#but for the record for everyone who might interact with me—though I was married to a woman I have also kissed boys

[everydayesterday]

I hated that things might have ended with vitriol on either side. thank you for writing back. take care.

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu - Part 2

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: NSFW, virgin reader, cunnilingus, consensual and penetrative sex, couple uses protection (you do too), mentions of past accident, workplace politics allusions, mentions of getting stalked and periods.

Word Count: 6.1k

Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI! Minors DNI!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

It's been half an hour since your arrival to the party and the lack of interaction between you and Mingyu starts to raise some brows.

Mingyu stays rooted to the same place, his eyes fixated on you as he realises that it was wrong of him to totally wring you out and knowing your temperament he's not brave enough yet to place himself in the periphery of your vision.

"The marriage is really a sham, afterall."

Mingyu scoffs, not bothering to look at the source of the voice.

Kim Hanjun has been demoted under the obvious reason of underperforming and it's boiling his blood having to work under Mingyu because being a man with connections and boasting about it openly would have eventually come to bite him back given he's not even good at his job.

"Your wife isn't even interested in you it seems."

Fisting his hands, Mingyu decides to mute out his words.

"Oh so you're not gonna speak because you might accidentally spill something?"

But there's a limit to how much one can endure. Even though he has the patience of a saint, Mingyu just can't tolerate this obnoxious colleague of him.

Just as he opens his mouth to retort, he feels a hand circling his arm. It's you.

"You must be Kim Hanjun?", you say with a poker face, "You're quite the infamous one around here."

Both the men are caught off-guard by your presence.

"Now if you could excuse us.", your grip tightens on your husband, "I have some making up to do, as you can see husband's upset is at me for not spanning attention to him."

Hanjun is rendered speechless when you step forward and say in a dangerously low tone, "If I see you pestering my husband one more time, you might not find your company ID working while swiping."

The man is suddenly sweating and you cross over your arms with a smirk, "I usually don't interfere but sorry to break it to you, if we come down to this, I'd like you to always remember what position my uncle holds in the company. You're not the only one who can exert connections."

Mingyu looks at you in awe. He wants to record this on his phone so that he could watch this again and again. His wife is standing up for him and that's the absolute hottest you've looked.

Once Hanjun leaves, you also turn on your heels to do so but Mingyu doesn't let you.

"I'm tired.", you say turning to look at him, hand trying to scuffle out of his strong grip, "I'm leaving."

"We're leaving.", Mingyu says leading the way, hands still held together.

While it's a sight for others to finally see the couple, might be romantic to some as well by the way Mingyu is not letting go of you but you know the truth so does your husband.

The car ride back home is silent because halfway neither of you speak and for the rest of the path, you somehow fall asleep.

You wake up in Mingyu's arm as he carries you to the bedroom.

"Let me down.", you say tiredly.

But your husband only sets you down on the bed and once he does he starts spilling the apologies.

"I was mad at you and thought you won't come if I asked you.", he says lowering his gaze, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay.", you say not meeting his gaze either and fumbling your fingers, "You should tell me if any of my behaviour has hurt or is bothering you. I can't read minds, Mingyu."

There's a pang in his chest as guilt consumes him. His mind lingers back on how he had been ignoring you for the past few days. And now that he looks at you, he realises the chronic tiredness ghosting over your features.

"Now if you could please move so that I can get changed.", you say, hands gesturing the way out.

Mingyu swears he hasn't had a drop of alcohol present in his body at the moment so why is he all of a sudden, seeing and feeling things differently?

Why are you glowing in the poorly lit room? Since when did you have such deep beautiful pair of eyes? How are your lips looking so luscious?

Mingyu loosens the tie round his neck, clearing his throat. As he has been crouching, he stands up and sides himself so that you would get out of sight because somehow though it's chilly but by doing absolutely nothing you've managed to heat him up.

You walk upto the closet and after searching for a while you turn around to look at your husband.

"Can I wear something of yours?", you ask, leaning against the door, "I think all of my comfortable nightwears have ended up in the laundry."

The man chokes, he wonders if the stars are plotting against him tonight. He settles with a subtle nod, looking everywhere but at you.

You mumble a thanks and grab the first thing that looks comfortable, going into the bathroom to change.

Mingyu rushes out of the room grabbing a pair of clothes and proceeds to wash himself in the guest bathroom just to cool off. He watches his red tinted cheeks in the dazed vision in the mirror, notices his heavy breaths and eyes down to the semi grown tent in his pants.

Something's wrong with him. He can't comprehend his state. His mind lingers back to the moments when you were defending him against Hanjun. His heart beats erratically when he remembers the accidental view of your cleavage through the dress when he was carrying you inside. The slit of your dress wasn't helpful at all as he could see your trained thighs on display everytime you moved. And your long manicured nails, he's sure that they would look beautiful running through his nape and back.

Mingyu slaps himself twice on both the cheeks, he takes a cold shower.

But he's just a man afterall, so when sees you standing in front of the dressing table in his shirt and shorts he breath hitches and he gasps. Loud enough to catch your attention. As you look at him, he looks at your collarbones peaking out because his shirt is too loose on you.

And before you could say anything he's already laying on the bed hurriedly facing away, pulling over the covers to hide the re-emerging boner.

You follow his actions, laying beside him but facing his back. You wonder if you should sleep at the guestroom because your husband is still mad at you. And his actions are clearly saying so as the person who can't sleep without hugging is maintaining the distance, not bothering to even face you, like he has been doing for the past days.

With a heavy sigh, you tell him, "I'll sleep in the guestroom. We can talk when you feel like you can bear to look at me again."

Just as you turn on your back to get up, you're being held back and within a span of seconds your husband is hovering on top of you.

"I'm sorry, I can't control myself anymore."

And admitting that he crashes his lips onto yours. You gasp grabbing his arms before sighing into the kiss. Mingyu sucks onto your lips pacing them slower now. His hand roams up to rest on your neck, gently rubbing along the column, the sensation of his touch eliciting another gasp out of you.

His tongue enters your mouth and it's lewd in the way they slotting perfectly on each other. His mouth descends to press kisses on your chin and collarbones.

The one time he detaches his mouth off you to unbotton your (his) shirt, you're tapping on his forearm. His gaze follows your hands which are now covering your eyes.

There's a bit of silence. Mingyu wonders if he's forcing himself on you, without your consent and with the thought just as he prepares himself to get off, you say something that wracks his head.

"This will be my first time. I've never been touched before.", you say shakily, evidently embarassed enough to not uncover your eyes until Mingyu does so.

Though Mingyu has his mind too clouded to be pondering over anything but the first question he asks with those eyes now turned soft, after urging you to look at him is, "Do you want to do this? Is it okay for me to proceed? Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Please don't stop.", you breathe out immediately averting your gaze which causes you to miss the smile your husband directs at you before placing his hand under your head to raise it swiftly to kiss you.

"I'll make it worth, Y/N. I'll make you feel good.", he whispers in between the kisses.

You lay naked, all bared out under him as after spanning enough attention to your boobs, Mingyu shifts all his focus on your wet, leaking core.

"Gonna prep you first", he says in his husky voice, "and let me know if you want me to stop."

His tongue laps a long stripe against your cunt and you grip the sheet underneath desperately to hold onto. He keeps tonguing your cunt, holding your legs apart as they try to close off, his nose bumping against your clit making it impossible to hold your moans anymore.

You are squirming under the mercy of yoYir husband and his tongue. There's a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach and you could do nothing, not even speak out any coherent sentences.

"Cum for me, Y/N.", Mingyu urges you and that's the push you need before pouring out the juices all over his face. You're catching breathes when sensitivity hits you as your husband licks you clean off the juices.

You are biting down on your arm when Mingyu decides to prep you a bit further by scissoring his long fingers in your hole until it's oozing out for the second time.

Mingyu presses a soft kiss on your forehead before scurrying away for a few seconds and coming back holding a bunch of condoms in his hands.

"You had those?", you ask propping yourself on your elbows, genuinely amused.

Mingyu cocks his brow, "Not sure who it was but one of the guys has kept them in the drawer at one of the times they visited."

He climbs on the bed, straddling over you as he tears the wrapper with his teeth and rolls up a couple of condoms up his girth, "I didn't even know until all of them sent the same picture in the group chat."

You nod in silence, looking at his big veiny cock and it's red tip that's leaking precum, wondering if it's gonna even fit inside of you.

Mingyu hovers over you, pressing another soft kiss on your forehead.

"It's gonna hurt a bit at start but it's gonna feel good, okay?"

You nod again letting Mingyu hold your hands over your head, intertwining the fingers. He slowly pushes his length and sensing your ragged breathing he stills for sometime before continuing until he hilts all the way inside.

Tears roll down, as you try to adjust and your husband does nothing but kiss you softly trying to soothe you, divert your mind from the pain.

"Let me know when you want me to move."

He waits patiently and once you ask him to move, he thrusts ever so slowly, his lips never leaving yours.

"Gyu, faster please.", you say breaking the kiss.

And who is your husband to deny your wishes. He picks up his pace steadily thrusting in and out, as both of your moans fill the room.

Mingyu fiddles with your nipples by taking them into his mouth while his fingers rub your clit at a fast pace.

You're too dumbified by the way your body is reacting. Your legs are shaking, your stomach is pitting a knot again, your hands are gripping onto your husband for dear life and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Y/N?", Mingyu calls you out, seeing your dazed vision, "Are you okay?"

Your reply comes as another moan as your nails dig crescent shapes onto his back deeper, running through the back of his neck, grabbing onto the hair on the nape.

"Can you hold on for a bit more?", he coaxes you once he realises your gummy walls are clenching harder around his cock, "Let's cum together, can you do that for me right?"

Mingyu looks at the juncture where the bodies are meeting, where your cunt is swallowing him wholly. He groans at the sight of white foamy ring around his cock and kisses you hard making you squeak into his mouth.

"Let it go, Y/N.", he encourages you, his calloused fingers now rubbing your sides as his thrusts turn sloppy, "Cum for me."

Both of you are catching breathes. You lay eyes closed, not feeling your body at all. Mingyu lies looking at you, admiration laced in his eyes, his heart doing dibs thinking about how you trusted him enough to give your firsts to him. He realises that unlike him, you're not vocal so he has to focus on your body language to understand your needs. He also makes his mind to have a conversation with you like a descent person in the morning but before that--

"You need to pee.", he tells discarding the condom in the bin and while you groan he continues, "And we need to wash up. I'll run the bath, clean us up and change the sheets so please don't fall asleep till then."

You are incapable of registering his words so you just let him do whatever he wants to do with you.

Late in the morning, the conversation gets shelved until evening because Mingyu fucks you again because he is insatiable and so are you. Well, you both end up being each other's breakfast in bed.

It's the day, you dread the most. It was the same day sixteen years ago when you lost your family. It's your birthday.

If only you hadn't thrown a tantrum about not wanting to celebrate the day at home as it had been done for all the years. Birthdays had always been a great deal to you. You wanted the celebration to be a bit grander which led all to unanimously decide to go the soaring picnic spot, inviting all your friends as well. Uncle being your favourite person, the rest of the family drove the to venue as it was an hour drive away a little earlier to set up things while you and your uncle drove in a van along with all your friends.

But instead of the picnic spot, you ended up in the hospital with your uncle identifying the bodies. The collision of two vehicles were severe enough to claim the lives of all present in them.

Though your uncle had never expressed anything as such but you know you are to blame for everything. You wondered if seeing you was even bearable to him. The guilt and regret changed you whole as a person. After the incident you distanced yourself from everything, everyone.

Birthdays mean nothing to you now. Unlike for other workers, no one receives your birthday mail as you have requested to the officials. No one knows, no one asks, no one cares and that's perfect for you.

It's been a long day, with you driving successive review and checkpoint meetings. One of the rare days where you want nothing but to fall to the comfort of your bed.

Just as you enter the house, you see a string a shoes lined one after another. You enter the hallway and come across the faces of your in-laws, your husband, his friends and your uncle.

Gatherings on any other day is always welcomed but not today. You have this look of disapproval on your face and the entire flock of people freeze. Without a word, you disappear into your room and it's about half an hour when you don't come out, Mingyu assures everyone and goes into the room.

"What are they doing here?", you ask as soon as he enters.

"Why? Are they not allowed to visit us?"

You glare at him, "They are. But why today? And you always inform me beforehand if anyone is coming so why's there an exception today?"

Mingyu sighs but walks upto you, "Y/N, they're just here to spend sometime with us. But if you want then I'll tell them to leave and trust me they'll leave instantly."

"Tell them to leave then. I don't want to entertain anyone today.", you say stoicly.

Mingyu nods, "All of them have brought something they've cooked for you. Hansol cooks occasionally and almost burnt his house but he came in so proud, bragging how he was able to cook something for you that's edible. And oh", he raises his finger plastered with a bandaid, "I've got a cut while chopping the vegetables. So are you gonna atleast eat them or should I tell them to take those back as well?"

There's a pang in your heart, it's constricts within your chest. Your eyes glistens with tears, the resolute within you starts to dissolve but you could never afford to do so. You don't deserve to be celebrated.

"It's the death anniversary of the people I love.", you say helplessly, "I don't remember them vividly, each year the memories of them are fading away. I can't bear to look at uncle without feeling guilty. He lost his son, his wife, his brother all because I wanted to celebrate a stupid birthday."

You are sobbing now and Mingyu holds you in his arms, letting his own tears fall. He hates that there's nothing he could provide to soothe you.

"There are so many words on the tip of my tongue but they're all meaningless.", he says and bites on his tongue to stop those tears from spilling, "I'm sorry but I won't let you wallow in sadness, I won't leave you all by yourself."

After staying quiet in his embrace, you tell him, "People are waiting for you, you should go. I'll be fine, I'm used to this."

Mingyu pulls away and holds your face gently, "Do you trust me?"

Your eyes say a lot, even if you hadn't given a nod, your husband would've known the answer.

"Then let's go and spend time with them.", Mingyu coaxes you, "They wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, if they do, I'll send them back."

You ponder over for sometime. Past years have always been the same, you wanting the day to pass by anyhow. You've preferred to be alone but you think you'd make an exception for your husband and all those people who are waiting for you outside knowing they genuinely care for you.

When you both step out of the room, you could see the worried faces and it makes you feel bad.

"We're are really sorry for barging in.", Seokmin breaks the silence as he stands up and following his suite everyone does so well, "We'll get going."

And there's a lot of shuffling. Everyone is off their seats and packing the stuffs when you decide to interrupt.

"I'm hungry", you say everyone halt, "And I'm bored of eating his cooking.", you point at your husband who gasp in offence but smiles nonetheless.

And that's how the dinner table was set with everyone sitting together eating and chatting happily. No one wishes you birthday, none of them have bought you gifts and it does seem like another normal gathering except for the subtle wishes of wellbeing they launch softly at you.

"You are beautiful, Y/N, inside out.", Minhee says as she secures the seat beside you, "I hope to see you healthy and beautiful always."

Sometime later, when the topic of work is brought up, Soonyoung slickly tells, "Y/N is handling such a big project.", and looking at you he speaks with a mouthful, "I know it'll be a huge success. Hope we get to see you achieve many more milestones in your career."

And throughout the dinner you recieve such praises and wishes from every single one of them. You didn't want to send them off but you had to with a heavy heart. First time, in several years you feel like you have a family, you want to hold onto people, want to expect certain things and be a part of them.

First time in several years, your birthday didn't haunt you rather it gave you a reason to smile.

Lying the bed, tired after a long day when you feel an arm drape around your waist, you turn to face your husband, snuggling closer in the comfort of his embrace when he opens his arms for you.

His eyes droop in sleepiness but he strokes your hair saying, "I wish you to be happy.", smiling sheepishly he adds, "Thanks for trusting me."

And when you watch your husband drift off to sleep, stroking his hair with a hesitant hand, you whisper, "Thanks for tolerating me."

Your relationship with Mingyu progresses steady but it's beautiful in it's own way. To you, Mingyu hasn't only been a good husband, he has been a great companion. He takes care of you, knows your limits and shortcomings, never makes you feel weirded out and makes sure to sort things out to be on the same page.

Your calendar previously which had only meeting dates marked on them are now filled with many more events such as your anniversary, Mingyu's birthday, Minhee's birthday, your uncle's birthday, your in-laws' anniversary etc etc. A smile appears on your face when you reminisce how late you were to your second anniversary party and how pissed Mingyu was at you, avoiding you the whole night until after the party was over and you had stripped yourself naked in front of him which worked to dissolve his anger as you let him fuck you dumb till the dawn.

You have a best friend now and her name is Minhee. You've always liked her and over the years you two have grown closer. Mingyu's friends, well more of yours, are not scared of you anymore, they've dropped all the formalities to pit long ago.

Junhui shares every funny thing he sees on the internet, on appointment days he rants to you about patients and work. Soonyoung now shares table with you during lunch and eat your ears off. Seokmin calls you randomly during work and if you don't pick up, he just sends you a candid picture of your husband with a caption 'thought you'd be missing him, so here's your husband. Don't thank me, just name one of your gaming character after me.'

Hansol is the most random of all, he just pings you any fact he learned out of the blue without any context. Sometimes when on asking when you confirm that you're free he sends you a bunch of pics telling you to choose the best among the lot. Jeonghan is the quietest among all, he'd only talk to you during the gatherings.

You have started calling Mingyu's parents as what Mingyu calls them because you are comfortable to call them so. They've blended into your life making you feel as their own. These changes in your life have helped you bond better with your uncle as well.

It's been over two years and you think you're happy. You think your married life is perfect and you're in love with certain things.

You love the back hugs, love those forehead kisses, love the smell of coffee that hits the house in the morning, love the way his mouth opens and closes in sleep, love when the fangs graze his lips as he smiles wide, love when his hand sneaks to wrap around yours on a busy road.

You're in love.

In love with your husband because how could you not, he's so easy to love. Though you feel there's still a lot you both need to discover about each other, you hope he'd also love you one day. He's your first love after all.

You are in the middle of a meeting when your phone keeps vibrating continuously. Trying to ignore it, your brows knit in agitation but that soon turns into worry when you check the caller ID. It's Minhee. Excusing yourself, you call her back.

And now after a drive of an hour you find yourself in front of the park, near her apartment.

"It's okay, I'm here now.", you say patting on Minhee's back, "Once you feel better, tell me everything."

And after some moments Minhee does relay everything. There's a thug-like guy who has started visiting the café she regulars at because somehow Minhee has piqued his interest. Even though she didn't notice at first, it started to strike her that she has been seeing a face almost everywhere she visits.

He has been following her to and back from the school she teaches in. He's been bold enough to get in the way and ask her to sleep with him for a night, if she wants to stop getting bothered by him.

Minhee has had enough to slap him straight across his face, even threatening to report him to the police. And that seemed to work because he didn't appear before her for a whole week until today.

As she describes it terrified, he had an ominous gaze, when he had given her an ultimatum to be compliant or be ready for the worse.

"I was so shocked and scared. I could only think about calling you. If Gyu knows about this he'd kill that guy even before police knows about him and would never let me work here. I don't want that.", Minhee says, "I am planning to go to the police today."

"You're so brave", you tell her as your gaze sweeps across the surrounding, "Let's deal with that guy now. Is it that guy standing over there?"

And Minhee now ponders over if it would have been safer to call her brother because the stalker guy, all bruised from the beating he got from you is kneeling in front of you both with hands up in air.

You've called the police and as soon as they arrive, that guy is mumbling confessions of all the harassment he did and tried to perform on Minhee.

"Did I tell you, I'm trained in taekwondo?", you ask her frowning, "Uncle also made me take specialization classes on self defence.", you suddenly hiss because of the bruises inflicted on you during the hassle and look at her.

Minhee engulfs you in a hug, "Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

Your lips curl up and you say pulling away, "Let's go to the station and complete the formalities and then we'll have to inform Mingyu and mom & dad as well."

Minhee hesitates but she knows she'll eventually have to so.

"Let's do that.", she agrees, "I have something else to tell you."

Your brows quirk up questioning as you both head towards your car.

"I have developed a liking towards Soonyoung.", she smiles looking at your flabbergasted demeanor, "No ones knows except you and him."

You swear, your head spins at this.

And as if she could read your mind, she adds, "I don't know how he feels but he said he'd never date me because I'm his friend's sister and that's against bro code."

You scoff, how typical of Soonyoung.

When Mingyu stumbles upon his sister's apartment that night, he finds her sleeping peacefully in her room. And when he goes searching for you, he finds you in the bathroom clutching the slab. Your eyes are red, forehead glistening with sweat.

"Oh god, Y/N...", Mingyu rushes inside as the door was open and holds you up on your feet, "what happened?"

"Stop shouting, you'll wake her up.", you say groaning, "and why do you care anyways?"

Right, you both rarely fought but when you did it would go on for days, like now. It started with a simple matter but escalated real quick causing Mingyu to lash out on you and give you a silent treatment. You tried to talk to him twice, which was more than you think you have done but were met with radio silence. He went as far as being petty enough to not even wait for you at dinner table or sleep facing you. And that's how you decided to shut him out as well. It's been a week since you both talked.

As Mingyu holds your waist to support you, you cry out in pain. You tried to resist but when he glares at you, you give up. He unbottons your top and his eyes almost gauze out on seeing the cut on your waist.

"How did it happen?", he sits you on the counter and pulls out the first aid box.

You stay quiet.

"Y/N, I'm asking something.", he uses an authoritative tone, looking at you.

"I thought we are not talking.", you snark at him but gasp when he dabs the cotton with antiseptic gel on the cut. He does several other sorts of things which makes you think he's a trained nurse before pasting the adhesive.

"Y/N, please.", he gets up and holds your face, "I know I have been an asshole and I'll keep apologizing to you until you forgive me. But please tell me are you hurt anywhere else? Did that bastard do this to you?"

You sigh and peel his hands off your face, "Yes, he was swinging his knife at me so while tackling him, I got that wound. And I got some bruises but Minhee treated those, didn't want to worry her so hid this one. You should be worried about Minhee. I'm fine."

Mingyu looks at you with so much admiration. His heart swells within his chest when he thinks about how you saved his sister and handled the situation well while he was being a jerk to you.

"The first thing Minhee asked on calling me was how did I manage to marry someone as amazing as you. That I should have seen you, you were looking like a superhero fighting off the evil.", he smiles pinching the bridge of your nose.

You bite your lower lip, your brows crease and Mingyu instantly deflates noticing the obvious signs.

"Are you on your periods?", he asks concerned.

"The cramps are killing me."

"You should have told me sooner.", he immediately lifts you up and takes you to the guestroom and lays you on the bed, "I think I know what all things Minhee uses for her cramps and where they are kept. I'll be back."

"I was supposed to sleep with Minhee tonight.", you say frowning.

"No, you're sleeping with me", he smiles, crouching to peck your forehead, "Minhee rotates around the bed all night in sleep. Doesn't matter though, I won't be letting you out of my sight."

And while he spends the whole night making sure you get a good sleep, in the morning he makes you apply for sick leave. He scolds Minhee for not calling him sooner as it could have been dangerous for you both but in turn gets scolded by you.

He doesn't take his car, rather drives your car back home because you were scheming on sending him away first, not wanting to go with him. He sulks throughout the way back because when he leans in to you, in the guise of helping you putting on the seatbelt just to give a kiss, you slap a hand over his mouth. But that doesn't stop him from not letting you go to your office room the whole day and spend the time in taking rest.

It's an important day for you. It's a success party of the new game launch and playing the key role in leading back to back projects you're going to get felicitated at the party by the director herself.

You have informed Mingyu beforehand and he has promised to reach the venue before time, also squealing for days on about how he'd capture everything and show others, that how proud he is of his wife.

Your eyes boringly scan through the crowd, waiting for your husband.

"How am I looking?", Soonyoung's voice startles you.

As he takes a seat beside you, you tell him, "As usual. Are you supposed to not look like a human but something else?"

He scowls, "Wow, you're really doing this to me."

He brings over a glass of wine from the waiter who was passing and says, "I heard there have been some changes in the management and they'll be announcing it today."

You take a candy from the bowl kept on the table, "I'll be reporting to someone who has joined the company recently. My previous boss is gonna take over the strategy planning unit."

Soonyoung laughs, "There are rumours about him being eccentric."

"Let him be anything, I don't care as long as it doesn't hinder my work.", you tell him, eating the candy and checking your phone, "They're gonna start soon. Any idea when your dear friend is gonna arrive?"

"He was supposed to leave from work early", he tells you, "Don't worry he's punctual."

Mingyu curses when he checks the time. He's late.

"Min, I think you should leave as soon as possible.", Seokmin says as he helps him pack his bag, "You'll go home, get changed and then leave for the venue, right? You're running late by almost an hour already."

Mingyu is hot on his heels as he hurriedly takes his bag and rushes out of his cabin.

"Be careful!", Seokmin yells seeing Mingyu's fleeting demeanor, knowing how clumsy he can be and as he takes the keys to lock the cabin as requested by his friend his gaze falls on the USB drive which he knows Mingyu would need to work on some presentation.

Seokmin rushes to catch him so that he can give him the USB just in time. As he punches out his employee card, he sighs in relief as he recognises Mingyu standing still just outside the main door.

He pushes through the door and is just about to call him, something catches his eyes from the periphery of vision.

Just like Mingyu, Seokmin freezes on spot.

Because it is Sora who's standing in front of them.

Seokmin doesn't know what or if they had any conversation prior to his arrival but he grabs Mingyu's arm when he sees Sora open her car door and his friend heading in the se direction.

"Min, don't go.", he speaks the next part in louder tone, "your wife is waiting for you."

"I know what I'm doing, Min.", Mingyu frees his arm, "Trust me on this."

Seokmin watches helplessly as the car drives off to who knows where.

You are dejected. Even when recieving the award your eyes kept scanning the crowd just in hopes of seeing your husband's face. And still now doing so you keep on checking your phone, too upset to call or text him.

"I'll call him after they make the announcement.", Soonyoung says equally upset, "I'm sure something really urgent came up otherwise he'd have not missed it."

Everyone is asked to stand near the stage where they announce the key changes in management.

You are shocked when you hear a certain name being announced, see a certain figure taking the centre of the stage.

Xu Minghao is going to be your boss tomorrow onwards.

Minghao seems to have taken notice of you as his smile widens, his gaze locking on you.

Soonyoung has noticed the change in your demeanor, has followed the gaze of Minghao. He observes quietly before motioning you to come with him to a quieter place.

He then calls Mingyu putting his phone on speaker who doesn't pick up. There's an uneasy feeling settling at your chest and hope that your husband is fine wherever he is.

Soonyoung then calls Seokmin and regrets putting the phone on speaker because you hear what he says.

"Mingyu left with Sora and I can't reach him."

Your heart sinks because even though no one has ever talked to you about her, you know that name very well. Your husband's ex girlfriend whom he to marry.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Both you and Soonyoong turn to see Minghao standing, his gentle gaze bestowing upon you.

You decide to forget any other thoughts and wear a tight lipped smile, "Been a long time, Hao."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[betaphannie]

Do you think dnp hardlaunch is coming ? If so in what way and when?

okay I’m back from work let’s do this you asked for it. 

a huuuge disclaimer ahead: I am NOTORIOUSLY terrible with predicting dan and phil antics. I refuted the idea that they would ever come out for years, I can't predict what video they’re uploading next or the time, and I literally refused to believe the two-flat theory until they confirmed it themselves. do not listen to me to be an actual valid source on understanding what they hell they’re planning ever (I was on tour hill while everyone else was on wedding hill though and I am proud of myself for that).

that being said, my opinion?. only if they got married. long version:

the one question that makes me doubt a hard launch the most is why would they feel the need to do it? ever since they came out, dnp have been very adamant that they do not want their relationship to be public knowledge for people to comment on and speculate about. it’s their private life, and their relationship is so special to them that they’d rather not risk it being negatively affected by outside attention. 

we see now that they are being more open to us and aren’t as hypervigilant about hiding it, and that seems to have made them a lot more relaxed about making videos together. however i wouldn’t say that they are comfortable flat-out confirming their relationship in a way that no one can deny. they know we know, we see it in how they interact with us now, and there is less of a wall between their audience and them. and I think they like it this way.

these past few months, whenever they talk about their audience now, they make it clear that they love the community they cultivated. this time, they aren’t lumped into the group of “british youtubers who are popular right now” and are finally realizing that their fanbase loves them for them. and I feel like where we are now is where they want to be. when dan says they have “no fucks given” anymore, yes you could interpret it as “we don’t care what the world thinks so we’re going to go public” or you could just as easily interpret it as “we don’t care what the world thinks so we don’t have to go public.” I don’t see what making their relationship clearly known to the world would be appealing to them. all the people they care about know they're together, so who cares about these strangers that haven’t cared about them since 2016?

sure, they might be able to use the word “partner” instead of “friend” in videos from time to time (though I’d argue that even that would have people debating if that counts as a hard launch), but honestly as someone who has been closeted for most of their life (yes, I’m projecting on to them again. cry about it.), when I was so used to calling someone my friend even when they were more than that, I didn’t really get that sad about it. being in the closet made me sadder than hiding a relationship, and even when I was open about it, it didn’t really make the relationship more “real” to me. the reality of the relationship is when you’re alone with the person, I always thought. it’s why I always wonder how long a relationship I see online is going to last when the people in it post only about their relationship 24/7. (besides, I don’t think that “friends” is a lesser way of describing what they are to each other. they are friends, and friendship isn’t inherently lesser than romantic aspects of a relationship.)

essentially, as I said up top, I don’t think they would hard launch their relationship unless they had to, which one of those scenarios would be them getting married, since marriage records are public in the uk. do I think they actually would get married? eh. they spent the majority of the last fifteen years with each other and built a house together, so you could argue that they practically already are. plus, the whole time during dab and evan’s (aka the sims they love projecting onto) wedding they talked about how awful it would be to plan one. obviously, you don’t have to have a wedding if you get married, but even then, it wouldn’t be until they came back from tour at the least. on the other hand, I think with all of phil’s medical emergencies they might lean more toward the idea. dan said himself in the mukbang that all the ER trips had them want to enjoy their lives more without worrying what people thought. I’m not sure how it works in the UK, but being married in the US certainly helps a lot when it comes to medical emergencies since your spouse is the first one they usually contact if you aren’t able to advocate for yourself, and of course the t a x  b e n e f i t s. (i feel like i heard someone say they have a joint bank account anyway, idk where and it was a long time ago and im not sure i believe it but just adding it here for consideration)

when would that realistically happen? you'd have more of an accurate answer if you picked a random date on the calender than asking me. dan and phil operate on a version of time that does not make sense to anyone but them. it could be two years or twenty. with how long its been taking for them to just get a dog I doubt it would be soon though. i don't know. there's been so many wild marriage theories over the years that the idea is almost a meme to me.

so yeah, congrats for spawning this wall of text. I don’t want this to come across as overly pessimistic or anything. by the way things have been going, who knows what dnp will do, especially not me (again, very bad at predicting!!!). I think they’ll continue to be disgustingly sweet toward each other and make me feel lonely as hell but they don’t have to post a kissing pic to do that, they can just as easily wreck me in other ways.

Not to sound like a YouTuber (sorry for using a slur 😔) but feel free to sound off at me if you also have Thots, dear reader. we are philosophers and tumblr is our school of athens.

[imaginespazzi]

Nivi, bestie – first of all, an update exactly a week later? I’m so proud and we’re so spoiled! It was the best thing to wake up to this morning (my morning 😅) so thank you for that!

Starting off strong with Stephie throwing Colleen under the bus when she didn’t even do anything wrong but be boring LMAO, I love this kid so much.

Azzi realising that her kid is also not immune to the Paige Bueckers charm, like mother like daughter.

I know Thalia’s so done with Paige lol, like she out there just doing her job and doing it well, and yet she’s stuck with her dumbass client (affectionate) whose personal life is perhaps just a little too complicated.

That one-year contract boutta create a fountain of angst huh?

Not Stephie hitting the gym and lifting them weights! A fictional 5-yr old is putting me to shame, you hate to see it 😩

But oh my god, it’s crazy how much she loves P already and vice versa. Although, at this point, I’m just as attached to Stephie as Paige is, blondie’s not special 😒

“I missed you,” Stephie confesses, “did you miss me?” – Like this??? I can’t handle their cuteness omg.

And our first Pazzi + Stephie scenes – PERFECTION.

What would we do without kids and their lack of filter? Stephie is gonna bring these two idiots back together, brick by brick, revelation by revelation, and one innocent, inquisitive question at a time.

I cackled at Paige being insecure of what Stephie might think about her ice cream order lmao, like girl stand up! And then finding out they both have the same favourite flavour? Yep, that’s it, Paige you ARE the other parent!

“So do you wanna be a boring old tree or do you wanna be a big, strong Husky who bleeds blue?” – Um, this is leading the witness, your honour! But like a very valid point was made cause who does wanna be a boring old tree?

OK well if y’all still think that the other is the prettiest, most beautiful of them all, well then now KISS.

A Tim and Paige interaction – we CHEERED (and cried a lil)! And baby Stephie and P! Not Tim just handing Stephie over and leaving them, he’s prolly like “well shit, this really should be your baby too anyway” 😭

Now this last bit, Nivi, imma just live in denial for a little while longer okay? Cause it was a diamond ring! I didn’t hear or read anything about a wedding band. And no, I will choose to ignore this person being called “wife”. Cause I’m not ready to accept the fact that P might have been married to anyone else other than Azzi! 😤

But then the revelation of Azzi saying no to marrying P? That was the real dagger 💔

What’s next?

Imma sound like a broken record and I’ll keep saying it but scenes with Stephie are just too precious. I LIVE for them and will continue to do so.

I can’t wait for when she finally gets to cheer for her two favourite players courtside. OH and imagine during a post-game presser with Azzi and Paige, and Azzi brings Stephie along and she immediately goes to sit on P’s lap instead of Azzi’s and they’re both just in their own little world while Azzi tries to actually answer the questions, and everyone in the media plus the public is absolutely eating. it. up.

Speaking of Stephie and P though, “And Paige would never willingly hurt Stephie…but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t break her heart any way.” Is this foreshadowing that I see here, Nivi? You’re already gonna make me suffer through potential Drew and Azzi angst and now we might have to go through Stephie and Paige angst too at some point??

On top of that, I just know the flashback to Azzi turning down marriage with P or however that played out is gonna be heartbreaking AF. It’s all just gonna be too much for my fragile little heart to handle (but I’m secretly gonna love all of it cause you know how much I love my angst).

The happy ending will make it all ok though. Side note: I’m getting too much ‘the 1’ undertones, and that makes me stress a lil, but I know you wouldn’t do that to us 😌

Oh and I guess we’re gonna find out more about the “wife” eventually… (Nivi: It’s- Us: For the plot 😭)

MOST IMPORTANTLY, I just thought about the moment Paige has to spell something in front of Stephie, pray for her 🙏

And lastly, these lyric/song choices, Nivi! You’re really taking us back huh. My favourite nostalgic writer for a reason.

Favourite line/quote:

Azzi has always been the brightest star, at least in Paige’s galaxy, and she can’t help but let the next words slip through her lips, “she still is.”

As always, thank you for sharing your talents, we don’t deserve you 🥹💗 Enjoy the rest of your week, bestie, catch you soon!

-🙋‍♀️

BESTIEEEE! Can you believe I actually did that lmao? But yeah I would not get used to daily Monday updates because we all know me and procrastination.

#FreeColleen cause not only does this poor woman have to deal with Paige and Azzi's bullshit for the second time, she's also being unfair antagonized by a five-year old

Thalia and Colleen are gonna needa go out for drinks at some point with the way their clients are behaving

I love how everyone caught the foreshadowing with the one-year contract tee hee <3

Paige and Stephie are the definition of it's not blood that makes a bond and I adore writing the two of them together

LMAO sorry for the shade Stanford but unfortunately this is a #BleedBlue household for life and it just felt very true to Paige

AH I'm glad you liked the Tim and Paige interaction cause I know that was one of your ideas and it felt right to add it in. He looked at Paige was like "wait a minute why am I taking care of *your* child" and just dipped fr

TRUST ME! It will all make sense eventually!

There will definitely be more Stephie like I doubt we'll ever have a completely Stephie-less chapter

THAT'S SO CUTE OH MY GOD. We have a little bit of a while before we get into the season but I'm totally stealing that cause I love watching press conferences with kids.

Well if she hurts Stephie's Mama...

I'm so excited to write that flashback, y'all don't even know like I actually do have a little bit of that planned out and mayhaps there's more to it than just marriage...guess you'll find out!

LMAO I've got y'all scared with all my "the 1" references. I was gonna use it as lyrics but I figure y'all might actually lose it before you read it if I did that.

AHAHAHA poor Paige is gonna learn to spell just for Stephie

Lowkey been listen to my Nostalgia playlist while writing because honestly the single parent x ex trope feels very rooted in that era so a lot of the lyrics probably will me from around that time.

As always thank you for making me smile by paying my inbox a vist. It's always a good day when I check and you're here <3

[thenightling]

Fred Saberhagen’s Dracula

I realize I’ve been posting a lot about vampires lately.  This is partly because of how much I disliked the new Interview with the vampire AMC+ series (Though the actors and acting are good. It’s the writing and showrunning I dislike).   And partly because I genuinely loved The Invitation as the best new Dracula movie I’ve seen in years.

In a comment in my Sandman Facebook group someone mentioned the book An Old Friend of The Family and did not seem aware that this was actually the third book of an on-going book series.   

As everyone has been talking about Anne Rice lately I would like to draw attention to an underrated vampire book series.   This is a book series that comes very close to being my favorite book series.   It might even be my favorite book series.  It’s nearly tied with Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.

Fantasy author Fred Saberhagen passed away in 2007.  My favorite books of his are a book series sometimes called “The New Dracula” or “The Dracula Sequence.”  Mostly today they’re just called Fred Saberhagen’s Dracula books.  And I love them.  I frankly think of them as the best vampire book series I’ve ever read.

1,   The Dracula Tape - The first book in the series was published BEFORE Interview with the vampire and features Dracula telling his side of the novel Dracula into a tape recorder.  It’s interesting and has some funny moments.  If you pay attention you can tell you’re dealing with an unreliable narrator.

 2.  The Holmes-Dracula File.  This was a Sherlock Holmes story that was supposed to have a surprise reveal about half-way through that the “Old man” character was actually Dracula however Fred Saberhagen’s publisher insisted on the title that gave away this plot twist.

3.   An Old Friend of the family.  The Southerlands (Direct descendants of Mina Harker) are in trouble.  After a murder and kidnapping the family is forced to use a magical invocation to call upon someone for help.  Someone that calls himself “An old friend of the family.”  Think of it as being like Taken but with Count Dracula as Liam Neeson.  This is my favorite of the series.  When I met Fred Saberhagen’s widow online she sent me a rare signed copy of this book which I use as the banner at the top of my Facebook page.  

4.   Thorn.  This one is not so great.  It’s one of those stories (like in The Sandman) to reveal that Dracula isn’t always nice and, in fact, was even abusive to one of his wives (He had two wives in his mortal life).  It’s partly set in the fifteenth century and partly set in the “present” (late seventies / early 80s).  You can skip it if you want.

5.  Dominion.  This one is one of the two in the series I do not like.  The only interesting thing about it is the interaction between Dracula and a homeless man that turns out to be THE Merlin from Arthurian legend.  Merlin doesn’t like him and that makes things a little fun.

6.  A Matter of Taste.  This is a return to form as it is has the same good qualities of An Old Friend of the Family.  This one is one of my favorites.  Johnny Southerland (who was rescued in An Old Friend of The Family) is getting married. And he feels his fiancé has the right to know that his family is protected / stalked by Count Dracula.  “Uncle Matt” (Drac) quips “Why? I’m not marrying her.”   Someone tricks Dracula into drinking poisoned blood. It won’t kill him but it will temporarily incapacitate him. So Johnny and the Southerlands must now protect their old friend from his enemies. There are two things I really like about this one.  1. Dracula’s work-around about not casting a reflection in mirrors. He won’t cast a reflection in a mirror but he DOES show up on camera so he replaced his home’s mirrors with flat screen televisions (this was 1990 so the technology was very new) and a hidden camera so he essentially invented what we today call Smart Mirrors. (Again, this was 1990.) 

I also really liked the origin Dracula is given in this novel. It’s sort of a non-origin.  As the historic Vlad the Impaler he was assassinated and his head was delivered to the Ottoman Sultan.  Well, in this version it was a look-a-like’s head given to the Sultan and loyalists took Dracula’s head and body for burial.  While preparing him the candles kept going out and the head appeared to be re-attaching to the neck as the wounds healed. This spooked the loyalists so they hastily buried him at a crossroads where he woke as a vampire some time later.  Dracula calls it a transition of will that he refused to die but in reality he doesn’t know how he became a vampire.  Most vampires in these books are made via a blood exchange. He is NOT the first vampire but he does eventually proclaim himself king of the vampires and (mostly) everyone just goes along with it.  

7.  A question of time. This is the only book in the series I actually hate.  Dracula is barely in it. It deals with time travel and the grand canyon and it effects nothing if you skip it.

8.  Séance for a vampire. We go back to the Victorian era for another Dracula / Sherlock crossover. Watson is forced to call on Dracula for help. He doesn’t like or trust Dracula. There’s a daring rescue from a carriage and some other great scenes.

9.  A Sharpness on the neck.  There are a few minor homophobic overtones in this one but I chock it up to the fact that Dracula is really an old man from the fifteenth century and this was written by an old man.  A headcanon excuse I have for it is Dracula hasn’t come to terms with his own sexuality.  If you read the earlier books he got REALLY attached to Joe Keogh, who married into the Southerland family.  And Drac stalks him in very much the same way he does the women of the family.  Yeah, I think he’s bi.

Anyway, in this book Dracula’s mortal-life brother Radu (also now a vampire) is holding a grudge against a family dating back to the French Revolution.  So Dracula (dragging the Southerland family along) uses this couple as bait to lure out his brother.

10.  A Coldness in the Blood.  This one is set in 2003.  Tensions are high between Dracula and The Southerlands who seem a little annoyed at all the chaos he’s brought into their lives.  In example- one of the younger members of the family was setting up “Uncle Matt’s” computer for The Internet when he may or may not have been psychically attacked by an Egyptian Crocodile God.   How do you get used to things like that?

There’s actually sweet reveal near the end where a very young member of the family reveals his middle name is “Vlad.”  (Aww, they do love him). There are also three short stories which can be found in the Saberhagen Vampire tales collection available on Amazon.  I wrote the introduction for it in 2019 but the link on the site credits the wrong Amanda Pike. Oh, well.

The stories entail  Box Number 50 - My personal favorite short story.  It deals with two orphan children who protect Dracula during the events of the original Dracula novel and how he repays them for the favor. From the Tree of Time - This is another Sherlock crossover. A drop of something special in the blood - About Bram Stoker encountering actual vampires. 

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

Tamed Seas - Poseidon x Reader

(A/N)

This is the very first post I’m making on this equally new account and also the very first time I am ever using a second person POV for the reader. Let me know your thoughts!

The following story is just for shits and giggles. I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Shinya Umemura and Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

Warning: Swearing from my disclaimer.

Tamed Seas

Poseidon x Reader

They were never allowed to stare.

If Poseidon never looked anyone in the eye, deeming them unworthy of even a simple gaze, then anyone other than himself were equally unworthy in looking at his wife.

Just before the meeting had started about a decision to be made on humanity’s fate, Poseidon had entered in his full regalia, his wife walking alongside him. Of course, such a prestigious couple deserved such a special entrance, as Hermes, per Zeus’ request too, played his violin most ceremoniously, a proud smirk on his face upon seeing the royal feet step perfectly on the red carpet he had immediately placed upon knowing of their arrival. Zeus’ older brother held a record of never attending meetings, much more any simple get-togethers unless they were of real utmost importance such as this one.

Shiva’s eyes grew at the sight of the couple. Even though Poseidon’s wife had originally been a mortal who had ascended to godhood, you were glowing and looked as ethereal as Aphrodite. Was he seeing things? He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. The last time he saw you was at the announcement of your wedding, then after the ceremony he never caught a glimpse of you ever again and only heard stories of your new and impressive conquests. Were you always this godlike?

As if reading his thoughts, he gulped upon finding himself at the receiving end of Poseidon’s cold and stoic stare. He shrugged his shoulders. Man, he had heard rumors of his sudden protectiveness towards his wife, but he never expected him to be this overly protective. He was merely trying to figure out if his wife was always glowing like this or not. Both figuratively and literally.

Alright, maybe he was checking you out a little bit.

Unlike the god of the seas, his wife greeted Zeus, and all the familiar gods with a warm smile. It had been ages since you had seen them all together, and the sight brought a sense of nostalgia to the days where you had first earned their favor, then their respect, and then their friendship. Although your story might not be as mighty (and as physically taxing) as Hercules’ was, you considered those ‘young’ days to also be one of your best apart from getting married to the man god who you had given your heart for and will continue to love and cherish for the rest of your life. Since you became Poseidon’s wife, you had not had much time to do leisure outside the palace, and correspondingly after heralding the title of ‘queen of the seas,’ you had taken it upon yourself to help your husband in matters concerning his own kingdom and the vast seas themselves.

“Master Zeus—” Zeus threw you a knowing look. “My apologies, Zeus, it’s such a pleasure to see you again!”

“Same here, little lady! Judging by the frequent calmness of the Atlantic Ocean, I trust you and my brother are faring along quite well?” The father of all gods chuckled, then wiggled his gray eyebrows. “Why, I must say, me and most of the other Olympians have been waiting for some new gods and goddesses to rule alongside us, if you know what I mean! Ehe he~”

Characteristic of your husband, Poseidon simply scoffed before muttering how gods such as themselves need not gossip. Blue eyes never left the Hindu god however, and unbeknownst to his wife, he lingered closer to you than usual whenever the both of you were in public.

This time, Shiva had had enough. He was sure he only looked at the direction of Poseidon’s wife only once, and admired you only once as well, yet he was being skewered by the god’s gaze for longer than what he had intentionally allowed. As if he had openly claimed you as his! He was the god of destruction for heaven’s sake, and would not allow this sacrilegious act, regardless of whoever he had to settle the score with. If it was with another prominent deity, then it would be a lot more fun. Golden eyes narrowed daringly, an equally challenging aura oozing from his form and startling the nearby gods.

“Lord Shiva, are you okay—”

“(Name). How many times do I have to repeat myself? You have no need to refer to other gods with honorifics.” Your attention whipped to your husband, who to your surprise, held a familiar, challenging stance. Unbeknownst to you but the other gods especially Aphrodite, Poseidon simply matched the challenge of the Hindu god. “You are the wife of the seas. All the other gods are beneath you, as they are beneath me as well.”

Upon hearing this, Shiva gripped his concrete armrests too greatly and it crumbled to dust under his strength. Pumped at where this interaction seemed to be heading−the thought of fighting, he stood up, arms on the ready to cause destruction. Despite being in the middle of the crowd and quite far away from the center of the stadium where the couple stood, he caught glimpse of the famous trident he would never be caught dead wielding. Now this was getting interesting!

“My rules are simple: you disrespect me, you die,” He pointed at Poseidon, which the latter found disgusting enough to scrunch up his nose.

“Should we put a stop to this, Lord Zeus?” Hermes asked behind a white gloved hand. Not exceeding any expectations, Zeus laughed after a stroke of his beard and clapped. He always was one to find entertainment in alike situations, especially after the fact that this was the only time, he and all the other gods had really felt Poseidon riled up. The expression on the god of the seas’ face remained calm but it was betrayed by the suffocating, dominating presence he emitted from where he stood.

“And after you die, your wife would become firsthand witness of realizing how your title betrays your strength,” Shiva stretched, but halfway through noticed Poseidon’s quick work of his trident. He took a stance and prepared for the parrying move.

Amidst the unexpected battle that was soon to happen, to everyone’s surprise, a whistling sound echoed along the tension-filled stadium. It was a tune most foreign to the gods, all except one. From your lips, a beautiful melody poured out as a soft gentle breeze seemed to have begun to blow. It was an old tune you had learned from one of your many lifetimes in the mortal world,

And the very same one you had sung to Poseidon that had sustained him in trying moments.

Poseidon came to a full stop, his muscles unmoving as he listened and slowly, put his trident down. What was he thinking? He should not have been swayed by a foolish taunt committed by a foolish god. He was perfection incarnate. His wife would never fall for a foolish antic, so why did he? Now he was both angry and confused with himself. How could he have allowed himself for even a moment, for others to see him angry over this? What even was this?

Without the need to look at you, relishing in your fine tunes reminded him of the initial catalyst to his reaction and an answer to his question. Whenever matters concerned his wife, his emotions, which he learned were out of his control, seemed to defy all rational logic, which, even at the very beginning of your courtship, bypassed his ego. Of course, despite these strong feelings, the one thing Poseidon had control over were his actions. Therefore, he had always had a grip on how he presented himself. Although it was still a slow progress to figuring out this foreign feeling with his wife, the only other being he deemed truly worthy to allow into his life, anyone else will never have a chance of being privy to this side of him−a sentiment that thankfully, his wife shared. Though he never admitted it, he was confused and left mulling over for some time when you had also told him before that you had meant a different thing.

“…Foolish. Gods have no need for wars, we are perfect beings ourselves. You are not the reason for my presence here and are not worthy of my time and attention.” Another long silence fell, finally broken by Poseidon, ignoring the mix of surprised and fearful stares. His legs started carrying him towards the direction of one of the high stage boxes in the stadium. “Come, (Name).”

Shiva, who had his fists out and ready to fight, blinked twice in confusion before grunting, scratching the back of his ear violently in frustration. “You Greek gods have always been boring! And here I thought I’d finally be able to cause some destruction again, this time in Valhalla…”

Other than the Hindu god himself, none would ever understand if he had riled up the Greek god on purpose for the sake of his own entertainment or, perhaps, for something more personal. Zeus, meanwhile, followed the sight of his older brother walking quietly alongside his wife. Aphrodite nodded her head in his direction, affirming his suspicions. He would never fully understand the concept of love, but hey, he did get the message that all would be damned if so much as a single hair went missing on (Name)’s hair. And it seems he was not alone in this thought, as despite Shiva’s aggressive taunting, he also managed to peak into the gravity of the god of seas’ feelings towards his wife.

After Shiva had been calmed down and more gods piled in along with the Valkyries, Zeus set his meeting in motion. From the stands, Poseidon and his wife occupied the two seats that closely resembled their thrones. Eagerly sitting beside the god, (Name) grinned. Every day she had to sit close to her husband or even at times on his lap, she always felt like her body fit snugly against his.

Blue eyes stared uninterested at the spectacle.

“Dearest?” Poseidon turned his head and met your gaze. Any dark smudges had disappeared beneath his eyes, and his mouth that was carved into a seemingly permanent frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve.

“Thank you.”

No more words needed to be said. Poseidon knew what you were thanking him for, and he responded by closing his eyes as though he was swallowing every ounce of serenity that emitted from you. And the taste was sweet…

Above the angry retaliation of the gods regarding the verdict of Ragnarok, Poseidon enjoyed an elusive peace. Even if it was just a simple moment like this, he set his features in calm lines and his shoulders sank−a truly rare sight, a special secret between himself and his wife.

“I don’t care about this. I am eager to go home.” Poseidon whispered under his breath.

A chuckle left his wife’s lips. “We’re going home soon, don’t fret.”

[nat-20s]

 Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references  we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour. 

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways. 

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

[stalksbyakuyatogami]

Could I have the V3 boys reacting to their GN!S/O successfully summoning the ghost of their long dead, but benevolent, ancestor to help them out (whether it be in the killing game or with something mandane in a non-despair AU is up to you)? Like, their S/O is finished, for a few seconds nothing happens and they then hear someone yell "WHO SUMMONED ME!?!" followed by them turning around to see a medival looking ghost.

Summoning An Ancestor With V3 Boys!

Let's have it in a killing game because it's low-key fun

fair warning: this might be a long read

Shuichi Saihara

•He thought at first that this was a kinda bad idea, but a good one at the same time. He never agreed to help you, but he's there to join you at least.

•You both quickly turned around. It was both unnerving and exciting that you managed to summon your ancestor.

•You were amazed that finally, you get to have some guidance.

•Shuichi however, was still terrified and his insides were trembling. He thinks that it's best to not quiver in front of such a powerful spirit.

•Shuichi keeps quiet the whole time you asked for advice. And said thank you when you two were leaving and saying farewell to the spirit. His way of acknowledging the spirit because he didn't even interact with it.

Kaito Momota

•You told him that you needed him for something since he told you that he'll help you with anything.

•You knew your boyfriend could never deal with things like ghosts, curses, and such. That's why you told him to come without telling him your agenda.

•So you lead him into the empty rooms on the third floor. He was wondering why there were such strange items on the floor. And he just got more suspicious when you were using them. His heart was now beating rapidly now that he hears you chanting. He wanted to leave so bad, but he wanted to get your permission first, in case it disrupted your ritual.

•He regained his composure when you finished chanting and nothing came out. Thank goodness no one came out. But that relief instantly went away when a booming voice echoed throughout the room, and a transparent body made its way up the ground. He fucking lost it and fainted. Good thing you caught him though.

•You did the negotiation on your own. Your ancestor was intrigued by the limp boy on your hands, and you explained what happened. Ancestor said they won't let their grandchild marry a man like that lmaoooooo.

Kokichi Ouma

•Was totally up for it. You can see the sparkles in his eyes. He even drags you to where you would hold your ritual. He's more excited than you are. It's gonna be his first time performing something like this. And seeing a spirit? So cool!

•While you worked, he asks all kinds of stuff. How you do it, how to use the materials, did you bring him to sacrifice him, even as far as dissing your ancestor. You told him to save the dissing when they actually appear.

•When the spirit did appear, he took time to scan everything about it before deciding to point out its flaws. He was low-key trembling, to be honest. Now it kinda looked like he was just boasting to show that he wasn't afraid that the spirit might curse him.

•He just stood there listening to all your ramblings towards the spirit. He didn't utter a single word, nor did he move an inch. He just had his eye focused on the spirit, assuring that it doesn't do anything suspicious. Good thing he made it until the end.

•As soon as you were finished, he made sure the spirit was gone and rushed back to his room. His farewell might sound jolly, but he's just gonna bury himself in his blanket and have hours of overthinking. Poor Kokichi.

Ryoma Hoshi

•He was actually pretty chill when you told him what you plan to do. He was okay with it. But he didn't really enjoy things like that, so he said he'll pass. But because you begged him to be with you, it can't be helped.

•He just stood there smoking while you arranged and performed everything necessary. Ryoma was a bit weirded put when you started chanting. You could summon a demon with that, you know (which is more or less the goal here).

•His jaw and cigarette both fell as the spirit came looming over you two. He couldn't believe his eyes. He doesn't know whether he'd stay or run. But he froze in place, that's for sure.

•You were conversing with your ancestor about everything. Ryoma thinks it's a good thing that you get guidance from your ancestors, but creepy at the same time. While you were at it, he slowly backed up and you didn't notice him going out of the room.

•You finished your session and went out of the room. Ryoma was nowhere to be seen. He was in his room. He told you that you did well, but the next time you do it, he doubts that he'll ever join you again.

Korekiyo Shuinguuji

•He was actually very very excited when you told him that you were gonna perform some kind of summoning. It was different from a seance, but he was still willing to help you. He didn't say no, and he even asked when you're gonna do it. He couldn't contain his excitement and immediately asked you to lead him to where you'd perform it.

•He helps you in arranging things. He even suggests methods that would make the spirit stay a little longer and summon the correct spirit. There was no one more helpful than Kiyo is. He's an expert in this after all.

•The spirit emerged a bit early than expected. And Kiyo was definitely amazed. He was gazing up your ancestor, admiration glossing his eyes. He's fighting the urge to say his catchphrase, honestly. He has all the thoughts in his mind. •While you were conversing, it looked like he was just standing there, but in reality, he's taking note of everything going on. How the spirit speaks, its mannerisms, and intrusive thoughts like what would happen if he disturbed your ritual. Would the spirit curse you two or something?

•He was muttering to himself by the time you finished. You approached him to ask him what's wrong. He held you by the shoulders and looked straight into your eyes saying that you two should do it again. Hell, he would even help you summon two or more of the spirits. You, of course, were encouraged since you were seeing more of your ancestors.

Rantaro Amami

•He thought you were joking at first and just lightly laughed it off but he stopped doing so when he realized that you were serious. He agreed to your plan or ritual or whatever it is. He guaranteed that he won't be that much of a help, but he's gonna do whatever you ask him to.

•You instructed him to prepare other materials which were simple to prepare. You did the other side of the tasks. He was very careful of handling these things because he thinks he might mess your ritual up.

•The spirit has emerged. It awed Rantaro in every way. How you managed to summon it, who they were, and overall how it came from just chants. Your ancestor noticed him and assumed that he was your boyfriend. The spirit then thought what everyone first thought of Rantaro. He definitely looks like a playboy and they were in doubt. But you reassured them that it was just his looks and not his attitude. Weirdly enough, your ancestor believed you.

•You sought out guidance, just like what you needed to do. Rantaro was just there supporting you, and even guiding you to ask something important about the killing game. Istg he's the most chill guy around. It sure is creepy, but he's also curious.

•By the time you finished, he'd tell you that you did a good job of staying rational and calm the whole session. He'd definitely accompany you the next time you do this again. He isn't terrified? Poggers!

Gonta Gokuhara

•Gonta is very very confused about... pretty much everything. What's ritual? Summoning?! Isn't that a bad thing? What if you summon bad spirit? Would not that be bad? After all of this, you guarantee Gonta that everything is gonna be fine because you pretty much knew how to do it. Gonta trusts you with his whole heart.

•He saw all the tools you had laid out and he inspected every one of them. He made sure not to touch anything though. Istg, he's very very anxious about all these. He asks you how you use all of these. It was actually confusing for him, but he promised to do his best despite not knowing how to do this.

•When the spirit arrived, he was startled to see it that he instinctively grabbed something invisible and threatened to hit the phantom. The phantom was surprised in return. He eventually apologized for startling them.

•While you were talking, he was listening attentively. He'd do anything to stop this killing game after all. He would even casually butt in to ask his own questions. He tried to not ask too much, avoiding making the spirit angry.

•When you two were finished, he even told you that he'd gladly accompany you when you do this kind of thing again. He was fascinated by the fact that you successfully summoned an ancestor. His eyes sparkled tbh.

K1-b0

•Summoning?! Big no! Not because he was afraid of ghosts or something of the sort, he's afraid of the curse it will unleash. But you told him many times that you would know how to handle it. You "would" wasn't enough for him, so you rephrased it. This time with an overflowing amount of assurance. He eventually agreed.

•He is familiar with all the things that you had laid out. He asked you if he was the sacrifice, and if that was the case, he'd never forgive you. You told him that robots can't be sacrificed, so he didn't have to worry. "That's robophobic!". Then what are you supposed to—

•When your ancestor emerged he was a bit terrified. The presence was new to him, and also the form. So he partially hid behind your back, to show fear and respect. He is so going to record this whole thing. It might help any research on paranormal areas, you know.

•He stood there proudly without even budging an inch. It was either out of fear, anxiety, or just plain formality because he doesn't know how to act around these entities. It's his first time facing one, after all. He made sure that as soon as the spirit causes you harm, he'll be there to defend you. Which was sweet of him.

•When you ended, he told you about how mind-blowing and bizarre the experience was. You felt the same as him since it was your first time too. He is a bit weirded out, but he will definitely accompany you again next time.

Please this took so long and i went fucking overboard. Thank you for requesting, anon!

-Mod Toko

[millllenniawrites]

gold rush (Poe Dameron x Reader)

part two of dear love of mine

words: 2.6k

warnings: reader has a last name; regency au for the aesthetic but it’s historically inaccurate for the *vibes*; afab!reader; slow burn; sexual themes throughout; eventual smut; pining; awkwardness and slight secondhand embarrassment possible; everyone is unreliable; warnings will be added as the series progresses

a/n: WE’RE FINALLY GETTING INTO THE STORY IM SO EXCITED also we get a lot more Poe in this chapter which I hope you guys like!! as always, if you wanna be added to the taglist, there’s a link in my bio :) 

__

You didn’t see General Dameron or Lord Barnes until dinner that night.

They’d been busy moving their things in. Two more carriages had arrived shortly after the men, but they were mostly carrying Lord Barnes’ staff. With the grandeur of his presence, you were surprised at how little his servants had to carry into your home.

It did make you happy to see that he was keeping those loyal to his father employed through the renovation of his home. You had discussed the very topic at length with Mister Kirk, who had informed you just how easily those servant jobs can be lost.

And how difficult it could be to regain them.

You couldn’t imagine not having your staff with you. Your Ladies Maid, Char, had been the only new edition to your household that you could remember since Siena had been born. You were one big family. They were paid, certainly, but family all the same. No one else had been around through grieving your father’s death. No uncles, no aunts. But the people that had looked after your family since before you were born had been there every step of the way.

At the very top of the staircase you had tumbled down with Ana only hours earlier was a large circular landing, branching off into two halls. The western wing held your sisters’ bedrooms, yours, and the room your mother had moved into in her grief.

The eastern wing was seldom used these days. Since your father had passed, it had been empty except for the staff and your rare journeys to your father’s study for records and estate paperwork. It was perfect for your guests, separate enough from the rest of your family that your eldest sister’s virtue could be ensured without having to turn away the Lord of the land you lived upon.

He would be quite the match for her indeed, if he could get around to actually proposing.

Though you knew that you should have been focusing on Lord Barnes and how best to nudge him in your sister’s direction, your thoughts returned to the General.

You wondered how he was filling his time before dinner. You’d offered them a tour — well, Mister Kirk had offered them a tour on your behalf — but they’d both declined. Perhaps their trip had been long. Ana had not mentioned where they had been voyaging from. It could have been far. Lord Barnes had a few homes. The men in town had said as much when you’d been not-eavesdropping at one of the spring balls.

Only to assure yourself and your mother that Ana would be kept and cared for when they did marry.

Fussing with your hair could only provide distraction for so long. Sat at your vanity, you fiddled with brushes and clips and jewelry that Char had so neatly arranged that morning. Your room was beautiful, smaller than your eldest sisters and made smaller still by the shelves you’d insisted on lining the walls and packing with books. There was no shortage of beautiful trinkets, littered among the stacks of paper. Among your favourites, a bronze compass your father had gifted you and a necklace that had belonged to a distant grandmother you’d never met that appeared more like water droplets than stones.

Every time you allowed your eyes to wander, you could see the General gazing back. Your short glimpse of him had cemented itself in your memory, not allowing you a moment of respite.

He had to know how handsome he was to walk the way he did. Never mind how short your interaction was. You’d seen enough.

Another beautiful man, not unlike the Lord Barnes. The money, the fame behind his title and his bloody victory, meant nothing to you.

But there was something about those eyes…

Perhaps your sisters’ company would distract you.

Before you’d fully registered your decision to move, you found yourself out of your bedroom and at the bottom of the stairs. Your sisters and mother loitered in front of the dining room, chattering amongst themselves.

You slid in between Siena and Ana, linking your arms with theirs. “Are we awaiting something?”

Ana bumped her forehead into your shoulder. “You, silly. Shall we sit. Chef said she was almost finished with supper.”

Your mother opened up the doors to the dining room. This was one room that you were truly proud to inherit. Since you were of an age to sit up without assistance, you’d all sat at the same table. Your grubby hands had smudged across it’s surface. You’d traced the curved edge with the end of a fork at more than one of your father’s terrible business dinner meetings. It was as much of an heirloom than anything else your parents could leave you.

You sat first, at the head of the table opposite your mother as you had since your father had vacated his seat. Your sisters joined you in their chairs with their backs to the window, Siena closest to you.

She leaned across the corner of the table, whispering behind her hand, “How old do you reckon the General is?”

With a roll of your eyes, you whispered back, “Too old for you, dear sister.”

As if summoned, the man himself walked through the door with the Lord Barnes in tow. The General was no longer in a military uniform but a loose white shirt, the sleeves unbound. Barnes was dressed, jacket buttoned and hat tucked under his arm. Truly opposites.

To your dismay, the General sat beside you, leaving the seat next to your mother to Barnes.

“Thank you for joining us, gentleman.” Your mother lifted her wine glass to them, and you followed her lead.

As your servants set your meals in front of you, Lord Barnes broke the silence. “I must say, Miss Dean,” The title caught your attention, though he had directed it to Ana, “It is refreshing to see you after so long of reading your words. Though it was a necessary evil, I have needed to gaze upon you for some time.”

He was bold. So quick to flatter, and in front of your mother, no less. But you weren’t afforded the time to process his words before the General was cutting in.  

“A need, you say?” He echoed. “You aren’t perhaps attempting to rewrite Shakespeare, are you, Finn?” The Lord shot an amused look to his companion, who continued, “Does the line not go something like, ‘So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground’?”

Your mother and Siena both sighed, as if you were the only one that could see the General’s clear attempt to flaunt his abilities. It seemed he was determined to be as infuriating as he was beautiful. And you simply would not have that in your home, disrupting your sister’s love.

“Did you have a lot of time to study literature while on the front lines, General?” You asked sweetly, glaring daggers across your plate. “Or was your time spent reading in an office far from the dying cries of your men?”

Your mother politely engaged Lord Barnes in a conversation as the General’s eyes flared. “I studied classics in school, Miss Dean. I can assure you, though I am a few years removed from my education, I do believe I remember the details of my years of study.”

“Did you attend a private school before joining the military, General? It would be a shame if your father had paid good money for you to quote sonnets on the battlefield.” Siena kicked you under the table but nothing could distract you from the fire behind the General’s eyes.

“I did, though it was of my own merit, not my father’s coin.”

“Lord Barnes!” Siena said loudly, forcing you to keep quiet as the rest of the table fell silent. “How long was your journey today? I don’t think you said.”

“A few hours. And please, do call me Finn. I think that we will all be getting to know each other quite well in the next little while and I must admit I am not used to the title, even after a year.”

“Then we shall.” Ana’s sweet voice broke you out of your anger. The way she gazed at Finn would have stoked the flames if not for how truly happy you were for her.  

Siena perked up as she discovered a way to insert herself into the discussion. “Do you have a favourite, General? Of the writers you studied?”

“The King himself, of course. Shakespeare. I couldn’t possibly pick another. Do you know of another writer that can so excellently balance the comic and the tragic, Miss Dean?” He addressed you, causing Siena to slump down in her seat. “For if you do, I certainly would not mind a recommendation. This summer shall be long without anything stimulating to discuss.”

“Oh General, don’t get her started on the greeks!” Siena faked a swoon, the back of her hand pressed to her brow as she deflated in her chair. “She truly won’t stop chattering if you do.”

The light behind his eyes shifted, the defensive fire from before becoming a curious simmer. “You’re well read.”

You chuckled unbecomingly into your wine. “You sound so surprised, General. Is it more shocking that I am beautiful or that I am a woman, as well as educated?”

Evidently taken aback, he took a moment to compose himself before responding, “I will admit that while both of those traits may make you… distracting, Miss Dean, they do not surprise me. I simply expected the future matron of these grounds to be more focused on her people, rather than a man’s education.”

“Are you accusing me of neglecting my duties, General Dameron?” Your sharp tone silenced the room.

He seemed as if he might be ill over the table before quickly recovering. In a soft voice, he said, “Of course not, Miss Dean.”

His grovelling could not quell the need in your gut to put him in his place. “I would hope not. Though I understand that perhaps the concept is foreign to a man such as yourself, women are more than capable of a trick known as multitasking.”

With a small, apologetic smile into his soup, the General ducked his head.

A rush of untapped power surged in you at his bowed head. You breathed deeply to keep from further injuring him, taking a bite of the soup in front of you.

It tasted of nothing. Chef had rarely disappointed in the years she’d worked for your family, so you were certain it must be you. The sourness of your exchange had need to be cleansed from your palate, perhaps.

A trip to Father’s study would do just the trick. And while you were there, you could brush up on your reading to ensure you were thoroughly prepared on the next occasion the General dared to test you.

“I do believe I am finished.” You pushed your seat back, standing and sweeping from the room without so much as a backward glance.

***

You clutched your skirts in one hand to keep from tripping as you ascended the long staircase that lead you up to your room, your nose in your book. The house was quiet. After your outburst at dinner, it couldn’t have been terribly comfortable to stay seated in that room.

Mrs Wex had not yet extinguished the candles that lined the hall, which left you to navigate in their dull glow. It wasn’t needed. You could have found your way to the room that had been yours since you were a child in the pitch dark. Or asleep. Or bound and barely able to move.

The violent thought was enough to stop you in your tracks. Perhaps it was time to put the books away and get some rest.

You turned down the hallway to the west wing, tucking your book under your arm. It was one that you’d read enough times to open and begin at any place without really missing any of the story, so you weren’t terribly worried about marking down the page number.

A shadow at the end of the hallway moved.

You didn’t have a chance to raise your book up to defend yourself or scream before the shadow held out his hands and stepped into the candlelight. “Miss Dean, it’s me.”

Your hand flew to your throat. “General Dameron,” The words were breathier than you intended, but you pressed on, whisper-shouting, “What exactly do you think you are doing?!”

The General’s sharp features stood out in the wavering light. His hands trembled. Quickly, he straightened himself and let his hands drop. “I was…” He glanced over his shoulder, back down the long hallway. You followed his gaze and noticed your door ajar. “I was searching for a servant. I hadn’t noticed how late it was, so I took care of my task myself.”

Before you could comment on the strange ‘coincidence’ of your room’s disturbance, you realized how close you were standing to him. Your gaze traced down the column of his throat, to the collar of his shirt that he had left unbutton, exposing his chest.

Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to look into his eyes. “It is not proper, General Dameron, for us to be alone together.”

He bowed, stepping away from you as if his proximity was the offending matter, not his presence itself. “I shall leave you then, Miss Dean. Goodnight.” With a slight duck of his head, he walked quickly to the end of the hall with his hands clutched tightly behind his back.

You gazed after him. He was a curious man, confident and near-boastful one moment, and almost shy the next. It certainly was not becoming of a General, who you would have more likely assigned the former description. It would not inspire confidence in men for them to witness their leader so bashful in the presence of a woman.

Once he was surely out of range, you entered your room. Everything was as it should be, nothing disturbed, aside from a folded square of parchment sitting atop the covers of your bed.

You unfolded it. The ink was still drying, but through the smudges, you read:

Dear Esteemed Host,

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes—

In the margins, he had scrawled: Would he be as insistent on being address as Finn in the written form? I suppose we will not ever know.

You continued on reading.

On behalf of myself and my colleague and friend, Lord Barnes, I thank you for your most gracious invitation to reside with you for this tumultuous time in our lives. Though your mother is the owner of this property, I understand from your wonderful staff that it is you that truly manages the grounds, while your mother looks after your sisters, so I thought a formal thanks to be required.

I also think an apology is in order for my behaviour at dinner.

You had never known a man to apologize. For anything. You sat in the shock for a moment before returning to the letter.

I had not intended to offend, though I do believe this was the result of my actions. I truly look forward to further opportunity to hear of your studies and perhaps share some of what I have learned, should you wish to hear of it.

Your humble servant,

      General Poe Dameron

You hadn’t known his name. Poe. He’d scrawled the characters messily, perhaps through force of habit. It fit somehow, warm on your tongue as you whispered his name into the night air.

Perhaps you could entertain his questioning. It couldn’t truly hurt. Could it?

[whatgaviiformes]

The Personal Trash

Okay, I needed the catharsis of writing this out, but I am throwing it under a read more because I honestly don’t expect anyone to read this. Family shit below

I feel like before I start I have to say first I love my husband very much and am continually excited by the life we are and have been building together, and the only goddamn constant in these circumstances is that he is my best friend always. 

The second part of this before I jump in is that his mother, my mother-in-law lives with us, and there are parts of this story I can’t tell because it’s her story and I am not that kind of person.  One of the things I love about him is his loyalty to family. I am the same way. Living with elders does not make me bat an eyelid - they’ve taken care of us, it feels comforting that we can take care of them.

But I need to share the context of our home - it’s a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom townhouse with the three of us, three dogs, with almost every space shared. One kitchen, one living room. It’s a small place. My husband purchased the house in September 2014, and it was around when we started dating. One of our first outings was his housewarming. It was, and still is, a starter home. 

So since he’s had the home, I’ve been around - starting with a weekends, back and forth, and finally a moved in in 2017, married in 2019, and now we are here. Four years later. 

We’ve talked upsizing, getting an in law place if we can. But the housing market is a sellers market at the moment, and things have been good. For four years. 

For four years, the family unit has been the three of us. We’ve all contributed in different ways, and in that time, MIL has retired, husband has switched jobs a few times, and mine has been constant. And I *adore* my job. But it keeps me incredibly busy, overwhelmed often. Work-life balance is a bit of a joke for sure. Like anywhere there are days that I’ve gotten off work and cried. Or, checked out mentally that I couldn’t engage in other things. It’s can be intense, but its rewarding. And there was a period through the past few years where I was the source of income keeping our heads above water. And we were - we were fine.  But it put a lot of stress on me.

In the meantime there have been some health issues - which I will gloss over. Not my story. But MIL has had few different things, on top of us worrying about COVID. We’ve taken her to some different appointments and such.  

We had one such scare two weekends ago, and it kind was a catalyst to a bunch of other stuff that I’ve been dealing with behind the scenes lately. So on Sunday, husband and I went to the grocery store (she was supposed to go on a trip for four days or so) so we were going to use the opportunity to cook a few things together, and we needed to replenish. We were about to grab lunch, and called to see if she wanted anything, and she told him then she wanted to be taken to the hospital. She told us a few days earlier she was having some problems, but only mentioned to my husband that she was worried this might happen. But to me this forewarning was not mentioned, and I was only told because he advised her that she needed to be upfront of what was going on. (For the record, she still was vague). 

This ^ will be a theme.

So we skipped lunch, came back home, I unloaded the food and started putting stuff away because he and I agreed that’s what we do and I told him to keep me updated, and she left without saying anything to me or vice versa.  Husband comes home because COVID means you can’t stay with anyone. Also no beds, so it took awhile (F*CKING GET VACCINATED PEOPLE SO PEOPLE WHO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT AREN’T LAID UP FOR YOUR STUPIDITY  -alsoyesiknowthereareotherreasonspeopleareinthehospitalforcovidjustgivemethisimfrustrated)

11:30 PM that night we picked her back up. It was late, I was tired.  A few days later she tells us that she had a lot of time to think while at the hospital, and tells us she is going to move out. 

First - you know what we did while she was in the hospital? We freaking worried.  Okay - so all of that is facts, details, and I’ve gotten you caught up to the this-happened-then-this-happened. The rest of this is feelings so buckle the fuck up

Husband  - immediately lashes out because he doesn’t like the reasons (still doesn’t) and I find out that there was a conversation the day before between the two of them I wasn’t a part of  - and he felt because she was not being honest with me, he was forced to have to lie to me, his wife, and didn’t like that feeling. 

Me -  feeling confused, a little like this is out of left field, and only not completely surprised because this has happened before with husband telling me, and then it never happening, we misunderstanding. and more times than not it never made it from her mouth to my ears. Also it was never for *this* reason. See how this escalates more  below.

Husband- “I had to learn to live with strangers, and you just can’t stand not being in control” Me -  so wait I am a stranger now?

Husband - do you even like my wife...

and so on. So apparently everything I thought I knew about our home changed in the course of this conversation. What I was able to get out of the cacophony of chaos is that I am insensitive because I don’t interact with her the way she expects me to? And she feels like she’s intruding all the time, despite us assuring her she’s not, inviting her to game nights, and in general sharing in the things that you do as a family like vacations and dinners.  And the more we argued, the more little things came out and little clues.  She’s mentioned leaving before, almost on a 6 month cycle, and the last time was this one -  

So like... when we got Della, and three days in she was like “If they don’t get along I’m going to take Dino and my own place” and so   like... hold up, you can’t just throw away a comment like that. They’ve barely gotten a chance to know each other. (they are fine by the way. Della is a puppy and gets in his face a bit, but she’s still learning. They play, sleep together fine, and we are constantly taking care of the fur kids).

And from what I get from the comments to leave  - because shit there’s still so many pieces to this I feel like I am missing -she will rationalize other reasons like the dog example above.

So when this happens it sends my husband in a spiral, he tells me because she won’t say anything, and the one time we did try to have a conversation about it, she shut down and made it sounds like he misunderstood and made him out to be the asshole. Then in the same breath tell him its not his job to fix everything as a stab at me, but like continue to talk only to him when it involves everyone.

I don’t know if that makes sense. A lot happens without me involved.

So then  - those clues - the hints that all of this is really about me: 

health - i stopped asking because she stopped telling me things, so how am I supposed to know what she can and can’t do. but im at fault for like... not asking.  but she’s not telling.

home - apparently my understanding and my husbands understanding about the stuff she does around the house  - some cleaning, groceries (we pay for) and loading dishwasher, cooking sometimes,. We thought she liked doing them to help around the house, and she’s never told us differently. EDIT- no, she’s told us she likes to help. Cue - you can stop right there, I am an adult and I never asked you to clean up after me.  

I feel like whatever feelings she has for me started a long time ago, and  she continued to let them harbor instead of talking to me about it, until it got to the point where it couldn’t really be solved.

I mean, I am not lacking the self-awareness to recognize that, yeah, I can be messy, and yeah, I can be single minded. There are days where my husband is talking me and I just space answering him because I can’t or or I just mentally lose it in processing.

I am seeing this mirror reflected back at me of like - I have all these expectations for you, and you are a problem and, but like.... it kind of goes both ways? And I feel like you’ve made these circumstances yourself? And if  you want to leave that’s fine, but its not from our doing? 

And so in the end *I* feel like I am the one under scrutiny for everything I do or say and how I interact in my home. And it feels like selfishness, and self-victimizing behavior that I’ve seen time and time again, and I don’t really see a way out. 

So husband just wants to keep the family together, he’s taking this to heart - its his mom, and there are feelings there about how they’ve provided for each other. He would feel differently if they got the house and she moved in with him under the notion that she was going to save, get her own place. But it wasn’t, and so he has this weight on his shoulders for it, for failing in some way.

And I  - well. I didn’t really realize the family unit we had wasn’t working... at least to that extent and that it stemmed from me and I’m really hurt by it. Aside from the stuff above, I am really easy going - I try to give everyone space, and make everyone happy. I shut down if I am processing something. I’ve never intentionally tried to make her feel unwelcome. I’ve invited her to my family vacations, we’ve all equally enjoyed dinner’s out. 

And though I’d be willing to try to do better, i am absolutely livid that this conversation waited until it was at its worst. So now I don’t really want to try to do better because I am mad and hurt, and don’t feel like my sacrifices or contributions are being acknowledged, nor do I think she will do the same thing to be self-reflective and recognize her own part of all this. And above all things, I truly hate to be misunderstood. And I will completely shut down under that kind of self-victimizing behavior and thoughtlessness to other people. I don’t want to lose myself over this, in my own home.

So neither path is really an easy or right solution. She moves out, husband loses a bit of respect in her and the relationship they have.. She stays, recognizing your own part in lack of communication is a long term thing, and I have to feel this awkward limbo for that whole process.. if it  even gets there.

I feel like I am walking on eggshells constantly. 

I should never have to question if a “Hello” will be taken the right way and that’s how i fucking feel. 

[pl-panda]

To marry a Vigilante: Part 1

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

------

When they finally pulled apart, Marinette needed a moment for her brain to restart. She was sure she would melt right then and there. At the same time, she wanted to jump and scream from sheer ecstasy. It was all she ever wanted and now she had it. 

Damian stared at her empty expression. 

“I think you broke her.” Plagg suddenly zoomed out of her pocket, followed by Tikki who tried (and failed) to catch him. 

This was enough for Mari to finally start thinking coherently. “Um… Yeah… I… Maybe…” Or mostly coherently at least.

“Habibti. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.” Damian guided her. Slowly, Mari returned to her senses. 

“Thank you… I think I might have kinda lost my breath there.” She gave him an apologetic smile. 

“Nothing happened. Now I think I need to leave or my brothers will get some stupid idea and I will have to practice my skill with a sword.” Damian deadpanned. 

“Since I know I can’t stop you, please at least don’t kill them until I get to know them better?”

“I can try, but no promises.” He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand.

“Oh! Wait!” She fumbled through her pocket for a moment before pulling out a small box. Plagg immediately was pulled inside it (much to Tikki’s amusement). “Damian Wayne. As Guardian of the Miraculous, I give you the miraculous of the Black Cat, which gives you the power of destruction. I trust you to protect it and use it to help others.”

Damian was stunned only for a short moment and definitely didn’t move his mouth like a fish. Definitely. “I accept that honor and thank you for your trust.”

“There is no one I would trust more than you with this. If not for your and your family’s help, I would’ve never caught Hawkmoth or the Cat.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re brilliant and it was only a matter of time.” 

“Time I might’ve not had. Chat was working with Hawkmoth. Who knows when I would’ve fallen into a trap…”

“It’s all over now, Habibti.” He grabbed her hand. “Everything is going to be better now.” When she smiled he let go and opened the box. Plagg appeared in a flash. 

“For the record, I hate these boxes.”

“Stop complaining. If you stayed there it wouldn’t have been so bad.” Tikki scolded him.

Marinette giggled at the interaction of the two little gods. Damian just shook his head and donned the ring. 

“Can I see how you’ll look?” She asked before her smile took a more grin-like look. “I want to see if you’ll have a cute cat-ears.”

“Maybe when you are in Gotham.” He scoffed. “Thank you, angel. It’s the best Christmas gift you could’ve given me. Your trust means more than gold to me.”

“But Christmas is still a long way away…” Mari tried to dismiss him, but seeing his expression she doubled back. He looked almost scared. Almost, since Damian Wayne did not get scared.

“Angel… Christmas Eve is tomorrow. That’s why your class is leaving on Monday. You are all going to be attending the Wayne New Year Gala next Friday.”

“But… But… Wouldn’t there be decorations in stores? And Santa Clauses on the street? Or at least…”

“There were. Mostly Miraculous themed though. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.” He said with a bit too much amusement slipping into his voice.

“Kwami! Kwami! Kwami!” She started to pace. “I completely forgot! How could I have forgotten Christmas!?” She was close to collapsing. Damian was quickly by her, holding her wrists together to not accidentally get slapped by her flailing arms. 

“Habibti. There is nothing to worry about. You already gave everyone the greatest gift possible by ridding them of that terrorist. I admit I regret that we will not be able to spend our first Christmas together as a family, but the last several months were the best of my life already. You don’t need to give me anything more.”

“But… But…” She was at the edge of crying.

“Marinette. Don’t worry. I have an idea.” Tikki reassured her Chosen. “Go tell your parents to pack everything.”

“But… Maman and I must be here at six on Monday” She tried to argue. 

“You will be. Kaalki owes me a favor.” The kwami dismissed her. 

“But… But I can’t just abuse the miraculous.”

“Marinette. All Kwami love you. They would be happy to help you if the need arose.” Tikki nuzzled into her cheek. Mari finally relented.

“Fine… But I’m buying her three boxes of sugar cubes,” she said with conviction. 

The two kwami giggled and Damian cracked a smile. 

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

Adrien cursed loudly. He barely managed to escape those damn heroes. And to think that his Lady marries some American ragtag instead of him? That’s how she repaid him for his loyalty? For all of his sacrifices? That was just a travesty. 

But it didn’t matter in the end. She didn’t deserve to be Ladybug anyway and now finally, the world could be free from her. Of course, heroes could try to save her. They could even succeed. But he made a point. He severed all the ties with that cursed bitch. Now he could focus on his true soulmate: Marinette. She was the real Ladybug. She was loyal, honest, brave, kind, selfless, beautiful. They’re made for each other. In a perfect world, they would be with one another if he was not blinded by the imposter. She had a crush on him in the past, but he ruined it. Now he had to work trice as hard to get her to join him. 

“Don’t worry mother. We will have our family again.” He said, looking at the stasis chamber. 

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

When Marinette and her parents exited the portal in Wayne Manor, they were greeted by Alfred the Butler and Alfred the Cat. 

“Ah. Young Madame Marinette, Madame Cheng, Master Dupain. It is my pleasure to welcome you. I was told you would be arriving through… extraordinary means.” He greeted them. 

“We’re sorry for all the trouble we’re causing you on such short notice.” Marinette immediately started to apologize.

“You are no trouble at all. Definitely not compared to the usual Christmas mess.” He dismissed her apology. She wanted to protest, but the cat jumped onto her and she instinctively grabbed him and hugged.

“I see Alfred the Cat likes you, Angel.” Damian’s voice came from behind. Immediately, Marinette whirled around, only to stare into a pair of green eyes. 

“Damian!” She wanted to hug him, but the cat was a bit in the way. Instead, she just leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. They both smiled. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sabine spoke. “Is Cassandra home? I would like to meet my niece. We spoke several times over the phone, but meeting in person is…”

“She is in the gym, practicing ballet,” Alfred informed her. 

“Thank you. Tom, be a kind husband, and carry my things to our room. And don’t forget the bag.” She patted Tom’s cheek before leaving. 

“Come, Habibti. I will show you the garden.” Damian grabbed her waiting hand.

“Take my bags too, dad? Thanks!” Mari shouted without looking back before she, Damian, and the cat left the room, leaving Tom with half the house packed into bags. 

“Why do women carry so much with them…?” He sighed. 

“It’s a mystery of the world that we, mere mortals, will never know, Sir,” Alfred answered in his usual tone. 

---------

“Cassandra?” Sabine asked, leaning through the doors leading to the gym. The mats that would usually cover the ground were all rolled in the corner to make space. A large mirror covered the entire right wall. A lone girl in a white ballet outfit danced to Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet music. 

The girl did not answer or break her dance, but Sabine noted that her gaze shifted toward doors in the mirror. It was just a short moment to assess the threat without breaking concentration on whatever one did. It was the same as she often did. It was an instinct learned through years of training. David Cain better stayed in that cell or else.

When the song ended, Cass turned the music off and walked closer to Sabine until they were standing about a foot apart. 

“You’re a great dancer.” The woman started. Cass only nodded in response. 

“Practice.” She said. There was more awkward silence where the two measured each other. 

“I’m sorry sweetie. For what happened to you. If I knew, I would’ve searched for you and gave you a proper home.” A tear appeared in Sabine’s eye. When they spoke through video, it was mostly about meaningless things to get used to one another or neutral subjects. Now, in person, Sabine wanted to get all regret off her heart. 

“No… fault.” The girl answered. “All… good.” 

“Can I… Hug you?” Sabine asked, fully aware that not everyone liked physical contact.

“Hug?” Cass asked. To this day, only Dick or Tim wanted to give her hugs and it was rare. “Okay?” She more asked than agreed, but her aunt responded by slowly pulling the girl to her heart. 

“I’m still sorry. If I see my sister, she is gonna get her ear screamed off.” She assured the girl. “How could she… You’re such a sweet girl.”

Cassandra Cain smiled. She liked being hugged by that woman. And the image of her mother cowering before her older sister was too funny. 

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

“Damian!” Marinette shouted as he dragged her through the garden. It was much colder in Gotham than in Paris. And it was still only late morning here while she left Paris in the afternoon. She was a bit tired. 

“I want to show you something, Angel. Come on! Before my brothers find us and drag me into their ‘Christmas spirit’ stuff.” He groaned at the thought.

“Christmas is important!” She argued.

“Definitely when you are here.” He answered easily. It was lucky he was too focused on the road to look back because she blushed… hard. 

They walked through the forest that was on the manor grounds until they entered a small clearing. In the center, there was a stone garden gazebo with the fire burning in the center. It definitely gave heat, but little smoke dispersed in the air before it could alert anyone to that location. There were several stone benches inside.

“I found it during one of my… escape attempts when I was younger.” He admitted. “Now I use it as a retreat from my brothers. The herb mixture I use as fuel gives no smoke.”

“Why bring me here?” She asked. 

“I just thought that we should enjoy the peace before the hurricane that my brothers become washes over us.”

Mari giggled. “I met your brothers.”

“No. You saw them. I had to live with them for the last five years. They are crazy.”

“It can’t be that bad… right?”

“Last year Todd set the Christmas Tree on fire.” He deadpanned.

“Okay, that might’ve been an accident.” She tried to argue. 

“Four years ago Grayson decided to show his acrobatic skill to put a star on the top of the tree. He ended up crashing it on us and the dinner table.”

“It… happens?” She said, but with less conviction. 

“Two years ago, Drake decided to surprise Brown and bought her a life-sized statue of them made out of chocolate.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad…” 

“Except that insomniac idiot accidentally ordered it made out of chocolate ice cream!” 

“Oh…” Marinette didn’t have an answer for that.

“So as I said, they can be a bit much.”

“Don’t worry. I still think it could be worse. My Nona once gave my parents a motorbike with two sidecars as a Christmas gift.”

“Tt. That sounds normal.” 

“Except one of them was made as a crib for me. I was one at the time.” 

Damian cracked a smile.

“I still think you will thank me for showing you this place.” 

“May I remind you that you will all be stuck with my mom for the better part of the exchange. She will keep them in check.” Mari huffed. 

“I don’t doubt that.” He pulled his phone and showed her a photo of Sabine standing over Talia. The next one was of unconscious Talia with Tom standing over her with the broken chair.

Mari giggled and she would later swear that Damian laughed a bit. Not that anyone saw them. Well, no human. Alfred the Cat could hardly testify.

------

Masterlist // Next

[one-abuse-survivor]

This might be a weird question, but is it normal for one person to go off on/lecture the other over small things in a romantic relationship?

Yesterday, I was telling my dad that I wanted to dye my hair, and he told me he would ask my mom. Today, he told me that he asked her, and she “exploded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.”

He said that she just went off on him, going on and on about why it was a terrible idea. She didn’t stop there, though. She went on to lecture him for one incident, days ago, where he had told me that I didn’t have to eat a fruit after dinner (I was not hungry, but my mom would not stop harassing me over it). She basically told him that it was all his fault that I was not eating fruit anymore (I was, for the record, still eating fruit; I just had no appetite, so I was “only” eating two or three fruits a day).

When I asked my dad about this, he said that all romantic partners have flaws, so even if he had not married her, someone else would have had different flaws, just like how both he and my mom had their own flaws.

But it seems to my that the way my mom acts is a little extreme—she lectures my dad and me very often, and she always invalidates both our emotions. Both of us have some issues with falling asleep, and she’s always lecturing us for not listening to her and trying whatever “technique” she has. The thing is, though, that she starts acting all annoyed when we don’t do exactly what she says, even if what she says only makes things worse. She’s had an interest in spirituality, which is fine, but then she starts scolding us for not going by whatever she says.

A while back, we all got COVID, and she started getting mad at him for something and talking about how she needs to express her feelings. When it’s him, though, he apparently needs to just “change” his anger. He needs to just stop being worried.

Sometimes, she will even get mad at me for something, not because I did anything wrong, but because she was in a bad mood, and my dad will agree with her. Later, though, when I ask him, he tells me that he doesn’t really agree; he just didn’t want her on his case. I can’t even blame him because I do the same thing (my mom badmouths my dad a lot to me, and me a lot to my dad, and gets mad if we don’t agree with her).

My dad even helps me keep secrets from her—not about big things, but about little things that we both know will set her off (we dared to eat ice cream; I bought a shirt WITH MY OWN MONEY that was not on sale; other small things).

He even got her a new car for her anniversary, complete with a red ribbon, and while she was super happy, she later started joking about how it was the wrong color. He did so much, and this is how she reacts?

Is the way my mom acts really such a normal thing in romantic relationships (or parent/child relationships, for that matter)? I’ve never been in romantic relationship, and my only other examples of romance are my aunt and uncle, who constant have screaming matches and passive aggression so obvious even I can pick up on it, and my grandparents, who were in an arranged marriage. I just don’t know who to ask.

Is it selfish if I don’t think I want to experience this? I hate my mom’s lecturing as is—sometimes it hurts bad enough to make me want to S/H. I don’t think I could take it from a romantic partner, to. Does this make me a bad person?

I don’t think that’s selfish at all, nonnie. You’re not a bad person for not wanting to put up with a potential partner who will treat you like this. In fact, I’d be concerned if you said you did want to experience something like this in a romantic relationship, because a lot of your mom’s behaviours are red flags of abuse, both toward you and your dad.

Constant lecturing and accusations, controlling and criticising everything your partner does to the point where they have to keep secrets from you to avoid your reaction, and “exploding” with minor or unimportant things and pretending like your emotions justify those explosions while also getting mad if your partner disagrees with you or expresses their emotions in any way, are all red flags of emotionally abusive behaviour. So is thinking that people should always do what you think is best for them, and getting mad when they don’t. So is badmouthing victims to one another and reacting badly if they don’t agree with you. Here’s a post I think might help better understand which of your mom’s behaviours are not okay toward either of you.

Now, regarding your doubts about what’s normal in a healthy relationship. There’s some truth in what youd dad said about all partners having flaws, although I don’t know if “flaws” is the word I’d personally use. We all have things going on in our lives; be it mental health issues, financial issues, disabilities, bad relationships with family members, or literally anything else a person can go through: questioning parts of their identity (sexuality, gender, religion...), struggling with studying and/or work, wanting to give up a bad habit... being nitpicky with food or thriving in messy spaces... There’s no such thing as a partner who won’t have something going on in their life. If you’re in a relationship there will be moments when your and their needs clash or are incompatible, and you won’t be able to be the person the other needs in that moment. And if you’re in a relationship, you’re going to have to face many of these battles together, and put effort into seeing them through as a team.

But there’s a difference between the commitment to someone else’s struggles that comes with any close (not necessarily romantic) relationship, and justifying your partner’s mistreatment toward you because “that’s just how everyone is in one way or another, so I might just as well settle for this.” That is, in fact, something many abuse victims say when their abusive partner has normalised and justified their behaviours over and over again. 

I’ve been in a relationship for over six years now. That’s double the time I’ve been out of my abuser’s house and in recovery, so as you can imagine, my girlfriend has been very involved in this aspect of my life and has been there with me through many tough moments. And I’ve been there through her struggle with mental illness, too. And we were there for each other as we figured out part of our identities, and while we worried over exams, and a long list of things that have come up throughout the years and will continue to come up. And yeah, sometimes I feel really overwhelmed by the idea of cooking and she offers to do it for both of us to take care of me, and sometimes she hands me her money so I can pay for the things she wants to buy because she’s too overwhelmed to interact with strangers; and sometimes both of us are having an overwhelming day and we can’t help one another and it all sucks a bit more than usual. But we never demand that the other be there for us if the other can’t do that. We don’t demand that the other prioritise our needs to their own. And yeah, sometimes we can get angry because bad days exist and sometimes everything is too frustrating to handle; but when this happens, we just say, “hey, I’m angry/grumpy/frustrated/stressed out today, I need space or to be alone, please don’t touch me or talk to me for a while” and we establish boundaries and express our needs and emotions as openly as we can. Without being accusatory or demanding. Because you can be mad at someone, or having a bad day around someone, and still actively want to take steps to avoid hurting them. And someone can be mad at you, or having a terrible day around you, and still take steps to make you feel safe and respected. 

And, nonnie, the bad days shouldn’t make you feel like you’re only staying with that person because “no one will treat me better than this”. You shouldn’t have to wonder whether the good moments make up for the bad ones, because the bad ones shouldn’t leave you feeling miserable and unsafe. You shouldn’t have to constantly worry about everything you say or do making your partner explode. It’s one thing to take your partner’s struggles and boundaries into consideration and do things that will help them feel better, and another to walk on eggshells around them for fear of their reactions. And if staying in your relationship feels like you’re “settling with one person’s flaws so you don’t have to deal with someone else’s equally bad flaws”, then chances are you’d be better off without that person in your life, because romantic relationships (which, by the way, are not a mandatory part of life whatsoever) should bring good things to your life, not feel like a task or a burden. And if they feel like that, it’s completely okay to break up, even if you have kids. Especially if you have kids that are suffering that abusive situation as well.

I hope some of this helps! If you have more questions I’ll be more than happy to answer them. Sending support your way ❤

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.  

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

[katierosefun]

well, here we are! june basically flew by and it was a little rough, but we’re back with some long recs on cool things i’ve read/listened to/watched, and i’m about to force everyone to sit down and listen to my sleepover-esque ted talk in which i give unwarranted and unasked for rec lists. so here we go!

kdrama:

while you were sleeping

okay, so i tried to watch this kdrama when it came out in like...2017, i think? but for some reason, i wasn’t able to get past the first episode. i don’t really know why? because it’s so beautifully shot, and i super love the premise, which is basically this girl and this guy are somehow able to see things that are going to happen in the future...but only in their dreams. this whole kdrama really handled the plot super well--each episode honestly felt like a movie in itself, and the filming was just stunning, and i think this has to be one of the most visual kdramas i’ve ever seen. each character is also super interesting and complex on their own, and i really loved seeing such a strong cast of characters interact with each other in this world. 

i think the only slight downside of this kdrama was that i couldn’t really get invested in the romance? i’m not quite sure why--i found both lead actors’ performances wonderful, and don’t get me wrong, i did think they were cute together as the drama went on, but i still couldn’t find myself buying into the romance until maybe relatively late in the drama (like...ep 11 or so? ep 16 was honestly when i realized that awww, wait, they’re actually super cute). but then again, i feel like the writers weren’t really prioritizing the romance either--i think they really wanted us to think about the beauty of dreams and redemption and how everyone can touch another person’s life in some significant way, so i can’t really be mad about it!

but anyways, overall i really enjoyed this kdrama and watched it all a lot faster than i thought i would! SOLID music, beautiful cinematography, good acting, mostly good writing, and some really memorable characters! def. a must-watch if you love suspense, aesthetics, and some wonderful characters.

the ghost detective

i’m someone who doesn’t like horror or scary things at all, but i was so intrigued by the plot and whatever material i saw on tumblr, and...of course, choi daniel, lee joo young, lee ji ah, and park eun bin. honestly, this is just a really wonderful and really underrated cast, and they really all brought out their a-game for this 32-episode supernatural / thriller / horror drama. basically, this kdrama follows the story of a young woman who’s trying to figure out who murdered her younger sister...and of course, there’s something supernatural going on. 

honestly, this kdrama was such a ride. i loved the crime-solving aspect of it, and i was really in love with the interactions between all the characters, esp. that of eun bin and daniel’s characters. (guys...they’re so ride and die for each other. there’s also so much yearning. so much yearning in this kdrama, it just about killed me--) 

the villain was absolutely, appropriately, elegantly creepy, and like...scary beyond belief. basically, the villain (lee ji ah’s character) feeds her victims these harmful thoughts and ultimately get them to kill themselves. it’s sad and haunting, especially when you see that the victims tell their victims “don’t listen to the bad things. try only to listen to the good things”. and...yeah. themes of how to handle all of these bad feelings inside of you really came through in this kdrama, and there were a lot of themes of suicide and the kind of rage and sadness that comes with that. (also! if you’re a fan of lots of angsty/whumpy situations....this kdrama definitely does not hold back with all of your fave whump/angst tropes! literally! every! episode! i! had! to! lie! down! because! too! powerful!)

school 2013 

(aww, look at this precious cast…as though they didn’t all make me ugly cry at least five times—)

yeah, yeah, yeah, i’ve talked about this kdrama ad nauseum, and i know i watched it last month, but as i was studying for the lsat, i really, really, really needed some comfort. most notably comfort re: studying life, academics, how difficult it is to study but also be uncertain of your dreams…and if you are certain of your dreams, how that sometimes requires studying but that just makes life all the more overwhelming…can you tell i’ve been thinking about this a lot

i’m not going to ramble more about this kdrama considering i already have done so multiple times, but i enjoyed this rewatch and honestly,,,my love for this show has just grown even more. there’s a good reason why people consider this a comfort kdrama, because. i consider myself deeply comforted. also, i’ve been listening to the ost for the whole month. it’s become a problem. but sometimes. sometimes you need to listen to songs that feel like someone’s patting you on the head and telling you don’t give up, set down your burdens, don’t think you’re alone and dream whatever you want to dream, go wherever you want to go. i’ll stop talking now, but god. when i say that i think everyone who has ever felt incredibly tired by work or school and just wished for someone to give them a big hug either then or now...god. this is just one of those kdramas that i think honestly touched so many people’s lives, and i’m very grateful for the cast and crew and writers for ever bringing this story to life. :’) (god, okay, now i’ll stop talking before i make myself cry i’m fine this is fine)

your honor

so, i watched this kdrama thinking that it would be light and funny given that yoon shi yoon is the main male lead, but boy was i wrong--don’t be fooled by these happy little faces, this kdrama is heavy. this kdrama is about a young man (with a criminal record) who winds up impersonating his twin brother, who happens to be a judge. we also have a trainee who, after seeing the legal system fail her older sister, is on the rise to dispense justice through the courts the best she can.

honestly, the first few episodes were rough, mostly because of the content. big trigger warning for rape, violence, and sexual harassment at work. this kdrama really didn’t hold back when it came to addressing how the very people who use the law can also be the very same people who manipulate and abuse it. because of that, i found this kdrama incredibly powerful. that said, it certainly had its lighthearted moments too. 

overall though, i liked this kdrama. the main characters were incredibly complex and genuinely the type to make me believe that for all the injustices in the world, there are still and always will be people fighting for the right thing. as someone who wants to enter the legal field, this kdrama was just uplifting. i was so blown away by the absolute rawness of the main two leads, esp. yoon shi yoon, who i’ve only ever seen in super lighthearted kdramas. so this was a really interesting change of pace, and i genuinely enjoyed watching this!

waiting for love

so this kdrama is just two episodes, and what’s better is that it’s available on youtube! it’s about two college students--a young woman who’s been hurt by falling in love with jerks now just wants to date, not really fall in love...and a young man who’s excellent at giving dating advice except he’s afraid that he’s never going to actually fall in love, so he just dates a girl for the sake of dating.

now, i kinda thought that this show was going to be kinda lighthearted, a little shallow--but it was weirdly...comforting? idk, i found myself liking it a lot more than i thought it would be. this is far from the perfect kdrama, and i kinda wished that we got more than 2 episodes because i think some of the plot points could have been better expanded, but...there were genuinely a lot of scenes that made me think a bit more about what it actually means to be in a loving relationship--like how it’s not enough to just put on a happy smile and eat meals together, but like...you know. there has to be trust and actual liking and also, yeah, maybe a bit of frustration in order to actually know whether a relationship is real or not. and given that the characters were all discussing the pressure on getting married and romance esp. when you’re in your twenties...idk. makes you think about are you dating someone for the sake of appearances? or do you genuinely...like them?

there was also quite a few tropes that i personally adore in this kdrama, which helped balance out the stuff i found more tiring. there was a lot of the “right person, wrong time” stuff going on (you really want the two main leads to get together after a certain point, and you just keep holding your breath whenever they walk past each other and beg please please please let it be this time...), and also that good old “two strangers fall in love with each other purely over writing to each other” (god. first the half of it, then me & au, then greenhouse podcast...something about this trope huh). that said, there were def. some parts that made me “:////” because some of the characters were kind of frustrating, but i’m gonna chalk that up to good writing since i think i was mostly mad about how i knew people like some of the characters lol. overall, i think this might be at least semi-enjoyable--it’s probably not something i’ll watch again, but it def. made me mull over what it means to actually be in a loving relationship, esp. if you’re in your twenties and everyone around you seems to be in happy romantic relationships/getting engaged and whatnot. 

movie: 

columbus 

i’m a firm believer that there are some movies that are meant to cheer you up, some movies meant to make you cry, and then there’s some movies that are just meant to...sit with you. and this movie is definitely one of them. this story follows casey, a high school graduate, and jin, the son of a famous architect. the two of them are both so incredibly exhausted with their lives (casey with her constant worry about her mother, who’s a recovering drug addict; jin with his surface-level lack of concern for his comatose father). in their small town of columbus, indiana, the two of them bond over architecture and just. being quietly there for each other.

this movie’s been compared a few times to lost in translation in the sense that there’s this not quite romance between the two leads, who have a bit of an age gap (john cho and haley lu richardson have about 20 between them!). to be honest, i didn’t really get the sense that there was supposed to be a romance. if anything, it just felt like...two really lonely people finding each other. definitely not a simple friendship--definitely not a familial kind of relationship, definitely intimate. 

idk. i think this movie might not be for everyone--i definitely agree with a lot of past reviewers that this movie is on the slower side. there’s some stuff here about complicated relationships with parents, a lot of cool architecture, really beautiful shots...and overall, it’s just...quiet. it’s lovely, and i can’t really stop thinking about it. it’s subtle, bittersweet, and oddly compelling. might not be the kind of thing you’d want to watch in the middle of the day, but if you’re a little sad and in the mood for something not to necessarily lift your spirits but...at least acknowledge them and sit with you, then...this is the movie to watch. idk. i felt kind of crummy the day i watched this movie, and i felt as though someone just sat next to me on a park bench until the sun went down. (mayhaps specific but hush, i’m writing this right after finishing this movie, so i’m...feeling a certain way.)

wish dragon 

i watched this movie right after watching columbus because a) decided i was in the mood for something lighter, and b) i learned that john cho?? voiced?? the dragon?? (caroline your crush on john cho’s jumping out this month...) 

but anyways! i loved this movie a lot. it was so satisfying? like, just narratively speaking? and the animation was wonderful and also weirdly smooth and satisfying, and there were a lot of funny and touching moments. this movie’s about this young man named din who stumbles upon a magical teapot that holds the wish dragon long--long has to grant din three wishes, and yes, i know, very aladdin, but that said, this movie has so many original twists that it feels weird to call it an aladdin retelling. it really did feel like a movie completely on its own, which i applaud the writer and director for! 

i don’t want to spoil too much of this movie, but something i really enjoyed was that din’s main wish is just to see his old childhood friend again. idk, i think we all have that one friend from when we were really little that we miss--and this movie really dug into that, as well as themes about parents wanting to do the best they can to provide for their kids, and!!! and long the dragon gets his own storyline and amazing character development too!!! i was honestly just amazed at how this movie fleshed out the characters so well and had so many wonderful themes that just made me tear up. guys. this movie’s great. highly recommend for its wonderful characters and the power of friendship. just a grand old time in general. :’))

searching 

yeah...yeah, i wasn’t kidding about my crush on john cho this month. yes, i watched three of his movies within 24 hours. this movie is about david kim who’s looking for his missing 16 year old daughter, margot. this film is honestly noteworthy for many reasons, one of them being that the entire movie is told through like...a laptop screen, as in we kind of follow david’s frantic search through facetime, facebook, tumblr...which i honestly didn’t think i’d be into, but whoo boy, i was wrong. it just added to the whole addictive quality of this movie, as it usually does when it comes to anything from the thriller genre. 

but besides this just being a straight up addictive thriller with absolutely mouth-dropping twists (but like...good twists, and smart twists, good god--), this movie was just...touching? there’s so many themes related to what grief does to a family (because we learn within the first 10 minutes that the mom died due to cancer), and there’s just...something really fragile about relationships between surviving family members. i was absolutely blown away by john cho’s performance as a tentative and grieving widower whose world just absolutely falls apart in his search for his daughter. this movie was just so...real because of that. like, yes, this movie has all of the suspense that you would expect this kind of movie to have, but there was also just...so many beautiful themes about grief and how far parents would go for their kids and godddd yeah no i started sobbing when the movie ended. god. 

also, my bias towards john cho aside, i...really loved his character. david kim is absolutely believable, and like? he’s not just the guy putting the pieces together--he’s also the guy who misses his wife and also the guy who wishes that he was there for his daughter. he’s also the guy who pauses and re-writes all his text messages because he’s trying to be a good dad. i feel like with a lot of these suspense / missing person movies, it’s really easy to have characters who are just the stoic alpha male types--and david kim definitely had his badass moments in this movie, but like...something i just loved was seeing the vulnerability that comes with...having a missing child. being a parent. god. this movie messed me up but in a good way. i can honestly say that this movie is now probably going to be one of my fave movies of all time. highly recommend, am literally obsessed with it.

book:

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

ohohoho………where to begin with this book. this was one of those books where i was like “huh i kinda don’t understand why people are so obsessed with this book”, but then i hit like...page 20 or 30 and was like “oh god i Literally Cannot Put This Book Down Oh No” and wound up finishing it in like three days (mind you, i only read at like...midnight these days. i don’t understand why either). 

i finished this book at like 2 am and promptly burst into tears because this was just one of those books. it follows the story of evelyn hugo, a famous hollywood actress from the 60s or so and onwards. known for her intense beauty and her seven husbands, she’s now giving an exclusive interview to the young reporter monique grant, where she’s about to tell all about her life. this book had me dropping my mouth multiple times, and i think tjr can spin one hell of a story, with so many good twists and turns and intensely memorable characters. by the end of the book, i was actually mad that evelyn hugo wasn’t a real person, because i, too, fell a little in love with her and thought, i want to actually watch her movies. i want to learn even more about this remarkable woman. 

but alas! she’s not real, so i don’t get to see her accept an oscar or look up all the tabloids about her and her seven husbands or her speculated (and very, very, very real) relationship with celia st. john. basically...i just loved this book. the last line made me smile and laugh and cry a little bit (actually...cry a lot), and y’know...i’ll admit it’s not totally perfect, but i’m glad this book exists, and i’m glad that even though tjr isn’t bi herself, was very adamant in this book about bisexuality being real. just. like. god. once again. mad that evelyn hugo isn’t real. it’s fine, she’s real in my heart.

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 riddlebat ship meme

(@heroes-etc picked me out a lot of questions and we’re still going. This set is from this ship meme.)

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Ostensibly it would be Edward, if putting together a subtext-laden citywide scavenger hunt that threatens the lives of hundreds counts as “making the first move.” But there’s a limit to how much deliberately obfuscating any expression of your feelings can be considered making any move at all. He also doesn’t seem to really know what he wants from Bruce — in “Alone,” he’s quick to say that he designed the puzzles to lead Batman to him on purpose, but doesn’t have an answer when questioned on what he wanted Batman to do other than catch him.

So even though Edward is technically the instigator here, he places the burden of actually doing something entirely on Batman. Which is difficult, because Riddler’s increased brutality in the New 52 makes him like the last possible version of the character Bruce would choose to pursue. BUT Scott Snyder made Batjokes practically text in this continuity, so obviously New 52 Bruce does not have a problem getting overly emotionally involved with supervillains who have unrealistically large body counts. In fact, the brutality may work to Edward’s advantage here; if he caused enough damage, maybe Bruce would kidnap him and keep him in the Batcave the way it was revealed he was keeping the Joker in Dark Days: The Casting #1. 

What could be more romantic than being imprisoned in the batcave? Well, probably a lot of things, really. But in this case, having a lot of quality time together in which Riddler is not actively murdering anyone is probably the only way that these two could work out what they have going on between them. 

Edward could also earn his way down there by figuring out Batman’s identity, which he’s clearly pretty close to in Batman Annual #4. There’s only so much mental distance between “Bruce Wayne is obsessed with the death of his parents and his drive for justice and revenge has led him to bring Batman into existence, making him responsible for everything Batman has ever done” and “Bruce Wayne IS Batman,” especially when Bruce Wayne does things like climb museum exhibits to leave through the skylight or pull off a trickshot that ruins Riddler’s whole evil plan directly in front of Edward’s face.

And if he DID figure it out, New 52 Riddler would probably be less courteous about its secrecy than Joker is. (Not that Joker is THAT polite about it, given that he keeps trying to use the information to either kill Bruce’s whole family, or... I don’t know... whatever he did with Wayne Enterprises in Joker War. Wait, is THAT why Bruce was keeping Joker in the Batcave in Rebirth?) 

So just to review, I am *checks notes* arguing that Bruce would instigate a romantic relationship by kidnapping Edward and imprisoning him against his will. Yes, that sounds about right for DC’s current continuity.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

If Riddler DOESN’T know Batman’s secret identity, then he would want to have a threesome with Bruce Wayne. Batman Annual #4 suggests that he might have already been a bit obsessed with Bruce even before suspecting his involvement with Batman, given that he talks about how watching Bruce in the tabloids growing up was everyone’s “favorite tv show” and reminisces about learning a lot of information about Bruce’s life that way, including stuff that wouldn’t have made it to the news, like Bruce anonymously setting his teacher’s yard on fire as a teenager.

It’s actually almost a Batman Forever vibe, or it would be if New 52 Edward wasn’t so much less endearing. Is his childhood fascination with Bruce part of why he got a job working for Bruce’s uncle at Wayne Enterprises as an adult, or was that just a happy accident in his preparations for Zero Year? Either way, he’s clearly obsessed with Bruce now, and he’s definitely under the impression that Batman knows him well. So as long as he didn’t know they were the same person, he would probably try to arrange a ménage à trois (wouldn’t that be awkward).

If he DID know they were the same person, then unfortunately Edward would definitely try and instigate a threesome with Joker. I’m not saying it would work, I’m just saying that all of the War of Jokes and Riddles reads like Edward trying to insert himself in the middle of Batjokes and getting rejected by both of them repeatedly.

Joker wasn’t interested the first time Riddler came on to him (or the second time, literally in the same office, Edward please learn how to read a room), so he probably wouldn’t go for it if Edward tried again. But if The War and Jokes and Riddles demonstrated anything, it’s that Edward doesn’t know how to take a hint, so he’d probably try again regardless. And then blame Bruce when it doesn’t work, probably. I always thought it was dumb when Riddler hyped up the oh-so-horrible thing that Batman did to him in the War of Jokes and Riddles in Batman #19, only for it to turn out that Bruce just, like... almost stabbed him.... but didn’t. After Riddler had ALREADY betrayed him.

But it makes more sense that Edward is being such a dramatic bitch if you’re instead interpreting “I still remember what he did” as just a summary of the conga line of rejection that Riddler received over the course of that arc from both sides of Batjokes.

(TWOJAR as helpfully summarized by @heroes-etc​)

11. What do they hide from one another?

I don’t think they can really hide anything from each other, actually. I mean there’s the obvious “Batman is hiding his secret identity” and “Riddler is hiding evil scheme of the week #39.” But Bruce is the “World’s Greatest Detective” as per usual, and Edward is actually not that far behind him in this continuity (even if his delusions can cause him to project and misinterpret his findings, i.e. assuming that Bruce purposefully went bankrupt so that Riddler and the other Arkhamites would have to live in Wayne Manor and be reminded of him every second of every day). Batman Annual #4 has a great example of this where Edward reveals that he knows about how Bruce tried to treat his paranoid vigilante compulsions with shock therapy when he was a teenager. No one but Alfred and the doctors know about that — and I’m just assuming that Alfred knew, it’s not something that was stated in Zero Year.

Bruce obviously solves pretty much every riddle that Edward puts in front of him, but he picks up on the stuff that Riddler is purposefully trying to obscure too. Whether he was researching Edward ahead of time (likely) or just so good at snap psychoanalysis he should have a job at Arkham (possible, Zero Year was written by Scott Snyder), his summary of Edward’s life during their first interaction as Batman and Riddler in Batman #31 is clearly too accurate for Edward’s comfort, as it ruins what had previously been excitement on Riddler’s part that Batman was still alive. 

So good luck to both of them at hiding absolutely anything from each other. The best they can hope for is if WHEN the other person finds what they’ve been hiding, they misinterpret either the information or the reason why it was hidden from them in the first place. Both of them are always willing to jump to the worst case scenario (which, given who they’re dealing with, fair enough), so I’m sure the resulting miscommunication would be both extremely entertaining and highly likely to lead to city-wide destruction.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

Does New 52 Riddler even have friends? He and Scarecrow claim to have respect for each other in Detective Comics ft. Scarecrow #23.3, but it’s in the context of Scarecrow lying and manipulating all the rogues in the lead up to Forever Evil, and it comes about three panels after Riddler passive aggressively mocks Jonathan’s childhood trauma at the hands of his “daddy.” (Rude, Edward. Rude and gross.)

If they are friends, then the reasons why Riddler dating Scarecrow’s arch nemesis would annoy Jonathan are pretty self-explanatory. Also Edward is clearly the kind of person who would taunt the rest of the Arkhamites with any privileges earned/information gleaned from getting closer to the Bat. When I was younger my mother would always warn me not to waste emotional energy on girls who ditch their friends to prioritize their relationship as soon as they get a new boyfriend. Well, Riddler is that girl.

Bruce’s friends and family obviously also have nearly infinite reasons to be annoyed with Bruce for dating a supervillain (shoutout to Duke Thomas, who was unfortunate enough to have Riddler’s Zero Year during the most formative time of his childhood), but Barbara Gordon would doubtlessly be more pissed than most. Riddler deciding that he’s in love with Batgirl out of the blue (despite them never having met before?) when he finds out that Batman’s marrying Catwoman was already irritating, but I can only imagine how much MORE annoying it would be in the context of Riddler later hooking up with Batman.

If Barbara ever found out about them hooking up, she would immediately have war flashbacks to Batman: Prelude to the Wedding pt. 3. She has a great memory so unfortunately she probably has perfect recall of having to spend an entire evening listening to a pre-recorded monologue of Riddler philosophizing about why he’s not bitter that Batman and Catwoman are getting married and how he’s still straight even though he’s never felt lasting attraction to a woman. And then she would rightfully go apeshit.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Thinking of how this question could possibly be answered from Bruce’s perspective made me laugh out loud, which is probably not a good sign given that I’m 4/5 of the way through writing a ship meme for him and Edward. But Riddler is just. So much in the New 52. Okay, I’m taking it seriously now. WHY DOES HE FALL MORE IN LOVE. Well, the fastest way to Bruce’s heart (other than being an attractive woman with dark hair, green eyes, and ambiguous morals) is to assist him in his crusade against crime. While that doesn’t initially seem like something Edward would do (as we see in Batgirl vs. Riddler, he seems to think the key to romance is “mixtapes”), he does go out of his way to give Bruce information about a Gotham-wide criminal conspiracy in Batman Eternal #39. He doesn’t appreciate that Batman’s current opponent is actively trying to wear him down — he wants to fight the Bat at his best, when he can think clearly. So he gives Bruce information he needs to solve the mystery.

Edward seems to also be under the impression that this would endear him to Batman, because he gives Batman a series of riddles that lead Bruce right to him so that they can talk in person. And then gets very surprised when Bruce subsequently arrests him. You’re still a criminal, Edward. This is like the first favor you’ve ever done him. Do it a dozen more times and then MAYBE you’ll start getting the free passes he’s been handing out to Harley and Ivy. But Bruce DOES save him from an avalanche after this, even though in the past Bruce has left him to die out of apathy (The War of Jokes and Riddles) or actively tried to kill him (also The War of Jokes and Riddles). So Edward IS winning him over, just very, very slowly.

Riddler pretty obviously just enjoys having someone to talk to that he feels is “on his level.” Even though he’s already arranged for Bruce Wayne’s assassination by the first time they meet in Batman #39, he obviously enjoys conversing with someone who can and will unravel his riddles and double meanings, to the point that afterwards he musingly wishes that they’d have an opportunity to talk again. Obviously they do, but it’s no thanks to Riddler. You can just NOT assassinate someone if you think they’re hot, Edward.

It’s what seemingly endears him to Batman too (at least, until Bruce ruins the mood by calling him an attention whore in front of all of Gotham). Though it’s basically always bad news for him, Edward clearly enjoys any time that Bruce or Batman exhibits his intelligence. 

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (iii)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 7.5k

warnings: angst, language, yearning for a man in his 70s (c’est la vie, i guess), over-describing a moment i’m very passionate about (sorry, not sorry! ten points to the person who can tell me what moment it is LOL)

a/n: wow—this gif? yeah, match made in heaven. thank you all so much for indulging me in this mini-series. i really am very proud of this silly little thing & i’m sad that it’s over because i enjoyed writing it so much. thank you to @im-an-adult-ish​ & @deacyblues​ for helping me work out the rough spots in this one. would love to hear everyone’s thoughts because i’m very ~emotional~ about this mini-series!! xoxo.

part i, part ii

in this final chapter: you must adjust because it’s not in your cards to be with him, is it?

you run your hands down your face, feel the ring on your finger catch along the end of your nose, and sigh. two months—two months without him. two months to adjust to world you once knew but happily left behind. two months to gather the pieces of the life which cruelly slipped through your fingers like water. 

each day is the same. you rise early and take your coffee on the postage stamp terrace outside your flat. you watch the sun climb higher in the sky with each passing moment and let the warmth of your drink soothe the ache in your soul. you wash your breakfast dishes, mumble a good morning to rachel when she exits her bedroom to make her way to the shower, and dress for the day. you walk to campus if you have a class or take the underground to the museum if you have a shift. you come home, eat dinner, go to bed. repeat.

if rachel notices a change in you, she doesn’t say anything. in her mind, no time has passed between the morning where she asked you to come to the pub and the same evening you tumbled into the flat, drenched and sobbing. 

but you—you’ve lost a year of your life. there’s no getting it back, and the only thing that proves it really truly happened is the ring on your middle finger, the necklace hanging by your heart, and the undeveloped rolls of film in your bedside table.

there are few words to describe the unbearable pain in your chest. anything and everything reminds you of brian: the whisper of the breeze in the autumn-heavy trees; the feeling of your warmest cardigan around your shoulders; the sound of someone laughing in the museum.

but there’s more:

the scent of cigarette smoke reminds you of roger. the sight of two friends ribbing one another in a grocery store reminds you of crystal. a colorful jacket makes you think of freddie, a whispered snide remark takes you back to john, and two girls giggling reminds you of giddy moments with anna.

around every corner you turn there’s a memory you cannot avoid, and it hurts—desperately, keenly, deeply.

so you push it all away and soldier on, quiet and downtrodden. it’s easier that way. maybe, if you forget, you can move on and make it through life without him.

six months after you’ve left brian behind, you’re approached by your boss at the museum with an opportunity you’d only ever dreamed of: the chance to create and prepare your own exhibit. 

monica is firm when she offers you the south wing to reshape as your own. “blow this out of the water, [y/n], and there will be a job as assistant curator waiting for you after graduation. i want something fresh and exciting. think you can manage?”

you agree without hesitation.

for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this is your chance to put everything you’ve learned to good use, to put something tangible in your portfolio, to make a name for yourself. 

you’re buzzing with excitement and have to practically hold rachel hostage as you spout your myriad of thoughts and ideas. she’s your sounding board, even if she doesn’t want to be, but she’s honest where it counts most, and you’re grateful for that.

she glances over the kitchen table, laden with open magazines, cutout photos, and history books. her brow puckers. “this is... really boring, [y/n],” she says with a cringe, looking up with her blue eyes and freckled face.

your shoulder droop. “that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”

she shrugs and reaches for a photo, inspecting it with a critical gaze. “i mean, ancient textiles might be interesting to you and maybe five other people, but it isn’t exactly blowing me out of the water.”

dropping to the seat across the table, you huff. “well, we’re a photography museum, rachel. it’s not like i can whip up a few outfits and put them on mannequins.”

“excuse me, but fashion design is just as artistic as curating a museum—if not more so.” she sighs and puts the photo of a thirteenth century chinese table linen on the table. “there must be something else you’re interested in? something that other people will like just as much?”

you don’t mean to, but you let your eyes trail to the camera sitting on on the tv stand. you’d left it there after your return, uncertain where to put it. sometimes you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye and then you remember the tubes of film in your bedroom, undeveloped and unseen. 

rachel follows your gaze. “you know, you never told me where you got that.”

“it was a gift.”

“oh really? from who?”

you’re slow to answer. the truth sits on the tip of your tongue—the man i love, the man i was going to marry—but you bite it back. “my great-aunt. she left it to me... in her will.”

you aren’t sure what compels you to retrieve the six rolls of film from your bedroom, but you do. the tubes feel heavy in your palm and clang against the table as you put them down. rachel looks at them then back at you, waiting.

“she gave me these, too.”

“i didn’t know you had a great-aunt.”

“we weren’t close.”

“obviously you were close enough to get these things.” rachel lifts one of the tubes, turning it over in her palm. “wonder what the pictures are.”

“i’m not sure,” you lie. “maybe they could make an exhibit.”

“i think you’d have to develop them first then make that decision.” she rises from the table and shrugs on her coat. “i’ve got a date, so don’t wait up. and try not to let this consume you too much? you’ve been down and out lately. i think the work will do you good, but don’t let it take over, yeah?”

you nod and wish her well on her date. she leaves the flat in a flourish, leaves you to the tubes of film and the growing curiosity in your stomach.

you really should get them developed. if not for an exhibit, then for yourself. an entire year of your life is in those tubes, and you deserve to see the photos you’d taken to preserve that time.

it’s been six months. you’ve purposefully distanced yourself from anything and everything related to queen, be it a simple news story, a song on the radio, or any of roger or brian’s social media posts. it hurts to see them, to know that they’re so close yet so far away, that they have no idea what became of you all those years ago in japan.

still, it’s been six months. developing the film might be your first step toward a sense of closure. you don’t want to stay in your rut forever. though you’re comfortable with the idea that brian might be your great love and you’ll never find another, you know you can’t stay as you are, sullen and despondent. it’s like a break-up, really. you’re sad, heartbroken over the loss, but you know it’s time to step out of the hurt and into something different.

before you can stop yourself, you grab the rolls of film, your purse, and your jacket, and you head for the nearest photo shop.

a few hours later, you return with a heavy packet of freshly-printed photographs and a usb drive full of digital scans. there’s over two hundred photos to sort through, and you’ve yet to see one. 

flipping on the light to your living room, you sit down beside the coffee table, a glass of wine at your side, the table cleared of any lingering books or empty teacups. before you open the packet of photos, you open your laptop and type your search into the search bar. if you’re going to quell your curiosity tonight, you might as well quell all of it, and you’re dying to know what happened after you left. 

a simple internet search confirms what you already know: your presence within the group on the jazz tour did not alter any significant events. freddie still passed away, john still retired. a further search yields at least one previously nonexistent queen song written by brian may: “into thin air.” it was released in the album following jazz. you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, not yet. a deeper search unearths an interview brian gave a year or so after you left. the interview was published in a magazine editorial covering of each of queen’s band members and their lives when not on tour or recording. after freddie’s bit, there’s a photograph of brian at the top of a new page. he’s smiling, but he looks weary and he mentions you only once: “i was engaged for awhile, but that ended in an unfortunate circumstance, so to answer your question: no, i’m not looking for love. not right now, anyway.”

you close the laptop and lean back against the sofa. the ring on your finger feels heavy. your eyes fill with unshed tears, and you decide the photos can wait to be seen until tomorrow.

the packet of photos ends up sitting on the coffee table for two weeks before you invite your co-worker, shamik, over for wine and cheese and museum gossip. shamik is kind, a first-generation immigrant from india with personality to spare and an exuberance for all things american. he claims it’s his greatest curse that his parents brought him to britain as a baby instead of america, and it’s something he can never forgive them for. you’ve only interacted with shamik at work, but when you mention your exhibit project, he’s eager to offer his help. with no new ideas outside ancient textiles, you’re willing to take whatever advice or ideas he has.

sitting beside him on the couch, you spread your collection of papers and pictures on the table to explain your vision. he listens dutifully, nodding along, his eyes scanning the 3-d projection you’ve made of what the exhibit might look like once completed. when you’ve finished your spiel, he sets his wine glass down and nods to the packet of unopened photographs on the edge of the table.

“what’s that?”

you frown, shaking your head at the sudden turn in conversation. “sorry?”

he reaches for the manilla envelope. “oh, it’s hefty! what’s in here?”

you sigh and take the packet from his hands. it feels solid in your lap, like a brick. “photos from my great-aunt.”

he points to the sealed flap. “it’s unopened.”

“i haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet.” setting the packet to the side, you raise your eyebrows. “well, what do you think? about the exhibit?”

“honestly? it’s dull. monica won’t be impressed.”

you throw yourself back against the couch with a groan. “what the hell,” you whisper. “i’ve got no ideas then.”

you know ancient textile photography would not be the most enticing exhibit, but it’s been an interest of yours for some time and would be easy enough to complete. shamik and rachel’s reactions do not bode well, you have to admit. having a job as an assistant curator right out of the gate would be beyond marvelous, and you desperately don’t want to screw it up with a boring first exhibit.

“let’s have a look at these pictures from your aunt!” before you can stop him, shamik reaches across your lap for the photo packet and rips open the top. “maybe that will spark some ideas?”

you lean forward, blush already rising to your cheeks as he pulls out the first picture. “oh no, shamik, i don’t know if—”

“holy shit!”

you shut your eyes, wincing.

“that’s fucking freddie mercury!” shamik grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh. “did you know about this, [y/n]? that’s your aunt with freddie mercury!”

forcing your eyes open, you look at the photo trembling between his fingers. it’s a picture of you sitting beside freddie on the tour bus. (you think john took the photo in an effort to get you to stop taking photos of him when he was asleep while roger and crystal placed as many items on his head as they could before he fully awoke.) your head is against freddie’s shoulder, your eyes droopy with sleep. a lump rises in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head in feigned disbelief as shamik continues to shuffle through the photos.

“oh my god, your aunt was a groupie,” he cries, passing you another photo.

“i guess—” you clear your throat. “i guess she was.”

“you know”—shamik sets the pile of photos down and spreads them across the table, obscuring your vision of an ancient textiles display—“this would make a great exhibit.”

“shamik—” your voice is a warning, a sudden surge of anger rising in your chest, but he continues.

“no, really, [y/n]! there are so many photos here that tell such a cutesy little story. i mean, come on? freddie and this cat?” he lifts the photo in question. “it’s stuff people have never seen before from a totally different side of queen. it’s a fucking goldmine!” 

“absolutely not,” you say. “i will not put my aunt’s personal affairs on display.”

“think of monica, [y/n]! think of the job!”

“no, shamik!” you stand from the table and drop your plates in the kitchen sink with a resolute clatter. “i barely knew my aunt, but i know enough to gather that her time with queen was private. she didn’t say anything about it until she died. that’s got to mean something, and i don’t want to air it all out for everyone to see and speculate and gossip about just for my own personal gain.”

you’re shouting, fists clenched at your sides, by the time you finish. shamik just stares at you, his face blank and unreadable. he glances down at a photo. 

“she looks a lot like you,” he says, his voice even.

you huff and take the wine glasses from the table. “we’ve got strong family genes. now, please, i’d appreciate it if you just drop the whole queen thing. we can find some other idea.”

you gather the photos, shove them back in the folder, and toss the envelope in the nearest drawer you can find. the drawer slams shut, and you leave the photos there to gather dust.

you mull over shamik’s idea of an exhibit based on your photos for a month before you finally relent. monica’s riding your ass daily with questions about your progress. you need to get something down on paper for her to give to the contractors, so you begrudgingly type out a response to her most recent email:

monica,

i’ve landed on an exhibit topic at last. took me long enough, right? 

i’ve recently come into possession of a series of photographs taken by my late great-aunt. turns out she was a groupie with the band queen in the ‘70s. my exhibit will be centered around those photos. i’m thinking the exhibit will be titled “queen: unfiltered.” do with that what you will. :)

monica, much to your dismay, loves the idea and sends you right to work on gathering and laying out your vision while she begins the necessary promotion.

it hurts at first—looking at all the photos you took, remembering the way you felt so unearthly happy during that year. you cry each time you sit down to sort out the best of the pictures. the ones which capture a moment of levity amongst the band or are particularly well-shot go in a pile on the left. the ones which didn’t develop well or are too intimate for you to ever consider putting on display go in a pile on the right. your bedroom floor is a mess of drafted captions written on slips of printer paper, photographs with notes scrawled along the back, and used tissues. more than anything, you wish you could step into the world behind those photographs. you want to be back there—with him, with them—until you grow old and gray. knowing you can’t, that you won’t ever see him again, tears you apart inside.

but it helps. the exhibit forces you to acknowledge the time you spent with brian, with queen. instead of leaving the photos in a drawer, they confront you everyday as you sit down to work, and everyday it gets a little bit easier to face your past. as the tears subside, you find yourself laughing whenever you find a new photo of roger’s antics. your heart doesn’t clench as much when you run across another photo of you and brian. you can smile now when you look at his face. he really was so handsome...

you go so far as to frame your favorite photograph of your time together and place it on your dresser. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head. you’re laughing, your hands folded on his arms, legs crossed as you tilt to the side. he’s making a face, his tongue stuck out at the camera, and every time you pass by the picture, you can’t help but chuckle.

you love him still. you’ll love him always.

with three weeks before the opening of the exhibit, the stress is starting to get the better of you. you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick, there’s heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, and you can’t remember the last time you consumed something other than coffee. despite the stress, you feel lighter. working through the photos, laying them out in order, writing the captions, pouring over the faces of the ones you love so dearly—it’s all helped ease the burden in your heart. for the first time in a long time, you slip out of bed in the mornings with a newfound sense of energy and purpose.

life will go on. just as you did when you fell into the past, you will find a new future.

arms laden with exhibit proposals and mock-ups, you brush into your local coffee shop—pretty bird—intent on getting some real work done on choosing the final photographs before you send them off to be printed. you order your usual and take a seat by the front. the air which wafts through the open window at your side is warm with spring and rebirth, and you breathe deep, cracking open the lid of your laptop. you manage to pick a total of twelve of the seventy-six needed photographs before you’re interrupted.

“whatcha workin’ on?” matthew, barista extraordinaire and casual acquaintance, sits down on the bench across from you. he has his own cup of cold brew poised between his lips, and the piercing in his eyebrow wiggles as he moves his brow up and down.

“an exhibit for the museum,” you say, pausing to roll your tight shoulders. “it’s my first.”

“do tell!”

you explain, briefly, how to came to acquire your dead aunt’s photographs and the general theme of the showcase. he nods in approval then snaps as if he’s remembered something.

“hold on. stay right there. i’ll be right back.” he puts his coffee down, scoots off of the bench, and darts to the back of the coffee shop. you wait and listen to the sound of the birds twittering outside before he returns with a framed picture in hand. “i just learned about this,” he says, taking his seat again. “this building used to be a disco back in the 70s.” he hands you the frame and points to a collection of people in the middle of a disco bar. “that’s queen. they came here once and somebody had the smarts to take a picture.”

your hands shake around the photograph, eyes darting from one corner of the picture to another. 

matthew keeps talking. “the place was called climax. can you believe that? the 70s were fuckin’ wild, mate.”

you nod, lips parted, and skim your fingers over the incredibly tall and recognizable form of brian in the center of the photo. you can see your shoulder, jammed between freddie and crystal, but the rest of your body is obscured. you lift your eyes from the frame and glance around the coffee shop, at the exposed metal beams and vaulted ceilings, at the disco ball still hanging in the center of the room.

makes sense now. why the building had felt so eerily familiar back then.

handing matthew the picture frame, you sit back in your chair. “wonder if my aunt ever came,” you say.

“maybe? sounds like she was in pretty tight. you know who you could ask?” you shake your head, uncertain of matthew’s question. “chris taylor. he was a roadie back then. he’s a regular here. comes in at least twice at week.”

you can’t stop the hand that flies to your mouth in surprise. you try to smother your gasp with a cough, but matthew still stares at you like you’ve sprouted another head. 

“you okay?” he asks warily.

nodding, you take a sip of your drink. “yeah, yeah, sorry! wrong pipe.”

“so, do you want to meet him and ask about your aunt?”

everything in you screams to say no. it’s too dangerous. you will surely break the moment you see him. crystal became your lifeline apart from brian during that year. he was your brother, your partner in crime, the one who kept you grounded when things got too wild. just knowing that he’s frequented the same coffee shop as you for the last six months brings tears to your eyes. you could have run into him. hell, you might’ve already. still, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to make it through a proper meeting without spilling your guts and apologizing for the way you left.

“[y/n]?” matthew pulls you from your thoughts. “what do you think?”

you hesitate before shrugging. you speak before you can stop yourself, before the rational and reasonable part of you can take over. god, you need this. if it’s your only opportunity for true closure, you’ll take it. “if he’s up to it then... sure.”

matthew grins. “come in tomorrow. i’ll introduce you!”

that night you toss and turn. you’re plagued with anxiety. will crystal recognize you? if he does, what will he say? will he be angry? what if he tells brian and then—

your bedside alarm goes off just as you fall asleep. it’s a struggle to drag yourself out of bed, but you must. there’s closure somewhere around the corner, and if you just move your ass, you’ll find it. you have one class this morning then your meeting with crystal. you’re jittery by the time you leave class, but you chalk that up to drinking two cups of coffee before leaving your flat and one in class. 

it’s drizzling as you make your way to the coffee shop. you hasten your steps, head bent against the rain and fingers curled around the strap of your bag. when you enter the shop, it’s nearly empty aside from a few lonesome students studying in far off corners. you can hear the faint thrill of music over the loudspeakers, but the blood that’s rushing to your ears blocks out most of the melody.

crystal’s already here, leaning against the counter, in conversation with matthew.

you stop in your tracks. he’s bald now, slightly pudgier with age, but he looks every bit as devilish as you remember.

you swallow past the fear in your throat and the anxiety in your veins and step forward. you voice wobbles when you speak. “matthew?” you direct your entrance to your friend because if you come right out and say crystal’s name, you will surely fall over in a puddle of emotion.

“there you are!” matthew jumps over the counter in one easy leap and lands to the floor beside you. he drapes his arm around your shoulders and motions to crystal. “[y/n], i’d like you to meet chris taylor. chris, this is [y/n], the girl i was telling you about.”

crystal’s staring at you through his blue-tinted glasses like he’s seen a ghost. his jaw has gone slack, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a sentence. 

you shove your hand into the space between you. “nice to meet you, mr. taylor.”

looking between matthew and yourself, he gathers himself, clearing his throat, and shakes your hand. “you too.”

“should we sit?” you motion to the same table you occupied the day before. “i can buy you a coffee for your troubles.”

he shakes his head and lifts his cup. “already got mine.”

“all right, well...” you glance at matthew.

“do you want your regular?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

“comin’ right up.”

crystal follows you to the table and sits down, his movements slow. for a moment, you sit in silence and allow his eyes to roam your face. you can’t tell if he knows it’s you or if he thinks it’s just a coincidence. you want to reach out and take the hand he rubs across the bridge of his nose, but you fold your fingers in your lap.

“thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” you finally say.

“you aunt,” he starts.

“yes, my aunt.” you pull a photograph out of your bag. it’s one of the few you took with crystal all those years ago. he’s got you in a headlock, his opposite fist grinding into the top of your skull. you slide the picture across the table. “you knew her?”

crystal lifts the photo, inspects it, before putting it down. he sighs, shaking his head. “i loved that woman. broke my heart when she left.” his gaze lifts from the table. “you look like her, have her name too.”

you look away, out the window at the side. there’s bird fluttering in a puddle on the sidewalk, and you watch it for a moment before turning back to him. “i think my mother loved her a great deal. i didn’t get the chance to know her, though. we only just found these pictures recently.”

his eyes narrow. “i mean, you really look like her.”

you force a smile. “thank you. that’s kind of you.” shifting, you tap your finger on the table. “i know her leaving wasn’t exactly...” you struggle to find the proper word, but he jumps to assist.

“natural?”

“well, i was going to say easy, but—”

“she fuckin’ disappeared! excuse my language.” huffing, he drops back against his chair. “one minute she was there, the next minute she was gone. i swear, i’ve never seen anyone skip town that fast.”

“she didn’t say anything about leaving?”

“why would she? she was engaged! she had no reason to leave that i know of.”

“was she happy?”

“hell yes. her and brian—i’ve never seen two people more fit for one another. brian just about lost his mind trying to find her, but it was like she never existed. strangest thing.” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, looking askance, before his eyes whiz back to yours. “oh my fucking god.” 

you look up, fear sparking in your belly. “what?”

“[y/n]?”

you blink. your head feels dizzy with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s about to jump across the table and throttle you or hug you so tight your insides might squeeze out of your body.

“fuck,” he breathes. “it is you.”

“i don’t know know what you’re—”

“don’t play dumb with me!” he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “i was the one who got you that phony passport, remember? i always wondered why i couldn’t find your credentials. had to lie my way through it until i got the damn thing. you’re lucky everything was so lax in the 70s.” he shakes his head. “how’d you do it?”

there’s part of you that wants to deny, deny, deny.

but it’s crystal. you can’t lie to him any more than you already have.

“i had no choice in the matter,” you say plainly. “one minute i was here, the next minute i was there, and the next minute i was here again.”

his jaw works back and forth as he processes the information. “does brian know?”

“no—and i’d like to keep it that way.”

“i thought we might lose him after you left.”

you twist the ring on your finger. “if i’d had the choice, i would have stayed. i hope you know that.”

crystal nods. “yeah, i do.” he holds your gaze then motions to your bag. “so, this exhibit matthew told me about. you’re publishing all those photos you took?”

“yes. there are some pictures i’ve saved for myself, but my boss, monica, she got permission from the record label to go ahead with the others. it opens in three weeks.”

“i’ll be there if i can. i’d like to see those pictures.”

you smile, your first earnest smile of the day. “you feature many times.”

he ducks his head like an embarrassed schoolboy. “we were thick as thieves, weren’t we?”

“you and roger were thicker, but i’d like to think i had a part to play some of the time.”

he lifts his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “you know, when i said i loved you, i meant it. not in the way brian did. you were like a kid sister to me. i cared for you a great deal.”

before you can stop yourself, you slip your hand across the table to grasp his worn fingers. his shoulders shake on another sigh, and he lifts his opposite hand to wipe at his eyes beneath his glasses. 

“oh, crystal. i’m so sorry,” you whisper. it hurts to see him cry, to know that you’re the cause behind his pain. 

he waves your apology away, sniffing hard. “i’m just glad to know you’re okay. we thought you might’ve gotten picked up or—” he shakes his head and pats your hand over his, meeting your eyes. “you’re okay, though. that’s what matters.”

“will you really come to my exhibit?”

“anything for you, kid.” he thumbs the underside of your chin with a lopsided grin. “even after all this time, i’m putty in your hands.”

you grin and hand him a business card, which he tucks in the folds of his wallet. rising from his seat, he opens his arms and you practically trip into his hug. he holds you tight for the briefest of moments before pulling back. he pats your cheek.

“i’ll see you in three weeks, yeah? if i stay any longer i’ll end up a sobbin’ mess on the floor.”

you nod. “yeah. and, crystal?” he turns at the door. “don’t tell brian. please.”

he leaves without another word.

the day of the exhibit opening you are equal parts thrilled and a nervous wreck. everyone’s here—your family, rachel, shamik, even matthew. you haven’t seen crystal amidst the crowd mingling in the lobby, but you trust him to show. he’s always been reliable, and you doubt he’ll fail you now.

monica squeezes your shoulder as she passes you by in the staff hallway. “it looks wonderful, [y/n]. consider yourself hired,” she says and hands you a keycard. “i’m going to give you a piece of advice i got when i completed my first exhibit: go have a moment by yourself. look at your work, be proud of it. you deserve it.”

with trembling fingers and a racing heart, you make your way down the corridor to the south exhibit hall. due to a celebratory lunch with rachel the day before, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the room in its final state. in retrospect, you’re thankful for the chance to see it for the first time alone. at least this way, if you cry, no one will have to know.

the door beeps as it unlocks, and you slip inside the room. you descend the handful of stairs which lead into the showroom floor and suck in a deep breath. 

before entering the exhibit, there’s a wall to the side with a simple explanation written in a white font:

queen: unfiltered — this exhibit preserves and presents never-before-seen images of the popular band, queen, through the eyes of an unnamed woman who spent a year traveling the world on queen’s jazz album tour. her images are intimate yet distinctive and offer a personal glimpse into the lives of one of britain’s most well-known bands. 

at the far end of the room hang four banners spanning floor to ceiling. the banners wave gently in the air blowing throughout the room, illuminated from lights on the ceiling and floor. each banner hosts an oversized photo of one of the band’s members in an image that best captures their personality. it took you hours to find the right photo for each man, but you stand by your choice for each one.

there’s john on the far left, head bent as he strums the bass across his knee. his lips are pursed in thought, a line of concentration on his brow.

there’s freddie next to him. he stands in a spanish alley way, cradling a stray cat in his arms. he looks serenely on at the camera, a rare moment of simplicity.

there’s brian sat in an overstuffed armchair, his gangly legs crossed, a book open on his lap. he has the corner of his thumb in his mouth, and if you squint you can see the edge of his tongue.

there’s roger on the far right. he’s smiling at the camera, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. there’s a party hat snug on the crown of his head, pulling the skin of his forehead taut.

on opposite sides of the room, two parallel rows of twelve photos hang in neat order. you decided to have every photograph in the exhibit printed in black-and-white and, in all, you painstakingly picked the forty-eight photos featured in their simple white frames. you walk along the wall, hands clasped at your waist, eyes running over the memories you hold so dear.

the afternoon crystal taught you ride a bike in barcelona: you’re sat on the handlebars after a hard fall, mouth open in a squeal of delight as crystal whips toward the camera.

roger and john tossing an apple back and forth in an ottawa grocery store: john’s smile is broad, the apple caught on film midair.

brian sitting on the floor of your hotel suite: there’s a tray of sushi at his feet, and he’s smiling at you, his hair wet from a shower.

freddie playing the piano in the airport in yugoslavia: he’d been so excited to see one, his shoes had slipped on the slick floor as he ran to it. he’d played dramatically, conducting those around him in a horrible rendition of “god save the queen.”

your eyes sting with tears as you glance about the room. you’re proud of your work. it looks good, professional and elegant, but more than that, you’re proud of yourself for the work you’ve done in mending your broken heart. though you will never live the life you’d once dreamed of, you will always have the memories—and that’s got to count for something.

when the double-doors open and monica ushers the first of the patrons in, you slip into the closest bathroom to wipe at the makeup smudged under your eyes. you’re happy, truly so, and you want to celebrate—celebrate both of your lives as they finally come together.

the room is crowded when you reenter, conversation and gentle laughter mingling in the air. you accept a tight hug from rachel when you see her and the congratulations of your parents. you can’t stop smiling, and you’re sure your face will hurt come morning, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

your parents float away, hand in hand, and you find yourself alone in the center of the room, watching in awe as people you’ve never met look at your photos, at your memories, and nod in appreciation. your chest swells with an emotion you can’t place.

“i think this calls for a congratulations. you’ve outdone yourself, dove.”

you whirl on your heel, lip caught between your teeth in a poorly-concealed smile. “you came.”

crystal grins. the tie of his suit is rumbled and askew, and you reach out to straighten it. old habits die hard. “i said i would.”

“what do you think?”

“i think it’s fantastic. the lads would be proud.”

“maybe.” you shrug. “guess we’ll never know.”

“are you really so intent on staying hidden forever?”

you nod. “yes. it took everything in me to even talk to you. i don’t want to ruin their lives again by popping back up, especially because i’m not exactly old, am i?”

crystal laughs, shaking his head. “you must think you’re hot stuff if a simple hello could ruin a life.” his laughter fades into a simple smile. “now, i know you’re going to hate me and i’m willing to take that, but i did tell a certain someone about the exhibit.”

you can feel the blood drain from your face. “crystal, you didn’t.”

he winces. “i might’ve.”

you slap his arm and curl your fingers into his bicep. “you bastard!”

he holds up his hands in defense, decent enough to plaster a look of contrition on his face. “look, i didn’t tell him the context or what tipped me off. i just told him there was a new exhibit about queen and he was eager to come see. that’s all!”

you swallow hard, uncertain how to respond. “i—” your head twists back and forth in utter confusion. “i don’t know what to do.”

crystal’s face softens, and he nudges your shoulder. “go talk to him. he deserves that much, doesn’t he?”

you can’t argue with that.

giving crystal’s arm a grateful squeeze, your legs shake beneath you as you turn and see him—brian—across the room.

you don’t know how you didn’t see him before. even now, forty years later, he’s still unmistakeable: still tall, still gangly, but his hair has gone white and his strides are slower. the overwhelming urge to tear across the room and curl yourself around his back nearly overpowers you, but you shove it down and manage to cross the floor in slow, even steps. you keep your eyes glued to his back, your hands twitching at your sides. when you reach him and catch a faint whiff of his cologne, the same he wore all those years ago, you have to push back the tears that rise unbidden to your eyes.

you tap his shoulder. “dr. may?”

he circles around, as does his wife anita, her arm snug in his elbow.

brian blinks hard, his brow furrowed in confusion. for a moment, you let him stare at you as you stare right back. his eyes are the same. you’d thought they’d be different, but they aren’t. the realization stuns you silent.

anita glances between you both before smiling sweetly. “good evening, sweetheart,” she says, and her voice is so kind you can’t even summon the slightest bit of jealousy. “i’m afraid i didn’t catch your name.”

“oh, i’m sorry!” you laugh and find that smiling at anita isn’t hard. “my name’s [y/n] [y/l/n]. i created the exhibit. i thought i might come and introduce myself.”

“oh, how lovely!” anita claps her hands together. “what you’ve done is so beautiful, [y/n]. it’s nearly brought a tear to my eye.”

“that’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

“brian likes it too. don’t you, brian?”

he still can’t seem to formulate any sort of response. he’s frozen in place, and your heart lurches for him. to see the woman he’d once asked to marry him, the one so cruelly ripped away, while standing next to his wife... precisely why you never wanted to meddle in his current affairs.

finally, he seems to collect himself. he sucks in a deep breath and nods in agreement. “yes, i do. very much.”

“that means a lot,” you say, easing your smile back into place. “thank you.”

“i’ll leave you two to talk to for a moment. i see crystal hovering in the corner over there, and i’m sure you both have many questions for one another.” anita presses her hand on your arm as she passes. “lovely job, dear.”

she leaves, and you’re left alone with the greatest love of your life.

you wait for him to speak.

“you’re... alive?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“yes.”

“you’re the same age?”

“yes.”

“how did—” he shakes his head. “i don’t understand.”

“neither do i.”

his chin quivers slightly, and he looks away. “i thought you’d been taken or decided to—”

you dare to touch his arm. a spark jolts through your fingers at the slightest touch, but you hold firm. “nothing happened,” you explain. “other than nature righting her mistake.”

“i think—i think i need to sit down.”

“yes, of course. my office is down the hall. it’s quiet there.”

he nods and leans against your arm as you lead him down the hall. in the silence of your dimly lit office, he collapses to the loveseat beneath the window and drops his face to his hands. you hesitate in the doorway until he looks up. tears shimmer in his eyes, and you swallow hard, your smile wavering around the edges.

he stands then, crosses the floor, and cradles your face in his hands. “my god,” he breathes. “it really is you.”

with a laugh, you hold his wrists. “in the flesh.”

“how long’s it been?” his thumb works over your cheekbone and, though you know he should stop, you can’t bring yourself to step away from his touch.

“about seven months.”

he snorts. “try forty years.”

“you seem like you did well for yourself, though.”

he shrugs. “i suppose.”

“you’re happy?”

there’s a heavy pause before he says, “yes.”

“that’s all i want to hear.”

slipping out of his grasp, you put a modicum of space between you both. the air is thick with emotion, and your heart beats wildly against your chest. the love you thought you’d put to bed flares at the mere sight of him, even after all this time.

you drift your finger through the sand of your tabletop zen garden. “i told crystal not to tell you about me,” you admit.

“he didn’t—not in so many words.”

“i know. i’m glad he said something, though.” you pause, meet his gaze. “it’s so good to see you, bri.”

quiet falls over the room as he stares at you. you don’t squirm. you’re comfortable under his gaze, always have been.

“i hope you know i never stop looking,” he says. “even after anita, i kept trying to find you. just to know.”

“and i hope you know that i would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant i got to be with you even for a time.”

your phone vibrates on the desk, skidding across your oversized calendar. you reach for the phone and flip it over before slipping it in the purse hung over your desk chair.

“i’ve got to go,” you admit, crossing to his side. “i’ve actually got a date.”

to your surprise, his eyes crinkle with amusement. “i’m happy to hear it.” he lifts a hand and smooths back the hair from the side of your face. he looks at you with all the love he did forty years ago, and you wish you could take a picture to remember forever. 

but then you remember: you have dozens of photos at home, and it doesn’t seem too hard to let him go now. not after the work you’ve put into mending your heart. you can face this, face saying goodbye for good. you have to, for his sake and your own.

rising to your tiptoes, you place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth—one last touch, for you both. you wind your arm around his neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, brian may. i always will.”

he squeezes you hard against his body, sucking in a ragged breath. “i love you too, [y/n].”

dropping back to your heels, you huff a breath and smile wide. “well, i’d better go.”

“yes, you’d better. don’t keep the lad waiting.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, your hand lingering on his. “okay, well... goodbye, brian.”

he smiles, and it’s the loveliest sight you’ve ever seen. he brushes you cheek with the back of his hand, whispering, “see you later, love.”

dipping out the back of the museum, you walk down the street, purse slung over your shoulders. you think you’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in a long time tonight. 

you hope he can, too.

~*~*~*

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