, for yourself of course, not for anyone else…

You decided to wear a pair of sheer black pantyhose, with black shorts pulled over them, accompanied by a simple black v neck long sleeve shirt. For shoes you wore your trusty pair of classic docs. Once you were dressed, you worked on your hair and makeup, keeping it fairly simple. Looking at the time, it was now 7am. You made a quick breakfast and drank a cup of coffee. After you finished eating, you grabbed a tote bag and filled it with all of your essentials: your script, chapstick, lipstick, perfume, deodorant, and wallet. You then filled up your reusable water bottle, grabbed your keys and made your way out of the door.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was taking place in the same building as the audition, making it a lot easier to find where to go and park. After parking your car, it was 8:30. You decided to go ahead and go inside. When you walked in, you spoke to a receptionist who told you what room to go to. As you neared the room, you realized that you were the first person here and for some reason that was embarrassing for you. Instead of going in, you lingered near the door and tried to look busy on your phone. After five minutes of opening and closing different apps, you heard someone walking down the hallway. You kept your head down and pretended to text someone so you didn’t look like such a loser.

“Hey, y/n right?”

Your entire body tensed up, you know that voice. You know that voice a little too well after all of your ‘research’.

“I’m Pedro, I read lines with you during your audition.” You finally looked up and you almost let out a gasp. He was wearing a pair of light denim jeans, a basic black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. You let your eyes meet his and you saw that he also sported a baseball style cap with a pair of glasses. In conclusion, he looked good. Too fucking good.

“Oh yeah that’s me. Hi, it’s nice to actually meet you.” You let out the words better than you thought you would. He gives you a smile and raises his hand to offer a handshake. You reach out and latch your hand to his. His hand was soft yet rough at the same time and it engulfed yours in a perfect way. You both let go and stand in silence for a moment.

“So, just us so far?” he asked as he looked around. “Yea, I guess so. I feel like such a weenie getting here so early.” You cringed at your choice of words but Pedro let out a laugh. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t say you're a weenie.” he said with emphasis on the word ‘weenie’. “You’re professional, early is good.” You gave him a thankful smile. “I had this theater teacher that would hound us for not being on time. She would always say ‘early is on time and- ""-and on time is late.” he finishes the phrase for you and the two of you both let out a small laugh. “You hear that a lot in the acting world. Yet no one seems to follow it.” He says while looked down at his phone to check the time.

Silence falls over you two and you start fidgeting with your fingers as a distraction. “Hey, why don’t we go ahead and sit down. We can show off our skills of being on time to all of the late weenies.” He smiles and you laugh at his use of weenie again. Pedro opens the door for you and you let out a quick thank you. As you walk in, you see a large table with name tags in front of each chair. You glance around the table, searching for your name. Once you found it, you made your way to your chair and Pedro took a seat right next to you.

He was so close to you and it was too intense. First he comes in looking like sex on legs, now he’s sitting only a few inches away from you. He smells so good. You wish you could just- “You don’t walk much do you?” he asked as he turned to look at you. You do the same. “Sorry, I don’t want you to think I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I just get weird around new people and don’t really know how to act and I just have horrible people skills in general sometimes. You also kind of make me really nervous.” You shut up and quickly turn to face forward with a blush on your face. “I make you nervous?” He asked. You gave him a quick glance and saw that he had that stupid smirk on his face. You actually can’t believe you just said that out loud. You had never been someone who got the nervous rambles. You usually just give a short answer and keep quiet. You were so humiliated it was unbearable. Luckily, the room began to fill up with other actors and crew members. You felt Pedro shift beside you and your leg started bouncing out of nervous habit.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The table read was surprisingly uneventful. You had been nervous to read lines back and forth with Pedro but somehow your mind locks in when it’s time to act. You could still feel the intensity, especially when it came to the scene that led up to the steamy moment between the main characters. You just ignored the butterflies and kept reading.

Once it was over, the director gave a little speech and the crew gave us a few notices. Letting everyone know to check their emails frequently for any changes made to the schedule. As soon as they released everyone for the day, you gathered your things and began to make the walk back to your car. Just as you were grabbing your door handle, you heard your name being called. When you looked up Pedro was jogging over to you. “Hi.” He said as he stopped in front of you. “Uhh hi.” You said awkwardly, still embarrassed from earlier. “Would you maybe want to hang out, get to know each other a little bit? We’ll be spending a lot of time together on screen and I would love to get to know you outside of filming and stuff.” All you could do is stand there and look at him. “I’ll try my best not to make you nervous.” He teased as he smiled brightly at you awaiting an answer. “If I agree to this, you have to promise to not make me nervous.” You held your pinky up and he linked his with yours, locking in his promise. You both dropped your hands. “So uh, what do you want to do?” “I honestly didn’t think that far ahead, I was just trying to catch you before you left.” You look down at the ground and think. “I mean you could come to my place. It’s small and there’s not much to do but we can just hang around and talk I guess…” You trail off at the end looking up at him. “Yea that sounds perfect.” There's a pause… “Uh, do you want me to give you my address or something?” “Oh yea here, let me give you my number so you can send it to me.” You pull out your phone and go to create a new contact. You hand your phone to him and he types in his number. When he hands it back, you notice that he set his contact name to ‘Pedro :)’. You smiled a little and opened the message app and sent him your address. “I just sent it. Did you get it?” He grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Yea I got it.” another pause… “Uh okay cool well, I’ll see you there I guess.” “Yea see you there.” He smiles. “Just text me or something when you get there so you don’t get lost in my apartment complex.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you got home and hadn’t received a text from Pedro yet, you ran inside and quickly cleaned up as much as you could and sprayed some air freshener.

‘I’m here :)’

Shit. You checked your appearance in the mirror before running out of the door and down to the parking lot. When you saw him, you started rethinking your entire life that led up to this point. What did you do to deserve having a sexy ass man want to hang out and get to know you?? I mean it’s for work purposes but still, it counts in your head as something more. You saw him get out of his car and make his way over to you. “Hi, um, follow me.” God why did you have to be so weird. “Okie dokie, lead the way.”. Once the two of you reached your apartment, you opened the door and walked inside. “You can take your shoes off if you want, I don’t really care but if you’d be more comfortable you can.” You look at him and he’s smiling at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I keep rambling.”. You sigh and usher him to follow you to the living room. He takes off his jacket and hat. The sight of his biceps in that tight ass black shirt almost has you drooling. You try to collect yourself as quickly as possible before he notices anything. You take off your doc martens and plop down on the couch. You pat the couch and he sits on the other end. This is so fucking awkward oh my god.

“Do you want anything to drink or something?”.

“No it’s okay, thank you though.”

“No problemo.”

Silence..

“Is there anything specific you want to know or um..” You look at him and quickly look away. “Sorry I'm really not good at meeting new people and being myself.” Your leg starts to bounce. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. You told me you had trouble with new people and I sprung this on you.” His eyes move around the room. “You don’t have to be sorry. I promise I want to get to know you too, I just don’t really know how to do that.”

He thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with what we already know about each other, then we can ask each other questions based on that? Sound good?” You nod.

“I can go first. I know your name is y/n. I also know that you’re 35 and that you’re an actress.” You squint your eyebrows together. 35? Where the hell did he get that from? You think for a moment.. Oh fuck. You completely forgot that Angie said you were 35 to get the audition.

“Oh um yeah. Well I know your name is Pedro, I think you’re 49 but I’m honestly not that sure, and I also know that you’re an actor.” oh yea totally believable that you didn’t know this man's age by adding an ‘I think’ super smooth…

“How long have you been acting?”

“Well I moved here like six years ago, almost seven at this point. I did some theater in high school. So however long that is. This is my first big role though.” “That’s surprising.” “What is?” “That this is your first big role.” “Why do you say that?” “Sweetheart, your audition was incredible. You were a natural.”

Sweetheart

“Oh um thank you. I’d like to think I’m good.” “You are good.” He sets his hand on your thigh and squeezes as he speaks and immediately retracts his hand. You can still feel the warmth of his quick touch and the spot tingles. Your heart is beating at an unhealthy speed. You look down at your thigh and back to his stupid handsome smiling face.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The two of you continued to talk and get to know each other. You spoke about acting, family, interests, hobbies. Once the conversation flowed more, it was easier to let loose and talk to him without stuttering every two seconds.

Pedro was laughing at something you said when your stomach growled.

“Oh my god that is so embarrassing.” You hide your face in your hands. “No need to be embarrassed sweetheart.” There was that name again. “I should leave soon, I didn’t realize it was so late already.” You really wanted him to stay. “You don’t have to go. I was probably going to order something if you wanted to join me.” You offered hoping he would say yes. “I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll get out of your hair.” “Oh. Okay.”. He stood up and stretched his arms up, making his shirt raise just enough for you to catch a glance at his lower tummy. You quickly looked away and stood up as well.

He put his hat and jacket back on. “Well I should head out.” “Yea.. yea um I’ll walk you out.” You both started walking towards the door. “I’ll see you soon yea? Next time you better not be all shy again you hear me?” “No promises. You make me nervous, remember?.” He chuckles. You open the door for him. He gives you a quick goodbye and then he's gone. You close the door and make your way back to the couch to sit down. You ordered some food and tried to process everything that happened today.

As you were eating, you got a text.

Pedro :)

I had a lot of fun today, we should do it again.

You start to text a reply but before you can hit send, another text comes through.

Pedro :)

Did I mention that you looked really beautiful today?

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

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wardenparker · 2 months ago

Text

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 9

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Talk of pregnancy/family planning. Family drama. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex, lovemaking. Summary: Javi encounters a little trouble working on his next script, so you decide to get away for the weekend - to an unconventional destination. Notes: Sorry for the slight delay this week, gang. And to the few of you who pointed out a missing section in the last chapter, I will be fixing it this week. Please accept my sincerest apologies for that editing snafu.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

Thursday, June 5, 2025

Blowing out a breath, Javi stares at the screen and the cursor that seems to mock him as it blinks at him. After weeks of the scenes pouring out of him, he’s hit a wall. Unable to decide where the scene and ultimately, the film, will go. He needs a change of scenery, he decides as he pushes back from his desk. Needing to see you and remind himself of the character he has envisioned. “Sweetheart?”

“In the living room!” You’ve been hard at work for days with an idea of your own and feel like you’ve barely come up for air except to work and have meals with Javi. Designing clothes again after so long has your mind buzzing.

He takes his time, stopping by the kitchen for a drink and making sure he gets one for you. You are so like him when you are in the middle of something, ignoring your needs. “How is it going?” He asks as he sets down the cup on a safe surface. He has learned his lesson when he had spilt a cup on some of your delicate fabrics. He had felt guilty and had insisted on going to buy you more, even though you said it could probably be washed out.

“I think,” you’re beaming, grinning, and practically giggling as you add one final streak of color to your sketch. “I finally have a design.”

“That’s great!” Javi beams, delighted that you are so absorbed in your hobby. He loves it, encourages it. Knowing how much guilt you push down from the way your family acted about your passion.

“It’s a little dramatic,” you admit. “But I know you wanted us to match, so I tried to keep the theme throughout.” When you flip your sketchbook around to show him, the image of a floor-length red evening gown with a cowl neckline, plunging low back, and dramatic wings exposing your back and shoulders that taper down to small buttons before giving way to the slight train off the long skirt is matched by the jacket-less tuxedo design as its partner. The last steak is color you added was the matching red stripes of material up his pant leg, which compliments a matching black set of pants and waistcoat in stunning jacquard fabric. The dramatic wings of your gown’s back are echoed in the lapels of the waistcoat, the small buttons are the same design as that of your gown. The pieces work in tandem as a set. The only added accent of color is the soft, almost imperceptible yellow of the dress shirt you’re going to make him. As if the shirt itself had been antiqued.

“It’s…” Javi is at a loss for words as he stares at it for a moment, honestly wishing that somehow this piece had been created for the film. “Stunning.” He whispers, not touching the drawing but his fingers edge around the page. “It looks like a modern era romantic costume.” He adds, looking up at you. “I love it.”

“I was thinking about adding a pocket to the waistcoat…” you bite your lip, cheeks warm with how excited he seems. “To put a red pocket square inside. Unless you think that’s too much?”

“No, it’s perfect.” He argues, shaking his head. “The exact fabric of the dress, sí?”

“Yes! Exactly. To carry the color through.” His excitement is always so infectious and you’re grinning again. “I don’t know what I want to do about shoes yet, but if I can find you glittery dress shoes I might burst with excitement.”

“If we can’t find what you want, we can always have them made he reminds you. “The costume department loves you and they work with everyone.”

“I can’t imagine it’s difficult to make glittery Oxfords,” you hum, chewing on your lip for a second. “I wonder if Louboutin makes them? Imagine black glitter on top with that red sole?”

“Call them up and see.” He says casually. “Tamara is in talks to model their women’s line.”

“Call them up?” You snort, huffing at him for being so casual about it. “Who am I to just call up Christian Louboutin and ask for custom shoes?”

“You are Javier Gutierrez’s wife - soulmate -” he scoffs back at you playfully as he pulls out his wallet and retrieves a black credit card, “who has one of these.” He knows money talks more than anything else. With unlimited funds, they would do anything you wanted.

“I’m never going to quite get used to the kind of power your name has in this town,” you tell him, leaning over the table to kiss him softly. Though Javi is relatively new in Hollywood he’s already getting a lot of attention — and his name opens a lot of doors. The rest? He’s right, the high budget opens the rest of the doors for him.

“I want you to have what you want.” He smiles. “Your exact vision.”

"Thankfully, we have time for me to get my gumption up." Once again, his utter faith in you has you believing that anything actually is possible. It's amazing the way he can do that every time. "But tell me how your work is going, love. We've both been at our projects all day."

Javi sighs softly, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Not good.” He admits, eyes dropping down to the tops of his house shoes. Feeling a little like he had let you and everyone else down. “I’ve written two sentences.”

"Oh, honey." He puts such hard expectations on himself, and he is always his harshest critique. "That's okay. Not every day is going to be a massive outpouring of words."

“Yeah.” He sighs again, feeling your hand going to his back and rubbing gently. “I might need a change of scenery.”

"Like getting out of the house to clear your head, or are we talking getting out of town for the weekend?" The filming schedule is a little different this week and you have extra days off so Javi might be thinking of taking advantage of that.

“Either, both.” He shrugs. “I don’t know.” Being so indecisive on the movie means that he’s indecisive on everything. “But you have your work too.”

"We're not filming again until Monday," you remind him, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. "I can take a break now that I have a design for our premiere outfits. Why don't we get out of town for a few days? See if we can wipe some of that worry away?"

“I don’t want to pull you away if you need to get started.” He knows getting away would help, but he also feels incredibly guilty about that.

"Sweetheart." Another kiss to his other temple and you smile softly. "I'm making two outfits for an event that is at least a year away. I can more than spare a few days to help you. I'd be glad to."

“Are you sure?” His question is soft, vulnerable. Hoping you aren’t just telling him what he needs to hear.

"I'm very sure." You promise him. Both of your hands slip around his to hold onto him, offering him the gentle strength of support. "Tell me where you want to go and I'll book the trip while you shower off this uncertainty."

“You pick.” He lifts his brows and gives you a pleading look. “Whatever you want.”

"Okay," you agree, giving him another kiss. "Go pack for a weekend away and I'll be upstairs as soon as I make the arrangements." You know what will help – or at least you have an inkling – and though it may end up being uncomfortable at times, helping Javi is worth it.

“Thank you.” He smiles and leans in to steal one more kiss. “I love you, amor.”

"I love you, too." Otherwise, you wouldn't be about to do what you're going to do. But for Javi? You're realizing that you really would give him anything.

Javi lets you go, reluctantly, but he knows your advice to shower away his frustration is a good one. You always know what he needs, even if he doesn’t.

As soon as he heads upstairs, you pull open your laptop and set to work booking the hotel and plane tickets, as well as arranging the rental car. Hopefully this helps. Hopefully you're not about to put yourself through the emotional ringer for nothing.

******

Friday, June 6, 2025

“Where are we?” He knows the destination, he got on the plane, but he has not idea why you brought him here. Wheeling his carry on, he follows as you lead him towards the car rental signs. You had just smiled at him as you bundled him into the car once you got the keys.

"This..." As if the world has summoned the most dramatic possible timing, you point out the upcoming road sign with a half-smile. Welcome to Mystic, CT it says in bright, cheery lettering. "Is my hometown."

“Are you—” he hadn’t expected that answer and he stares out the window in shock. “Your hometown…”

"You said you were stuck," you explain, hoping that this decision was the right one. Flying first class on the overnight flight to the east coast was gorgeous, but you could have flown anywhere. "And since the character is based on me...I hoped giving you some insight into how I grew up and where I came from might help?"

“It’s …it’s perfect.” He admits, twisting his head to look at you with concern on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But are you okay with being here?”

"I mean, I didn't call my parents or anything." That would be a huge step too far for you and you weren't prepared to do it in any way. "But showing you the things I actually like about this town? I can do that."

“Oh.” He nods seriously, understanding. You might never introduce him to your parents and he can accept that. “Then we will do just that.” He smiles. “Show me everything you liked here.”

"You know it's nothing to do with you." Driving into town, you head for the hotel that you registered for early check-in at. "It's that my step-dad is a dick bag who brainwashed my mom into being the worst version of herself." You sigh softly, turning right into the parking lot. "My actual father was her soulmate. I only remember him being happy and supportive. Even if that's just what he showed to his kid, at least it's a good thing, right? And then right after he died, she met Scott. And shit just went way downhill from there."

“Sweetheart,” he frowns slightly as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “You don’t have to justify it to me.” He snorts. “My cousin tried to kill me, remember? I wouldn’t let you within one hundred meters of him. I understand.”

"We really have the best families, don't we?" You huff, rolling your eyes to make him life as you park the car.

“Another little thing we have in common.” He agrees. “It doesn’t matter, we have made our family what we want it to be.”

"Yes we have." And for that you will be forever grateful. Javi understanding that family doesn't have to be blood has been amazing.

“Are we going to sleep before taking on your town?” Sleeping on a plane is never the best rest and he’s actually tired.

"We can if you want to." You sleep a hell of a lot better on planes than he does, but you wouldn't mind a nap. "It's still early. What if we take a nap and get up for lunch time?"

“Are you sure?” He feels like he’s nothing but a burden right now and he hates that feeling.

"I'm sure." Unbuckling your seatbelt and stretching, you lean across the center console to give him a kiss before opening the driver's side door of the rental car. "Come on, mi amor. Believe it or not, there's a lot of stuff to do in this little town. A nap is a good idea before we get started."

“Just an hour or so.” He promises, knowing that he will feel better when he’s laying next to you, wrapping up in your arms.

"If you need more, that's okay, too," you promise him.

“Lead the way.” He agrees, eager to see a place from a movie he’s seen. It’s been a long time, but he has a feeling you will be watching it together sometime this weekend.

Back to the car and off across town, the original location for Mystic Pizza is mostly the same as you remember it as a kid. It's still fairly clean and welcoming, the staff are still mostly pretty girls and all wearing t-shirts with the place's logo on them. It's an oddly warm sort of feeling, actually, but you welcome it. When the cheerful blonde seats you in a booth next to a window and hands you menus, you actually breathe a little easier. At least in this place, there's no chance of running into your mother. She still hates anywhere that your dad loved.

“What was your favorite pizza as a child?” He asks. “Pepperoni? Or were you adventurous?”

"They had this special..." you trail off slightly, looking down to check the menu and see if it's still there. "Here." It's right at the top, which somehow makes you feel an unexpected kind of warmth. "I guess it's their house special. Pepperoni, meatball, sausage, green peppers, onions, and mushrooms. That's what Dad and I would get."

“Then that’s what I want.” He decides immediately, wanting to bring back as many positive memories for you as he can. He can practically see you when you were younger from the few photos you’ve shown him. Making him smile as he imagines a little girl of his own that manages to look like your twin.

"If we're doing the childhood special, then we also need root beer," you tell him, and laugh at the memory of it. "Root beer in glass bottles felt like the fanciest thing in the world. Billie and I would pretend they were beer."

He chuckles. “Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you that I grew up drinking wine.” He teases.

"With where you grew up, that makes perfect sense." When a waitress comes over, Javi lets you order and hands over his menu with yours easily. "I would honestly be more surprised if you hadn't grown up drinking wine."

“I wish I still had some bottles from our collection.” He admits with a sigh. “My grandfather made wine when he was young and bored. Lucas finished it all off.”

"Lucas sounds better and better all the time." At least he's in prison now. Far away from Javi where he can never hurt him again. That's the solace you take whenever your husband's cousin comes up in conversation.

“He loved the wine.” He shrugs. “Claimed I was too sentimental. Wine is made to be drunk.”

"I love that you're sentimental," you counter, reaching over the table to take his hand. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting to keep physical memories."

“He would always open bottle on special occasions. My grandfather.” Javi tells you. “He would have loved you.”

"My father would have liked you, too." Your fingers are intertwined on the table top now. Something so habitual of the way you are together – always touching, always making sure the other is okay. "He always told me that whoever I found to spend my life with would have to shine just as specially as I did. You definitely would have fit that bill to him."

Having approval of his soulmate’s parent is always something that Javi had wondered. His failings as a person, as a man, were always so glaringly obvious in his family but he smiles as he thinks about what could have been. “He sounds amazing.” Javi admits. “My father…he always wanted more.” He squeezes your hand. “But at the end, he just hoped I found my soulmate. He would have enjoyed you. Your sass, your quiet strength.”

“My father would have liked your sense of humor.” All the memories you have of the man involve laughter and play. Of course you were little, but it always seemed to you like your mother forgot how to laugh after your father died. “And he would have loved how we met, too. The romance of it all.”

“He was a romantic?” Javi asks, encouraging you to talk about your father as much as you can remember. It helps you, especially after your mother had all but banned you from talking about your father.

“I think so.” The waitress comes back with your drinks and you smile and thank her before she speeds off again to help other tables. “I remember him always giving mom little presents. And bringing home flowers every Friday when he came home from work.”

“Every Friday?” He is impressed and makes a note to start bringing you flowers. Your face softened and your eyes fluttered when you spoke about it and he wants to show you that kind of love.

“Every Friday.” You confirm with an unconscious nod of your head. “My stepdad did this…He doesn’t like effort. So when they got engaged he bought her fake flowers and told her they were better because they never die. I don’t know how she fell for it.”

“That’s…” Javi makes a face of disapproval. “Efficient.” He decides tactfully, although his inner monologue is screaming ‘cheap!’.

“It sucks,” you agree flatly.

“What else can you tell me about him?” He asks. “What kind of things did he take you to do besides eat pizza?”

“He tried to get me into sports,” you snicker. “And when that failed, he started taking me to museums and the aquarium. We’d go sightseeing a lot. Play tourist in our state and the states nearby.”

“So you feel close to your father when you work.” Javi observes. “Tying back into your memories of visiting museums with your father.”

“I…” You pop the cap off of your root beer and look up at your husband in quiet surprise. “I actually never thought of it like that.”

“You haven’t?” It’s his turn to be surprised, blinking at you for a couple moments. “I had just assumed—” he gestures. “Honestly, I immediately wondered if that was why your mother insisted on history for your degree.”

“My mother just didn’t want me to study fashion.” That clarification is something that still nudges you, but it is what it is at this point. “Scott convinced her that they should pull my tuition payments if I studied something impractical. I picked history because I couldn’t stomach the idea of giving up on art altogether.”

“My mistake.” Javi does try to see the good in everyone, a terminal condition he’s afraid. “At least they didn’t want you to go the Finance route.” He huffs, threading his fingers through yours and bringing your knuckles up for a kiss.

"It's not a mistake, love. I just didn't notice the connection before."

Javi hums softly, watching you look out the window as you reconcile that.

When you seem to have digested at least a percentage of those thoughts for now, you look back to Javi with soft eyes. "Can I take you to our favorite place after lunch?"

“Absolutely.” He agrees with the quickest nod. “I want to see that.”

"It's a museum," you clarify, although you don't have to. "A living history museum of a little whaling village where the employees dress in period costume and teach you about different parts of life in a village in the mid-1800s."

“Oh!” His eyes light up. “That is amazing. I – would love to see that.”

"It's a really neat place. They used to have car shows every summer when I was a kid, too. Antique cars and fire engines." His enthusiasm is always infectious, but today in particular, it's soothing as well.

“Oh wow.” That piques his interest. “I used to have a few cars that would be considered classics, but unfortunately American cars were hard to get.” He could have imported them, but he hadn’t tried for some reason.

"You want to build your collection again, don't you?" You ask, smiling at your husband's wide eyes. "Thats why you wanted the oversized garage."

“What? No.” He chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Maybe a few cars?” He offers. “Nothing drastic. Not like the hanger of cars I had before.”

"As long as we have something that is safe and practical once we have kids." That's your bargain. Your only actual concern. What Javi does with his high earnings is up to him, especially because you're already more than comfortable even before his movie paychecks.

“I think we should get the G-Wagon for the kids.” He tells you. “It’s more reliable than a Range Rover.”

"Then we'll do a test drive when the time comes," you agree. "Once we decide we're ready and want to start trying."

“Or we can buy one now and get you used to driving it.” He offers with a grin and a small shrug. “When you don’t want to take the Porsche.”

"Test drive first?" Tempering Javi's excitement is sometimes a full-time job, but you don't mind. Not when it involves things like getting excited about your future together.

“Of course.” He agrees, nodding because he knows he can shower you with another gift. He loves giving you things. It’s how he shows you he cares.

"Agreed." You're both smiling when the pizza comes, something which happened so often in this restaurant when you were a kid that it only seems right for it to happen now. Hopefully this trip helps Javi. If not, you'll try again with a new destination. But so far it's helping you more than you thought possible.

The pizza smells amazing and he’s just happy to be here. Watching your eyes light up with happy memories of your father. Pizza should be a scene. Something to invoke those flashbacks. He bites his lip and makes a note of it.

"The trick," you tell him as the pizza gives off steam in front of you. "Is to add chili flake. It's good on its own, but I know you like spicy food as much as I do."

“Show me.” Javi is never shy about requesting to see what you mean and he’s grabbing the shaker of red chili flakes and holding it out to you.

Pulling off a slice for each of you, you dust them both with a healthy but not overwhelming amount of chili flakes, making sure to leave the rest of the pizza untouched in case he likes it better without.

“American pizza, from a movie famous place.” He’s had plenty of pizza before, he loves it, but this is special. He lifts up his slice when you do and smiles. “Thank you.”

"Of course." His smiles really do light up every room, and you beam it back at him in turn. "I'd do anything for you, mi amor. Taking you out for pizza is the least of it."

“You do so much more for me than just that.” He insists but then he’s diving into the slice with a hungry eagerness. Groaning when the taste hits him and he rolls his eyes in pleasure.

"Good?" You ask, although it's obvious from his face that he likes it.

“Amazing.” He takes another bite and wiggles slightly in his seat with his own little happy dance.

And that is how you and Javi end up eating a chili-flake-covered lunch at Mystic Pizza before heading out to Mystic Seaport. You can only laugh when he observes how half the businesses in town seem to be named after the town somehow, because he’s right. Even your hotel is the Inn at Mystic.

******

“This was just what I needed.” He throws himself back on the bed and sighs happily. He had left his laptop back in L.A., wanting to unplug, but his notebook is full of ideas and little snippets to include in the script. He rolls his head to the side. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” There’s one more surprise for him tonight, but right now you’re just glad to see him light and bright and smiling again. So much so that you open your arms to welcome him into your side without hesitation.

Javi moves closer, always eager to get closer to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in as he does. “You always know exactly what I need.”

"You take such good care of me," you remind him, even though he knows that very well. "I try to repay that kindness and love any time I can."

“I don’t do half of what I want to.” He promises, burrowing into your neck happily and kissing your pulse.

That makes you hum a little, and laugh along with it. "You'd go crazy if I said you could, wouldn't you?"

“Nooooooo.” He huffs, pouting slightly against your skin and answering in a tone that means the complete opposites. He absolutely would if you let him.

"Mmhmm," you giggle, tilting your head a little to give him more access but leaning in to nip at his jawline all the same. "Sure, baby."

He groans softly, shuddering at the pressure of your teeth. He loves when you are just as touchy and affectionate with him as he craves.

"I love you, baby." Murmured into his skin it's almost like a prayer, and you love the way he gravitates in toward you like a magnetic force is pulling him.

“I love you too.” It’s almost crazy how much he loves you. As if he is obsessed. He can’t even fathom how someone could have this, love like this and turn away from it. You shuffle closer and press against him, making him immediately think of touching you.

His hand finds your hip and squeezes, making you hum softly, and you lean into his touch without hesitation. "You were right..." Dragging your lips across his skin when you whisper into it makes both of you shiver. "These little getaways are fun."

“How is it for you?” He asks, even as he kisses your shoulder. “Being here?” He knows that you left on bad terms and he hopes that one day he can show you his home, knowing the turmoil would be the same for him as it has to be for you.

"It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would," you admit, with your face still buried in his neck. "I guess it's been long enough that I'm sort of numb to a lot. Bringing you is...it's bringing the good back."

“Good.” He murmurs softly, his hand sliding up to your back to rub it gently. “I want you to lean on me if you need to.” He’s learned that he’s responsible enough to be that person, especially for you.

"I know I can. And I do." Unlearning the idea that your emotions – and existence – are a burden to your love ones has taken a while, but to make your marriage a healthy one you would do a hell of a lot harder things.

“I like it.” He admits softly. “That you can count on me.” He smiles against your skin. You snuggle closer and sigh as your hands slowly slide up and down his arms and back.

One of your hands slips under his shirt, savoring the touch of bare skin to bare skin, and you tip your chin back to be able to kiss him softly. "You're better than my sweetest dreams, amor. In every way."

He can feel the shift. The silent question you won’t voice but that you need answering. He hums, tilting his head down to meet your lips. The air growing thicker between you in those few seconds.

Javi is the best man you have ever known in your life. Period. There is no debating that for you. But it always seems to surprise you when he reminds you that he feels the same way about you. The fact that you are soulmates has knit you together so well that you wonder how you didn't just imagine each other into being. And it permeates everything – even the charge of sexual tension that comes in like a heavy fog to surround you. You're allowed to want him – your lover, your husband, your soulmate. But it still takes you by surprise sometimes and you gasp into his kiss as the feeling takes you over again.

You are his drug, his addiction. His want and need poured into you until he fears that he is obsessed. He’s aware that he has obsessive tendencies, well aware, but this is deeper. His fingers turn coaxing, sliding under your clothes as you respond to him with an enthusiasm that makes his blood sing.

His hands, disarmingly broad like the rest of him, begin a slow exploration of your skin that has nothing to do with the fact that he has every inch of you memorized. It’s coaxing and exposing, and your own needs mirror his exquisitely. The only difference for tonight is that when you peel away his clothes, he’ll be bare. But when he peels away yours, he’ll find the gorgeous little lingerie set you bought to surprise him with.

Javi loves worshiping you. Loves pressing kisses to your skin and whispering words of affection and desire to you. Always wanting to make you feel like you are the most precious thing he has, because you are. “Hermosa.” He murmurs softly, unbuttoning your pants and pulling your shirt out of it.

“Mi vida…” your answer comes on a sigh, and you shift on the bed ever so slightly to make it easier for him to start to undress you.

Fabric is peeled away. Javi finds it incredibly ironic that you love making clothes, dressing yourself, but he loves you best when you are stripped down and wearing nothing but the smile he adores.

His hands still when he finally gets your first layer discarded on the floor, finally taking a moment to drink in the dark crimson lace lingerie set you’ve been hiding under your clothes all day.

“Amor.” His eyes are greedy, so greedy as he stares at you. “You wore this for me?”

“Of course I did.” You’d excused yourself to the surprisingly spacious bathroom in first class on the plane and swapped your comfy cotton underwear for something more appealing just before landing. “I thought it was romantic. We’ve been married two months this weekend.” Which is nothing in the broad scheme of things, but you love every second spent with him and intend to celebrate.

He doesn’t know how he missed you putting this on this morning, but he’s smirking slightly as he imagines taking it off. “Two months.” He hums. “That deserves celebrating.”

“It absolutely does.” You could not agree more.

Javi memorizes this moment, the way you look up at him and he lunges down to kiss you. Letting his passion for you take over as he does.

There is a reason you hadn’t planned on doing anything on your first night of your weekend away. This was your plan. A night of forgetting the world exists while you make love to your soulmate. Could you do this anywhere? Of course. But treating Javi as the most special person in your life is a standard because he is exactly that. He has been the perfect husband in so many ways so you strive to be the perfect wife in return, and in holding yourself to those high standards you’re building something incredible together.

Now it is time to admire his gift and the only way to do that is up close. Javi’s mouth trails over the lace and silk, hands touching what his lips don’t. Whispering praises and promises in equal measure.

It's heaven, to be alone and to be indulgent with him. To be Javi's sole focus is to be the center of the universe. To be the only thing that matters in the world. It is to be worshipped, plain and simple.

He loves the skimpy, sexy little lingerie, but he enjoys ripping it off of you. “Oops.” He huffs, grinning because he’s not really sorry.

"And that," you huff, tongue firmly in cheek even as you sigh over his hands on you. "Is why I will never buy expensive lingerie."

“Is that why?” He runs his nose up your sternum. “But I really like ripping the expensive things.”

“Oh do you?” Your breath flutters along with your racing heartbeat as he drags his tongue along your skin and nips at the places he knows are most sensitive.

“I do.” He chuckles, making it sound like he is repeating his vows again.

The warmth of his breath against your skin makes you hum, and you rake your fingers through his curls to make him look up at you again. "I do too, mi amor."

He knows what you mean and his face flushes with pure pride in knowing that you chose him. Not just because of the universe saying you belong together, but because you want him.

The softness of the moment doesn’t dampen the heat, only morphing it into something with a deeper meaning, and you nudge your nose against his to steal a kiss. “You know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, right?”

"I know that my life wasn't complete until I found you." He hums, his hands slowly reaching for yours and tangling his fingers with yours.

"Neither was mine." His hand is easy to bring to your lips, but you lean up to kiss him immediately afterward.

You take his breath away. Javi squeezes your hand as he shifts up, pressing down onto you and then he untangles his hand to push under your back and pull you closer.

When every shred of clothing is pulled away and he finally slides inside you, it feels like coming home. Your legs hitched up over his hips to hold at his waist keep him just as close as his arms do and every breath you take mingles together to become a panting sigh with every thrust and roll of hips.

Making love is his passion, his purpose. His reason for drawing this breath. Feeling connected in the most intimate way and bursting with love.

No time spent showing each other the depth of your love and devotion could ever be anything but bliss. So many nights are given over to that dedication that some of your friends have probably made sly comments about it, but you and Javi never give up the opportunity to pour your hearts and bodies into fully dedicating time to lovemaking. To worshipping each other. To proving entirely that the heart you carry on this earth belongs to each other.

“I love you.” The reverence in his words is almost mocked by the sharp snap of his hips. Desperation for you to come apart making his thrusts faster, harder. Giving you the pace that seems to drive you wild. “Fuck, I love you.”

Vows and praise echo between you, chasing that perfect release, until the moment you tumble over the edge together. The force of your orgasm brings him right along with you, leaving the two of you wrapped around each other still murmuring words of love in the afterglow.

Javi loves laying with you, just like this. Both of you sweaty and satiated, his mind drifting to the future. “I think we should start trying for a baby after the movie premiers.” He murmurs softly, stroking your arm gently as you listen to his heartbeat slow.

“That will be…” Trying to do math in your head is a little tricky when he’s just pushed all the logic out of your head, but you hum while you think. “The movie is coming out for Valentine’s Day. We could be pregnant by our first anniversary.”

“How do you feel about that?” He asks. “Too soon?” He’s worried that he’s pushing, but he’s also completely obsessed with starting your family together.

“Amor, if I hadn’t just designed a fitted silk gown for the premier, I would say the wait is too long.” You turn your head to be able to look at him fully and punctuate it with a resounding kiss. “Good thing I have plenty of time to design something else if I want to.”

“That’s why I said after the premier.” He promises, unwilling to compromise even a little about the both of you wearing a creation of your imagination to a telling of his own. It was symbolic balance in his mind.

“We can start trying a little before.” Now that he’s opened the lid on this particular can of worms, you’re excited to dream about it. “Even if I were a few months pregnant for the premiere, it would be okay.”

“Why don’t we start trying when filming ends?” He suggests. “That way it will be a little closer to the premier and you won’t have to worry about fitting into your dress?”

You bite your lip, suddenly giddy at the thought even though you know there is a whole other section of filming to be done before then. Months more of work that can't happen just yet. It's a long process but it's so, so wonderfully worth it. "Yes. That's perfect."

He looks just as equally excited and he swallows slightly, eyes suddenly suspiciously moist. “Perfect.”

Leaning up to kiss him, you don't stop trailing your lips gently across his face until you've kissed away the moisture from under his eyes well. "I'm so grateful for you, mi amor. Every day and in every possible way."

“I want to make you proud.” He murmurs. “Everyday. I want you to be proud that I am your soulmate.”

"I am proud of you." And that feeling grows every day, as remarkable as it is. "And I always will be. Just like I'll be proud to walk the red carpet with you, carry your baby, do silly little errands with you, and anything else we could ever think to do together."

******

Saturday, June 7, 2025

“Where today, amor?” Javi asks as he scoops some eggs into his fork. The diner is close to the hotel, a place you said you worked when you were in high school.

"We could walk around downtown today if you want to?" The French toast is still every bit as good as you remember it being, and so is the coffee. It's actually nice to revisit a few places, since there are still some good memories here. "Or go to the aquarium? Whichever we don't do today can be tomorrow's plan."

"What would be your perfect day?" He asks, brows up as he considers the options. "When you were younger? If you could plan a day to be as selfish as you could be and indulge in what you wanted?"

"That's what I do now." Across the table, you put your hand over his and squeeze gently, making your rings wink in the yellowed diner light. "I get my nails done with my best friend, we eat whatever we like, and have amazing jobs." He looks at your doubtfully, making the smirk bloom on your lips. "But, if we're talking about high school me? I would comb through the used books in the basement of Lavelle Books, get a frappe from Drawbridge, and...probably go walk around Mystic River Park."

“Books?” He perks up at that. Since writing screenplays, he has become a voracious reader as well. Culling ideas and images from the words better than any movie ever could. “Then that is what we will do.”

“I didn’t think you would mind the bookstore.” Javi is almost as avid a reader as you are, and the bookshelves in the little house are full to bursting. Somehow you don’t think you’ll have trouble filling the shelves of a full library when the big house is finished.

“Not at all.” He agrees. “How is your French Toast?” He asks, knowing that you had been happy to see your favorite breakfast special was still available.

“Just as good as I remember.” Nostalgia can be like that, but you still grin happily and motion toward his plate. “What do you think of your omelet?”

“It’s good.” He nods and smirks before he takes another bite. “Though it’s not as good as those you made two weeks ago.” He praises. “Those were amazing.”

“You like every breakfast better when it comes after sex,” you tease.

“What can I say?” He winks at you as the waitress walks towards you with the coffee pot. “Food tastes better when your pussy lingers on my tongue.”

“Javi!” Your hiss his name and swat playfully at his hand, but the waitress didn’t hear him. It’s just your cheeks burning with affectionate embarrassment when she gets close enough to refill your cups and drop off the check.

He laughs, grinning at you while your fluster. “Tell me I’m wrong?” He asks after thank the lady with a nod of his head and a quick flash of a polite smile.

“If I did, that would be a lie,” you point out, snatching the bill away to pay it yourself. “And I never lie to you.”

He huffs at you, frowning slightly when you pull your card out of your purse. “Use the credit card, amor.” He chides. “That is what it is for.” He shakes his head, slightly amused because he’s never met a woman so unwilling to spend his money in all his life.

“I want to treat my soulmate in my hometown,” you insist. “This was part of my dream when I was little too.”

He grunts, sure that you are making that up, but he doesn’t argue with you. “Fine.”

“Yeah,” you smirk, always ready to pay him a compliment. “You definitely are a fine looking man.”

He rolls his eyes, but there is a hint of a pull to his lips as he lifts his coffee cup.

After you finish your last cups of coffee, you decide to leave the rental car in the lot nearby where you parked it and walk, heading through town toward your old favourite bookstore which sits at the mouth of the boardwalk. It actually is a cute little town when you look at it through the eyes of a tourist and you're glad you decided to bring Javi here. The chance to clear his head and to put some distance between you and the bad memories of your hometown is worth it.

There is something almost idyllic about strolling through a small town with your hand folded into his. Charming in its simplicity and comforting in the small smiles and nods of acknowledgement from residents as you pass by. Shops are open, welcoming. Eye catching displays making both of you pause as you make your way past.

The trip to your favorite bookstore ends in needing to purchase a canvas bag so you can carry the heavy load of new-to-you books, but Javi happily shoulders the weight and takes your hand again while you head off down the boardwalk again — explaining as you go that a frappe is just a kind of milkshake and it’s not some earth-shattering new sweet that he’s been missing out on his whole life.

“So we could make this at home?” He asks, tilting his head as he tries to understand beyond just the memory attached to it.

“Absolutely.” The ice cream shop is in sight, and you point out the bustling storefront to him. “I’m pretty sure I can get malted powder on the internet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in a store and that’s the secret ingredient.”

“Malted powder?” Now he frowns as he looks over you. “Like Whoppers?” He loves American candies and would have them shipped over for this movie theatre candy hoard.

You giggle, delighted that he made the connection but also at the adorable look of confusion on his face. “Yup.”

“Interesting.” He hums, smiling at your obvious happiness. “You have never shown me any food or drink that you love that I have not adored.” He reminds you. “I am sure I will be obsessed.”

“You’re going to love it.” It’s not exactly a difficult prediction, considering how much he loves sweets. But you’re more than comfortable in the assumption that you’re going to be ordering malted powder to be delivered to the house in California for when you get home.

“I suppose you are buying this too?” He asks with a hint of amusement in his voice. He’s gonna let you do whatever you want, but you hadn’t even let him buy the book at the store. This weekend apparently is completely your treat.

“Yes, I am.” It’s ice cream. Even at your brokest, this splurge would be reasonable. At the door to the ice cream shop, you turn around to kiss him. “And since you’re being so good about indulging me this weekend, I promise that whatever your next whim is for a treat or a splurge, I won’t make a single comment about it.”

“Not one little word?” His brows shoot up and he’s grinning. Knowing that you would at least pout at him.

“Pinky promise,” you swear, holding out your little finger to him.

He looks at it and then back at you before he hooks his finger with yours and chuckles. “Good.”

Inside Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream, Javi lights up with the size of the menu and the bustle of families alone tends enjoying the weekend. Your arms are slung around each other’s waists to keep close and you tick your hand into the back pocket of his jeans, reveling in the weathered material and the fact that he chose to pack one of the shirts you made for him to wear today. There’s a nice hit of nostalgia here too, and you point out one or two people you used to know to him discreetly as you wait in line.

“You went on a date with him?” Javi frowns slightly, not even realizing that his grip on your waist tightens slightly, possessively. As if this one date wonder could someone steal you away from him.

“Once, amor.” Even though you’d just said it, you still punctuate the fact that you’d only gone on one date with this particular boy the one time. “We went to a movie and he talked through the whole thing. In the theater.”

"A crime." He nods sagely, as if that told him everything he needed to know about that particular man. "It is good you did not waste anymore time on such a man."

“See?” You grin and kiss his cheek. “You get it.”

He’s placated and grumbles slightly, feeling foolish for being so annoyed by this previous date.

“I’m sure there are plenty of women in your past I would be much more jealous of.” But only because you love him, and because you wish you had had so many more years with him.

"None of them hold a candle to you." Not even Gabriela, as much as that would surprise anyone who had known about the torch he had carried for her for years. It pales in comparison to what he feels for you.

“And none of mine hold a candle to you, either.” They never could, and you cuddle into his side happily.

“So what is your milkshake going to be?” He asks, looking at the positively dizzying array of options. “Remind me.”

“Chocolate peanut butter with malted powder.” It isn’t worth reminding him that they’re called frappes here, although he did seem entertained by the word earlier. “It’s my old standard.”

“That sounds good.” He agrees. “But they have a one that tastes like bacon?” His eyes widen as he rereads the description.

“The American obsession with bacon knows no bounds,” you grin. “Are you going to try it?”

“Salted caramel, bacon and malted powder.” He grunts and shrugs. “Why not?”

Your grin grows. “Can we trade tastes? It does sound good.”

"Absolutely." He answers with a grin of his own. "I want to taste what you would crave when you were suffering from your period."

“That is a long list,” you admit, laughing at the thought. “I wonder if it will be similar to anything I crave when I’m pregnant? I have no idea if that is how that works or not.”

“It would be fun to create a list and compare.” He suggests, beaming at the thought of pregnancy cravings. “Keep a tally and see if it’s changes as you get farther along.”

“We’ll have to make a list,” you decide. “And keep track. A column for each baby, if there is more than one.”

“Yes.” There might not be more than one, but he has a feeling that there would be.

When the two of you finally make it to the front of the line, you place your order with the teenager there and thank her as she goes to make it, then step down to the register only to find another familiar face waiting for you — your former next door neighbor is wearing a shiny pin that reads Manager and smiling in a way that is both so broad and so tight that it makes you cringe inwardly with how fake it is.

Javi feels you stiffen, turning his head to glance at you and he recognizes the fake smile you use on the most difficult of guests. There’s only one explanation for it, so he turns to the person at the register and smiles broadly. “I have heard nothing but good things about this place.” He gushes. “Excited to try the frappe.”

“I’m surprised you’ve heard anything about this place.” She says with a layer of false pep.

“It’s good to see you, too, Gillian,” you lie.

Someone you know. Javi squeezes your hip gently, a reminder that he is with you. A steady shoulder for you to lean on if you need. Obviously not your mother, but someone old enough to be your parent. You had grown up knowing her. “She has been looking forward to another one of this all morning.” Javi adds.

“Has she?” Gillian’s eyebrows raise is as imperious as ever.

“Yes, I have.” Matter of fact and mildly pleasant is where you keep your tone, and you hand over your debit card.

“Oh, Gutierrez, how exotic.” She pretends to fawn after inspecting your card unnecessarily. “When did that happen?” Not that it’s any of her business. Not that she cares beyond obtaining gossip.

“A few months.” The expression you shoot Javi is apologetic. “Javi, Gillian was my next door neighbor growing up. Gillian, this is my husband, Javi.”

Javi’s smile stiffens at her reaction to his last name. Not unused to the slight. He nods to her when she looks up, judgement in her eyes and he wants to scoff at the audacity of it all. “Sweetheart, don’t use your debit card.” He tells you smoothly. “Fraud happens all the time, especially at point of sale locations.” The implication is just as light as it can be, but it’s still there. “Use your other card.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Your eyes tick up to his and you smile but it’s a reassuring thing. You’re always going to be on his side, especially when he’s responding to a petty veiled insult with one of his own. You slip your debit card back into your wallet out of sight and come out with your black AmEx card instead.

Gillian’s eyes widen and she takes the card quickly, insulted but she can’t say much. “This is rare.” She hums.

There are so many backhanded replies you could make. Insults about how it’s not rare in your circles. How you’re sure someone else must have paid with a credit card before. But as cross as you are with her for being a casual racist, you’re not trying to start a fight. “Oh?” You settle for, with an innocent tone. ��My soulmate takes such good care of me.”

“Soulmate?” That startles her, making her nearly drop the card as her eyes dart back and forth between you and Javi.

“Soulmate.” You smile again and it’s full of polite ice. There’s no reason to ask what she’s up to or how she is. You wouldn’t have cared even if she hadn’t been rude. Gillian is not only your former neighbor, she’s your former bully.

“Well, that’s...nice.” It’s also unexpected since your parents had always contended you didn’t have a soulmate. She runs the card quickly and hands it back. “Your order will be up shortly.”

"Thanks." There is no more small talk, no false pleasantries. You simply shift down the counter after tucking your card back in your wallet and lean into Javi's side as you wait for your name to be called.

“That was…unpleasant.” Javi murmurs to you softly. “But I am proud of you. You handled her with grace, more than she deserves.”

"You just met my childhood bully," you mumble under your breath, disguising it by leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Gillian lived next door when I was growing up. Our parents were friends, so we were forced to spend a lot of time together."

Javi blinks, startled and he looks back and forth between the two of you several times. “No.” He huffs. “There is—” he shakes his head adamantly, “no way the two of you are close in age.” He looks back over at her. “She looks older than me.”

You barely manage to stop yourself from snorting. "I guess being a heinous bitch makes you ugly on the outside as well as the inside. Eventually, anyway."

“Is that why you are so gorgeous?” He coos, leaning in and kissing you softly on the cheek. He’s aware that he can’t make out would you - this is a family establishment - but anyone who sees the two of you would see a man desperately in love.

"Such flattery," you huff, nudging him as if to deny it, except that he finds your cheek burning with pleased embarrassment when he kisses it. "I love you, too."

The machines make a lot of noise, but within minutes two frappes appear and Gillian has vanished into the back. Javi picks them up, adding straws and an extra shake of chocolate sprinkles just because before bringing you your drink.

"Shall we walk?" The urge to get out of your beloved ice cream shop is disappointing but very real. "Promenade on the boardwalk like your film characters would do?"

“Show me exactly what you would do on a date.” He grins, nodding as he offers you his hand.

It's a good walk, out to the end of the boardwalk about back, and you take it slow. Peaking into shop windows, looking out at boats on the water. Joking about what you would name a boat if you ever got one. You trade sips of your drinks – both are good, but you each like the flavor you ordered better than the other – and sigh happily in the sun. It's a beautiful, warm, and the unpleasantness of running into Gillian is forgotten in no time.

“Would you ever want to live here again?” Javi asks, watching as you crane your neck to check out something that is apparently different in the small town. “It reminds me of Hollowstone.” He tells you. “From Gilmore Girls.”

"Stars Hollow?" You grin at him and nuzzle into his side. "No, I don't think so. I mean yes it is like that, but I love California. And besides, our house is being built as we speak. I wouldn't want to give that up for the world."

“You wouldn’t have to.” He promises. “Just- if you wanted to have a place here, I wouldn’t be upset about it.”

"If we ever had a second house...a vacation house or whatever? I wouldn't want it to be here." There are too many bad memories. Too much negativity even on beautiful and relatively peaceful days like this one. "If we had to pick between your first home and my first home? I would much rather have a place in Mallorca so you can go home again whenever you miss it."

He’s initially surprised by your answer but then he realizes he shouldn’t be. You continually put his happiness in front of your own, as he does the same with you. It sometimes causes frustrations but he bites his lip as he smiles. “Perhaps one day.” He decides. “We would have to have a boat.” He tells you with a grin. “It’s a must.”

"Well then, we would have to name the boat, too." Right now it's just a dream. An idle one, granted, but one you enjoy. The thought of bringing your kids back to their father's home in the summer sounds magical. You can practically see them playing on the beach and chasing a stray dog through the spray. Stray...or maybe yours...who knows. "What would you name a boat, amor?"

“Happiest Ever After.” He hums as he looks over at you. “Because that is what it would be.”

“And yet you don’t want to let me name our son after you.” Even as you tut slightly, you still smile up at him with soft eyes. “It’s a very sweet idea.”

“Javi Jr. is a horrible name.” He huffs, but he’s secretly pleased that you would want to have your son carry his name completely.

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes at him and grin. “Javiera for a girl.”

He rolls his eyes and blows a raspberry at you before he finishes his drink and steers you towards a trash can to throw the empty cup away.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You decide, and smother his face in kisses to prove how delightful you fund the concession.

“You know you have final say on the names anyway.” His own father had demanded his mother name him Antonio, and see how that worked out? She had pushed him out, so she had named him. Javi didn’t see anything wrong with that thinking at all.

“I’d prefer us to agree,” you tell him honestly, linking your arm through his when you start walking again. “We’re both going to be their parents.”

“Yes we are.” He agrees, “but you grow them. That gives you a slight advantage.”

"Perhaps." You shrug. "But only slight."

He grins, shrugging slightly. “Then you should know I want to name our son Carmelo.” He teases.

It wouldn't be your first choice, but for all you know it's the name of some dear childhood friend or a beloved uncle, so you just nod. "We'll put it on the list. By the time I'm actually pregnant we'll have a list a mile long."

Javi laughed, shaking his head. “No, we will have already picked out four names for boys and girls.” He predicts.

"Only four each?" His specificity brings a smile to your face, making you laugh a little and you shrug your shoulders. "Maybe so. Who knows. We have quite a lot of time before the premiere."

“First and middle names.” He adds.

"First and middle." You laugh all over again and drag him over to the nearest bench, taking the opportunity of an empty place to sit to cuddle into Javi's side in a new setting. From here, you can look out over the water and people watch as well as boat watch. You're quite for a long time before you lean your head against his shoulder and sigh. "I always like the name Lila."

“Lila.” He smiles softly as he tries the name out on his tongue. “I like that.” He agrees. “It’s soft, sweet, like our little girl will be.”

"Maybe." A peace settles over both of you and you hug him a little tighter. "Hopefully."

The water is soothing, like it always is, although there’s a coolness to the wind that isn’t present at home. He hums and tugs you closer. “What else do you want to do today, sweetheart?” He asks.

“I don’t care,” you hum. “As long as you’re here, we can just sit here all night and it would be perfect for me. We can do whatever will help you most in writing your script.”

“What would be a good restaurant for dinner after a day date like this?” He asks. “For a couple that doesn’t want it to end?”

“There are a couple of oysters bars in town, and I read on the plane about some new Italian places.” When he raises an eyebrow at you, you grin sheepishly. “There’s an incredible place an hour away, but I don’t know if you want to go all the way to Rhode Island to eat the same seafood you would get here.” An hour in California is nothing. It’s peanuts. It’s your daily commute to work, in fact. But out here in New England, an hour each way is a day trip.

“And would it impress you if your date suggested it?” He asks, already deciding to write a scene just like this for the screenplay.

“Yes…” You squint at him suspiciously. “But there are oysters bars in town. Just because there’s also a good one out by the beach in Rhode Island doesn’t mean we have to go there.”

“And there is a jukebox in this oyster bar?” He asks. “Maybe a dance floor?”

That makes your expression crack, and you go from wary to endeared instantly. “They have live music on the weekends if you sit on the rooftop. And yes, some people dance.”

“And I’m assuming this oyster bar is also on the water?” He guesses, winking at you. “So after the perfect day together, learning everything they can about each other and falling a little bit in love, they go to this oyster bar and eat, have a drink or two and then slow dance to something incredibly romantic playing through an old corner jukebox?”

“It’s beautifully romantic.” Somehow he manages to do this regularly — taking things that are very nice on their own and turning them into the most romantic sounding thing you’ve ever heard. This restaurant your family used to like to go out to for special occasions is now the perfect date night destination with almost no effort whatsoever. “It will be the perfect scene.”

“Only if there is a kiss during the dance.” He murmurs, staring into your eyes and wondering how he got so damn lucky with you.

“I can guarantee it.” Here. There. Anywhere in the world. If the girl in his script is you and the boy she falls in love with is anything like him? She’d be a fool not to kiss him.

“Then we should flesh out the scene.” He hums. “See this perfect romantic spot for their first kiss.”

“Back to the rental car, then?” You won’t let this moment pass without kissing him, though, and that sweet little bench by the boardwalk is momentarily your perfect romantic spot.

Javi smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. The salt air just adds to the romance of the moment and there’s a moment where he swears his heart skips a beat with the easy joy of being with you.

The stern sound of a throat clearing is what breaks you out of your paradise and forces you back to earth, but only momentarily. You have every intention of telling the prudish busybody to fuck off so you can go back to making out with your husband — but the curse dies on your tongue when you open your eyes to find a familiar figure looming over your fairy tale bench.

“Hi Mom.”

Javi’s eyes widen, head turning to see the woman you are addressing with more than a little concern. He had understood you didn’t want to see your parents and apparently they have tracked you down or run into you by a cruel kind of happenstance. “Your mother?”

“My mother.”

The disbelief in her expression is matched only by her disapproval, and she opens her mouth once before shutting it again to recompose herself and then trying again. “Tell me why I had to find out you were visiting town from Gillian MacCauly instead of from my own daughter.” She demands. It is not a request or a question in any way.

“Gillian married Andy MacCauly?” You cringe slightly and look back at Javi. “So that’s why she’s miserable.”

“Also a horrible person.” He nods in understanding before he looks over at your mother. “Because she did not wish for you to know she was here.” He answers for you.

Your mother’s eyes bug and she looks positively gob smacked, but you shrug. “I wanted to show my husband my hometown. Not be treated to a guilt trip and verbal abuse. So I didn’t call.”

Her eyes flicker down to your left hand, mouth opening slightly at the impressive ring set on your finger. Making Javi extremely proud that he had chosen the rings that he wanted to give you. “She said you had married.” She frowns, apparently not even remembering your courtesy call.

“I did call the day of the wedding,” you remind her. “We had a soulmate ceremony so there wasn’t loads of planning or bunches of guests. Apparently your own husband elected not to tell you?” Or she forgot, which is equally likely. If her golden child isn’t involved, she doesn’t care much.

She frowns at the criticism and huffs. “Don’t talk about your father that way.”

"My father died when I was a kid." Still seated on the bench, tangled up in Javi and bolstered by his presence, you feel brave. "I never should have started calling your husband Dad, but I was a scared kid. Not a problem I have anymore."

Her mouth drops open and she practically sputters in disbelief that you would be so brazenly disrespectful. “He raised you, cared for you.” She hisses. “He is the only reason we survived.”

“If that’s true,” which you doubt, for various reasons. The first of which being that you remember hearing talk about a life insurance policy way back when you were too young to understand what that meant. “Then good. But while he may have helped raise me, he has never loved me.“ And neither has she. Not since he came along.

He can feel how you are tense, hates that this has ruined a beautiful moment, but he’s proud of you for not backing down from her. His hand strokes your arm, but he doesn’t say anything yet.

“He loved you.” She protests. “You make things so difficult.”

“Maybe I do.” Feeling uncannily calm on the outside despite how hard your heart is beating in this moment of finally standing up to your mother, you simply shrug one shoulder. “Maybe I’ve always been a bad kid and I didn’t realize it. Maybe you were right to favor Tony. But I’m done wondering and I’m done worrying.”

Her brow furrows at she opens her mouth to speak but Javi decides that it’s time to say something. “I could never imagine choosing someone - even a lover - over my child.” He tells her quietly. “Even if I was lonely and had lost my soulmate.” He looks at you tenderly. “She is the last connection to your soulmate you have, and you abandoned her for a man who obviously has contempt for that.” He looks at her. “Shame on you. The man your daughter has described would be ashamed of his other half.”

“I think it’s probably time for us to go, don’t you?” You ask Javi, not even bothering to consult your mother in the decision. It isn’t hers to make and even on the longest odds in the world she would only invite you to dinner to talk down to you.

Your mother, for her part, looks stricken by Javi’s words. Like he had slapped her. “I agree, amor.” He murmurs softly, standing and reaching for your hand to help you up.

“By the way?” It’s a striking realization, that you’re taller than your mother now. She always seemed so intimidating in the past. “Billie told me why Auntie Kay stopped talking to you. So don’t pretend to be blindsided by the idea that you mistreated me.”

Javi curls his arm around your waist protectively and glances back at your mother one more time. “Do not call her unless you wish to apologize.” He tells her. “And then, it will be up to her if she accepts.” He doesn’t wait for her to answer, just guides you away.

Leaving your mother standing, flabbergasted, in the middle of the boardwalk as you walk away in the arms of your soulmate with your head held high and your heart hammering makes you feel like a superhero. There was no screaming. No fighting. No physical altercation. No scene was made. You were calm and you stood your ground, and as Javi guides you back toward the parked rental car you clutch his hand in relief as much as your own shock. “Now that,” you whisper with wide eyes, “is something I wish I had done in high school.”

“How are you feeling?” Javi knows he was nothing but a riot of emotions when he had completely broken ties with his family, as horrible as they were. Even now, he sometimes feels guilty about Lucas, although he knows he deserves it.

“I’m not sure?” You admit. You might laugh or cry or shake apart at a moment’s notice. Either way, you hold to him like a lifeline. “I’ll set the gps for the restaurant but would you mind driving?”

“Do you still want to go?” He asks seriously. Even though it had seemed like a wonderful idea, you might not be so sure now and that’s okay with him. Even if you just wanted to go back to the hotel, he would be ready to take you. “Completely your call, sweetheart.”

“Honestly?” You sag against his side. “At this point I almost think we check out of the hotel here and go spend the rest of the weekend in Rhode Island. But I think that’s just my instinct to flee the scene.”

“If it will protect your peace, that’s exactly what we will do.” He promises.

In looking up at him, you smother an embarrassed sigh. “I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Baby, nothing you can ever do would ruin my trip.” He stops and turns towards you, his eyes seriously focused on yours. “Because I’m with you.” He murmurs softly. “And that is all I need.”

“I’m sorry.” Still rattled from the encounter, you’re sure you’re shaking a little with his hands on your arms. “I just…I guess I figured the town was big enough that we wouldn’t actually see my parents. I really didn’t expect this…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” His lips are in your hair, pressing a kiss to your brow. “Why don’t we go back to the room and order room service? Or delivery. Whatever you want.”

“That’s a less dramatic response.” He’s right. You don’t need to flee. You just need to be safe with your partner and try to let out some of the tension that is clinging to you. “Maybe we can use the jacuzzi and order a bottle of wine? Just try to relax.”

“I’ll order two bottles.” He promises with a smile and a kiss for your lips.

“I love you.” For better or for worse. You had promised it in your vows, and Javi is more than living up to his side of the bargain.

“I love you too.” He knows how to get back to the hotel, so he guides you towards the passenger seat. “We will order some wine, and see what they have in their menu. Maybe an appetizer or something? Then we can decide what else sounds good.”

"That sounds perfect." Though you would prefer to curl into his side, you tuck yourself into the passenger seat and buckle in, then pull out your phone to send Billie and Auntie Kay a quick text in the group chat that the three of you share. They deserve to know that some heat might fly their way, though you don't really expect your mother to do anything but bluster and play the victim.

“Your town is beautiful.” He tells you as he starts the car and backs out of the parking spot. “So many places to get lost in. Seek refuge.”

"I wanted you to see the best parts of it," you murmur, tucking your phone away as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Only the best."

“The best part about this trip is watching you enjoy things that you would have when you lived here.” He admits.

"We should go to the aquarium tomorrow, then." It was your other childhood favourite, and right now you just want to remember something nice and push away the bitter taste in your mouth.

“Then let’s go.” He tosses you an encouraging smile. “I want to see if there are different species here on the east coast.”

"Probably." And when you're out of the car again, you will smother him in ample kisses in thanks for being so sweet about the whole thing. "I guess we'll have to go and find out."

“We will.” He agrees, winking at you when he comes to a stop sign. “Does this aquarium have a tunnel?” He asks.

"Of course," you gasp, clutching invisible pearls and pretending to be aghast that he would even ask.

“Good.” He chuckles and nods. “Then we will have to make out in it and pretend we are mermaids.”

"Perfect." Laughing feels so good. Like such a relief. And it's purely thanks to Javi.

“Thought you would like that idea.” He’s happy you laughed, needing to hear it after watching you with your mother.

"I love all of your ideas." Even when they're over the top. Even when they're a little crazy. Everything is still always wonderful in the end.

He pulls into the parking lot and grins. “So then let me suggest something else tomorrow after the aquarium?”

"Whatever you want, baby," you promise him, grateful that the hotel isn't far from downtown.

“Why don’t we find a place for a couple’s massage?” He asks.

"Spa afternoon?" Tilting your head at him, your obvious interest is rewarded with a kiss before you both climb out of the car. "That sounds beautiful, actually."

“Good.” He grins when you almost instantly agree. “Fluffy robes, champagne, saunas and massages.” He winks again. “We will feel like new people.”

"We'll sleep like babies all the way back home." Your overnight flight was already aimed at being relaxing, now it would be even more so.

“Yes we would.” He agrees. “The perfect ending to our weekend adventure.”

“I’m sorry the whole thing wasn’t perfect.” He’ll tut at that, but it’s true. This afternoon and this evening are not the fairy tale that the rest of the trip has been. “But thank you for standing up for me.”

“I will always stand up for you.” He knows you will also stand up for him, but after being powerless against Lucas for so long, he will not be silent when someone he loves is hurt, never again will someone rob you of your peace. He has changed and he likes to believe it’s for the better.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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