#maybe i could finally get this chapter written…

[valleynix]

hours of sorrow. here is boy

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

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[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

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[hellodropbear]

chosen.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

isabel is finally adopted

new chapter!!!

as always, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think (good or bad lol) and anything else you want to see :)

~~~~~~

It was something Isabel had been nagging Mapi about for months. Maybe even longer. 

Isabel wasn't stupid anymore, she knew that Mapi had not planned to be her mother. There were other people, and half of her was made of who was supposed to be her father, the man that Mapi spoke so highly of despite getting choked up every time he was brought up in conversation. 

She knew they had died right before she was born and she knew that Mapi was left with a baby that she hadn't actually asked for. 

Isabel knew Mapi stopped playing football until she was older, taking a long chunk out of what would have likely been the peak of her career. 

She knew Ingrid came along later, which is why she had grown up calling her Ingrid. 

She didn't call her Mami, she didn't call her Mama. She called her Ingrid which just seemed so wrong. 

Because Ingrid was her mother, as much as Mapi. 

Mapi had given birth to her, she was a single mother for the first two years probably, until her relationship with Ingrid started getting more serious and both Isabel and Mapi became more and more reliant on the brunette Norwegian that they had fallen in love with so quickly. 

Isabel looked like Mapi, and she carried a few of her personality traits around with her. Outgoing, funny, chatty. 

But Ingrid also raised her, which meant she carried around the Norwegian's calmness, her kindness and her emotional nature. 

She was practically a carbon copy of Mapi on the outside, but anyone who knew her on the inside would say she was the perfect blend of both women. 

So how come she only called one of them Mami? 

Why was it that if she was seriously injured, only Mapi would be called up?

And Isabel wasn't stupid, she knew that Ingrid wished she had been there from the beginning, that her name was written on all of the important documents. She knew that Ingrid wished she was called Mama. 

Not Ingrid. 

When she was younger, Isabel would call Ingrid Mama when she was tired or sad, if she wanted a hug or if she was just feeling emotional. 

It would be in those tender moments and Ingrid's heart would melt every time. It was always in the apartment, hidden away from the rest of the world and just the three of them there together. 

But it never really stuck, and Isabel continued to call her by her first name everywhere else. Her teachers would ask about Mami and they'd ask about Ingrid, her friends would get confused because who is Ingrid?

They all just had a Mami and a Papi. 

Ingrid always thought that Mami and Mama would make more sense. 

So when Mapi knocked on her bedroom door, an official looking document held securely in her hand, Isabel had a very large suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that plastic slip. 

Mapi could tell she knew, the way her eyes lit up and she immediately placed her guitar to the side, sitting up as Mapi moved to sit beside her. 

"Is it them?"

Mapi smiled, tears in her eyes. 

"Yeah, it is."

"Mami!" Isabel practically jumped on her trying to hug her, tears springing from her eyes as well. "Thank you so much!"

Mapi just shrugged. 

"She's your Mama and has been for your whole life, this just makes it official."

"We have to plan something so special! Mami, I can't wait to tell her!"

Mapi laughed softly, planting a kiss on Isabel's head and hugging her in close. 

"We'll just have to make sure she says yes! She might not want to be officially related to a little rodent like you."

Isabel laughed, whacking her mother's side in mock offence and rolling her eyes. 

They both knew that it wasn't true, that Ingrid loved Isabel more than anything else. 

"She loves me more than you, Mami, you're just jealous."

Mapi laughed, silently agreeing. 

She would never admit that though. 

"You wish."

~~~~~~

Isabel spent every minute of the next two weeks planning what would be the perfect surprise for Ingrid, only requesting advice from Mapi a few times. 

It was a photo album that she was creating, filled with just pictures of them as Isabel got older, Mapi only featuring at times that Isabel deemed it absolutely necessary.

Birthdays, christmases, family barbecues, trips to Norway. Summer holidays on the beach. 

Skating competitions, Isabel stood there proudly with the gold medal hanging round her neck, a giddy smile on her face as Ingrid had picked her up despite her rapidly growing figure. 

She had scrolled through all of Mapi's old photos, printing out the good ones and sticking them in the page with stickers and little notes until it was completely full. 

She wrote a letter, enlisting Caro to help her perfect her Norwegian, making her swear to secrecy - the contents of the note were strictly confidential. 

She came up with a plan, something she knew Ingrid would love. A walk to their park was nothing worth being suspicious of, not even when the 10 year old pulled out Bagheera’s carrier. 

It was a family affair, she told Mapi. It would be mean to leave the cat out of it just because she didn’t usually go on their walks. 

It was a nice walk and a nice picnic, planned out to the T by Isabel, down to what colour lined the paper plates and how the fruits on the fruit platter would be cut. 

Everything she did was for Ingrid and if the Norwegian had asked her, she would have been able to explain every single decision in a way that related back to how much she loved Ingrid. 

Perhaps, for that reason, it was best that the papers were forgotten at home, because Ingrid would have been inconsolable if she saw the papers, the photo album and then was explained every single little decision made by her little girl. 

Isabel was disappointed, but Mapi reassured her that the Norwegian would not mind, that her reaction wouldn't change whether she was given those papers on the top of the eiffel tower or in a dump in the middle of the city. 

So the 10 year old waited until they got home and finished eating dinner, only heading up to her room to collect the file once Mapi and Ingrid were sat on the sofa, waiting for their child to return and choose something to watch. 

She couldn't help the nerves that filled up her stomach, the anxieties that began to attack her as soon as the file was in her shaking hand. She almost felt sick as she walked downstairs, spying the back of Ingrid's head, hearing their voices chatting and laughing. 

It took one last push of confidence to walk and stand in front of them, the file held tightly in her hands as she anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels. 

She took a deep breath, realising that everything she had planned to say was long forgotten, instead just brandishing the file towards Ingrid, who took it with an air of confusion as she glanced between Isabel and Mapi. 

"What's this, Is?"

Isabel cowered under her glance, suddenly full of insecurity and self doubt. Would Ingrid even want to be her mother?

She had spent so much time thinking about how much she wanted Ingrid to be her mother, that she sort of ignored the possibility that the Norwegian didn't want that. 

And that would completely break the 10 year old. 

"Just open it." Mapi smiled reassuringly at Isabel, noticing her nerves, before looking over at Ingrid who had completely frozen as soon as she read the first few words on the top of the first page. 

She immediately broke down in tears, her body racking with sobs as she realised what she had just been given.

~~~~~~

"Isabel Leon! We're going and we're going now!" Ingrid was beyond frustrated, the 8 year old not listening to a word she said. Mapi was out of town for the week so they had been left alone together and the child was experiencing a severe case of 'I miss my mum' and it was materialising as disobedience and ignorance of Ingrid. 

"No!" She slammed her door closed for effect, throwing herself on her bed and willing herself not to cry. 

"Isabel, this is important and I can't leave you here. We have to go, you can sulk in the car."

The Norwegian was stood right outside the door, her hands massaging her head in frustration at the girl. 

"No! I'm not coming."

Ingrid huffed, shoving open the bedroom door and picking the ever-growing child up from her bed. 

"Ingrid!" She screeched loudly, almost deafening the brunette. "NO! Put me down, Ingrid, NOW!"

Her words dissolved into sobs as Ingrid continued to carry her until they had exited the apartment, the door locked behind them, Isabel left with no way to get back in. 

"I want Mami, Ingrid, I miss Mami!"

She shook her head, using her hand to guide the child into the lift. 

"Well Mami's gone, so you're stuck with me for now. You're just going to have to make do."

The child lashed out at the words and the contact, flipping around and facing Ingrid as the elevator doors closed. 

"There's a reason you're not my Mami!"

Her vision was blurred by her tears so she couldn't see the hurt that flashed over the woman's face. She only realised later that night that what she said was wrong, that she had been horrible to someone she loved so much for no reason. 

And Ingrid would never admit the reason that she was in tears as Mapi called her that night, alone and wrapped up in bed. 

As she put down the phone, tears still dripping down her face. It wasn’t often that her insecurities returned, but when they did it was like wildfire, quickly spreading and destroying everything good in it’s path. 

Because Isabel was right, Ingrid wasn’t her Mami. She wasn’t her Mama either, she was just Ingrid. 

She was Isabel’s Mami’s girlfriend. 

But if she asked either of the Spaniard’s, they would assure her that she is so much more than that. 

It was with desperation that she tried to wipe her tears away as her bedroom door creaked open, Isabel creeping through the door and silently climbing up onto Mapi’s side of the bed, curling herself up in Ingrid’s side. 

The Norwegian didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the sniffle, her shoulders shuddering subtly.

“Is.” Ingrid’s voice was a whisper and Isabel turned around to face her, eyes puffy and her cheeks stained with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

She took a deep, shuddery breath and nestled her head into Ingrid’s chest. 

“Please don’t leave me and Mami.”

Ingrid frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around the girl. 

“Why would you think I was leaving you and your Mami?”

Isabel shrugged, her voice breaking as she replied. 

“I said that you’re not my Mami, but you are. I was naughty and you were angry and I don’t want you to leave me, Ingrid, because I love you.”

The Norwegian’s heart broke but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and responding. 

“I will never leave you and your Mami. Never ever worry about that because I will always be here. And you were just upset today, you missed Mami and you were angry and sad and said stuff to me that you didn’t mean but it’s ok, Is, because you know it was naughty and you’ve apologised. But please, never ever worry about me leaving. I love you way too much to not see you every single day.”

~~~~~~

“Where is Ingrid, Mami?” 

She had woken up confused, her head sore and her arm in a cast. 

All she could remember was dragging Pina and Patri to the skatepark, showing off her new tricks. They were impressive, for a 9 year old and Mapi worried every day about her little girl flying around the skatepark with little to no concern about her own safety. 

When Pina and Patri had offered to babysit, she specifically told them that if they went to the skatepark, Isabel had to wear all the protective equipment that Mapi had purchased. 

Which she did, the two women making sure everything was on tight, equally as nervous as Mapi tended to be whenever she had to accompany Isabel to the skatepark. 

But whenever Pina or Patri turned their back, she would discreetly shed another protective item, embarrassed and humiliated in front of all the local skaters who wore nothing but their normal clothes and a helmet. 

They noticed, of course they did, but Isabel was too quick on her board for them to catch her and put them back on.

“Pequena!” Patri had yelled, her voice stressed and somewhat angry. “Come back here right now and put this all back on!”

It was rare Patri yelled at her, so the harsh words came as a shock to Isabel, who tried to pull off a spin at the top of the bowl so she could turn around. 

Except it was a trick she hadn’t quite mastered yet, and instead of landing it on two feet, she plummeted to the base of the bowl with a sickening crunch, immediately bursting into tears. 

Pina swore as Patri jumped down to her, scooping her up in her arms and giving her a quick once over. 

Her heart sank when she saw the wonky arm. Broken, easily. 

Pina grabbed the board and followed quickly, jumping into the drivers seat as Patri carefully slid into the back, nursing Isabel’s arm as the 9 year old sobbed in pain. 

“Please, Patri!” She had sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t tell Mami, she will be so mad at me.”

Patri sighed quietly, knowing that Mapi’s anger would be directed entirely at Pina and herself. 

She didn’t tell Isabel that, instead kissing her head and soothing her, whispering quiet Spanish in her ear until her cries weakened and she fell asleep. 

The doctors in the hospital had confirmed the broken arm, as well as a very minor concussion that required monitoring for 24 hours. 

But she woke up, her mother’s familiar tattooed hand resting on her leg, her eyes full of worry and stress as she stared down at her daughter. 

Ingrid, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Mapi had been so caught up in her daughter’s injuries that she hadn’t even considered where Ingrid was having not seen her since that very morning. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok, my lion cub.”

The discipline about her gear would come later. Even if Patri and Pina had disregarded it, she had told Isabel time and time again about it’s importance. Today, unfortunately, Mapi had been proven right. 

She had yelled that to the two younger Spaniards as they waited in the hallway, sending them home with their heads bowed and tears in their eyes. 

For some reason, they didn’t tell her that they had been extra careful all day, Isabel only getting hurt after they had told her to come back to replace all her knee pads. Mapi was so angry, which they had understood. 

They were just upset because she had told them they would never see the little girl again, mapi couldn’t trust two people so irresponsible.

It was dramatic, of course, but Pina and Patri had never seen Mapi so angry before. 

“Where’s Ingrid?”

Mapi sighed quietly, stroking Isabel’s hair back. 

“I’ll call Ingrid, she can come in.”

She did just that, easily dialling the Norwegian on her phone, only having to wait through two rings before she picked up. 

“Is has been asking for you, Ingrid, do you want to come over to the hospital?”

Mapi hadn’t really known where Ingrid was, but her concern about why her girlfriend wasn’t there was sort of pushed to the side as she worried about her daughter’s wellbeing. 

She didn’t expect Ingrid to sound so frustrated, so upset. 

“I’ve been here this whole time, Mapi! They won’t let me up because I’m not on her documents. You’re her mother, not me.”

The Spaniard’s heart dropped, immediately filling with guilt. 

“I’ll be right there.”

She was practically flying down the stairs, grabbing Ingrid by the arm and pulling her into the lift. 

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard for the Spaniard to keep her tears at bay, the emotions of her day catching up with her. But Ingrid broke down in her arms, silently crying. 

“She’s my kid too, Mapi. She’s my kid too.”

Isabel didn’t know why both Ingrid and Mapi were crying when they entered her room again, but she did finally feel at ease with them both on either side of her, swiftly falling asleep as their hands rested on her smaller form. 

~~~~~~

Her first day of school had gone well. Better than well, really, she had loved everything about it. 

Her teacher, her friends, the food, her new pencil case and backpack. 

Everything had been perfect. It was still perfect as she spied her mother standing by the gate, Baloo’s leash in her hand as the young golden retriever stood steady by her side. 

“Mamiii!” 

Her backpack was dropped on the floor as she raced towards Mapi, throwing herself into her open arms and sighing contentedly as she was picked up, her head fitting easily on Mapi’s shoulders. 

“Oh hello there!” 

Mapi smiled, walking over to the abandoned school bag and skillfully bending down to pick it up with one hand, her daughter and the dog’s leash being held securely in the other. 

“How was your day, Is?”

Her question caused the girl to burst into excited chatter, eating Mapi’s ear off with her words as she recounted every possible story from the moment she was dropped off the the moment she was reunited, her words so quick that she was all finished by the time they arrived back to the apartment. 

“I made a friend, Mami!” 

She skipped beside her mother as they walked towards the lift, a grin settled on her face. 

Mapi was impressed, but not remotely surprised. It seemed that her daughter had inherited her own chattiness and confidence, but she was also an inherently happy kid who practically radiated sunshine. 

Mapi never had to worry about the girl making friends. 

So she listened as Isabel told her all about her new friend Sofie, about how she wasn’t even from Spain. 

“She’s from the same place as Esmee, Mami!” 

Dutch, Mapi thought. She wondered what a Dutch family was doing in Barcelona.

She continued to talk about Sofie’s older brother, her mother and father. Her grandparents and her cousins. 

But a small frown settled upon her face, as she looked up at Mapi with an inquisitive gaze. 

“I told her that I have a Mami, but no Papi. She asked who else looks after me because her Mami needs her Papi’s help all the time, so I told her I have an Ingrid, but she didn’t really get it. Because Ingrid isn’t a Papi.”

Mapi sighed, unclipping Baloo from his leash and moving to unpack Isabel’s backpack.

“Come up here, Is.” She patted the kitchen bench in front of her and the girl raced over, pulling herself up onto the bench with a practised ease. 

“You don’t have a Papi, no. But you have a Mami, don’t you?” Isabel nodded her head eagerly, wriggling slightly in her spot. “And who else do you have?”

“I have an Ingrid!” 

Mapi nodded, but gave her a look that prompted her to continue. 

“And an Ale, a Frido, Esmee! Pina, Patri. Leila, even though she lives all the way in England.”

“Who else?”

“Abuela and Abuelo! And tio and tia!” 

Mapi nodded proudly, placing her hands on Isabel’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have a Papi, Is, but you do have so many people here that love you, Ingrid more than anyone. We can’t even remember life without Ingrid, can we?”

Isabel shook her head, frowning. 

“I miss her when she’s away.”

“So do I.”

It was true, the house always seemed so much more quiet whenever the Norwegian had to return to Norway, even though she made by far the least noise out of all of them. She was a popular presence and one that made life so much more enjoyable for the two of them. 

Of course on the other side, Ingrid missed them equally as much and she was absolutely devastated that her national team duties were pulling her away from Isabel as she started school, one of the biggest days yet in her short life. 

But she had missed yet another milestone, just as she was cementing her place as a mother in Isabel’s life. 

“But Is, she’s your Mami too. You know this, she’s Mama.”

Isabel nodded. 

“I don’t think Sofie knew that it was ok to have no Papi because she looked sad when I told her.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell Sofie that you’re ok! You don’t need a Papi because you have a Mama instead. Tell Sofie that families always look different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less.”

She grinned, her head bobbing up and down happily. 

“I love you Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, reciprocating her words without hesitation. 

“Do you want to call Ingrid and tell her the same thing?”

“Let’s call Mama!” 

Mapi smiled with pride, scooping Isabel up in her arms and walking them over to the sofa as she dialled Ingrid. 

And that is where they sat for the next couple of hours, on the phone to their Ingrid, cuddled up in each others arms. 

It was Mapi’s favourite place, only made better when the Norwegian was right there too, her soft skin providing that extra love and warmth that both Spaniards desired so deeply. 

Ingrid was family now. Irreplaceable and incomparable. 

But if you asked Mapi, she would say that Ingrid had been family from the moment she first held Isabel in her arms. 

~~~~~~

Isabel watched as Ingrid broke down, tears streaming down her face and landing with big splats on her legs. 

The Norwegian was always going to be emotional, that was expected. Both Spaniards knew how insecure she was about her place in Isabel’s life, her role in this family. The insecurities were thick, stubborn. They never went away, despite how much Isabel and Mapi tried to cut them out, to push them away. 

The truth was enough for them to withstand any pushing that the mother daughter duo attempted, the facts were all there. 

Mapi was Isabel’s mother, she was the one on the documents, the one who was called if anything happened. She was allowed in Isabel’s hospital room when she got sick and she was the one that Isabel called Mami. 

Ingrid knew she was important, she knew she was loved. 

But she had always been Ingrid, excluding those few treasured times where Isabel had tiredly reached out for Mama. She found everything out through Mapi, she wasn’t even on the email list for her school. 

But these documents changed everything. 

For Ingrid, they changed everything. 

For Isabel and Mapi they changed nothing at all. 

Ingrid’s tears were expected, they were justified. But all she needed to do was look up at Isabel for her to run into her arms, almost toppling her over from her seated position on the sofa with the shear force of her body ramming into Ingrid’s, her arms easily wrapping around her. 

The Norwegian reciprocated the hug, her tears saturating the shoulder of Isabel’s shirt. 

“Do you want to be my Mama?”

Ingrid’s sobs became more audible as she tried to respond, words failing her as she nodded. The tears continued, Baloo looking up in confusion as the Norwegian cried, as Mapi did nothing to console her, instead watching on with a wet smile, tears dripping down her face. 

She was grateful to Ingrid because without her, life would be completely different. Without Ingrid, she would likely be a single mother. She and Isabel would live alone, Bagheera there too but Baloo wouldn’t have been an option if there wasn’t another adult there. 

Ingrid was the first time Mapi ever felt true love, the first time she ever felt like she was loved completely and romantically. The Norwegian made her happy, she made Isabel happy too. 

She had changed their lives for the better. 

Mapi would never be able to thank her enough. 

She watched as Ingrid’s cries softened, as she leant back and grabbed Isabel’s shoulders, looking at her straight in the eyes. 

“I would love nothing more, Isabel.”

It wasn’t long before Isabel disappeared, racing up to her room to grab her gift. As she left, Mapi easily retook her spot beside the Norwegian, kissing away the tears that still fell from her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Maria. I can’t believe it.”

The brunette just shrugged. 

“This is what’s right. You’ve raised her with me, you’re her mother, Ingrid. I didn’t think it was necessary for such a long time but last year at the hospital… it’s important to me that you know it only took me so long because it won’t change anything for me. You have always been her mother, ever since you walked into my life.”

Ingrid nodded, ready to reply before she heard the feet thundering back down the stairs, telling Mapi that they would have this conversation later. 

Shyly, Isabel handed over a neatly folded piece of paper and the photo book, sitting down on the other side of Ingrid as they flipped through it. 

It was how they spent the rest of the night, snuggled up together on the sofa, lots of tears shed as they flipped through the book of photos. 

Isabel fell asleep once they were done, the TV turned on as all three of them were emotionally exhausted, eyes puffy and faces red. Ingrid could only smile, her hand tangling up in Isabel’s head of hair as she slept peacefully on her mother’s lap. 

“My daughter. She’s my daughter, Maria.”

~~~~~~

It was a week of happiness in the Engen-Leon household, the Norwegian radiating positivity as she adjusted to her new role in Isabel’s life. 

Nothing changed, really, except for Ingrid’s security.

It wasn’t even something you could see from the outside, but Mapi knew her well enough to understand how much happier she was, like she had finally been relieved from a weight that she’d been carrying around for so long. It was a relief for all of them. 

The letter that Isabel wrote, however, had been left unread on her bedside table. 

It was in Norwegian, that much she knew. Apparently, the 10 year old had called up Caro to ask for some help with the language, making sure it was perfect before she gave it to her mother. 

It was a bit more than a week later, her and Mapi laying in bed one evening, Isabel fast asleep in her room down the hall. The Spaniard was scrolling through her phone, her spare hand lazily carding through Ingrid’s thick locks. 

The Norwegian was holding that folded piece of paper, staring at it like it held the secrets to the world. 

“Just open it.”

Mapi chuckled as soon as she store what her Norwegian was looking at, the familiar lined paper forever etched into her brain after such a big deal had been made about it. 

“It’s in Norwegian!” Ingrid smiled, looking over at Mapi. “Caro said I should prepare my tissues, Maria!”

“You would have cried if she said ‘I hate you Ingrid I wish you weren’t my Mama’ if it was written in Norwegian.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Mapi chuckled at her own joke, her phone dropping into her lap. 

“It won’t say that though. It will probably be heart wrenching because our girl is smart and has a unique way with words.”

Ingrid flopped backwards onto her pillow, sighing dramatically. 

“I’m going to be sobbing, Mapi.”

The Spaniard could only shrug. 

“Probably.”

It took a few more sighs and a couple more minutes for her to open the letter, unfolding the piece of paper at a painfully slow speed, Mapi just rolling her eyes at Ingrid’s dramatics. 

But the brunette’s eyes glazed over as soon as she saw the first line, neat Norwegian printed onto the page. 

Dear Mama. 

And so the waterworks began. 

I haven’t called you Mama my whole life, but I don’t really know why. You’re my Mama, you always have been. When I talk to my friends, I’ll call you Ingrid, but I will always question why, I’ll question why I call you that. 

I know that Mami was the one who had me, that she didn’t mean to have me and was only left with me because the people who I was named after, Isabel and Luis, died. 

She always tells me not to say that she was left with me because it makes it sound like she didn’t want me, which isn’t true. 

But Mami never had the choice, even if she didn’t want me. She was left with me, a baby. I would have been a lot of work. But she loves me and I love her so it worked and I don’t have any memories of being sad. 

I don’t have any memories of that time at all, really. No memories of anything that happened before you came. 

You had the choice, Mama. You didn’t have to choose to be my Mama. You love Mami and she loves you of course, but she had a baby. You didn’t have to take me into your arms and immediately love me as much as you do. 

You could have chosen that you wanted nothing to do with me, you could have chosen to just be Mami’s girlfriend - a step mother who doesn’t really love her step-daughter. 

But you didn’t choose that. You chose to love me and I chose to love you. 

Somehow, it seems so much more special that way. 

You’ve been there for me my whole life. You took me to Norway with you, the first time I left the country without Mami. You would look after me when she was sad, take me to the park and distract me with toys and Baloo. You were the one who convinced Mami to let me on a skateboard and you were the one who realised that I didn’t like football, taking the pressure off me to succeed at the sport you both love. 

You have been to every school awards night, concert, play. You are always there and I always spot you because you always have such a big smile on your face, one that I like to think is reserved just for me and Mami. 

And I love you so much. You make me so happy and you always have. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose to love me like you do.

Lots of love,

Your daughter Is. 

The tears that had been pouring down her face were hitting her legs as she finished reading, Mapi’s arms pulling her close as she carefully folded the paper back up, putting it in the top drawer of her nightstand. 

“My daughter Is.” She whispered softly and if Mapi wasn’t right in her space, she wouldn’t have been able to hear. 

“Your daughter Is.” She confirmed, using her finger to gently wipe away her tears. “She loves you so much.”

Ingrid could only nod, words once again failing her. 

“We both love you so very much. We are both so grateful for you and everything you do to make our lives so much better.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you thought and send in anything you want to see :)

have a good day!

[hotchfiles]

↪ QUIS UT DEUS? ─ chapter one.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. word count: 1.5K

    In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…

    “Amen.” If you weren’t paying attention and side eyeing him at that exact moment, you might’ve lost the way his lips moved following the ritual, no word actually leaving his mouth. 

    The black haired man didn’t look too comfortable, but didn’t look out of place either, he knew the cues, he spoke the words on automatic it seemed. It amused you to observe people’s behavior on holy grounds, that was part of the reason you asked to meet in silver spring.

    “Catholic, Mr. Hotchner?” Your question is met with a low scoff, the type only those with a bad bad history with the church gave you. “That much, huh?”

    “My parents were.” The answer is simple and you think it might stop at that, but he shakes his head and scoffs again. “I was an altar boy for years before I left for boarding school.” You nod. 

    “Ah. I've met some of you in my research.” Some of you. Church babies, altar boys. Spoon fed the bible from birth while watching everyone around sin. Sin becoming a term to reflect on what they hated. 

    “And you? Catholic?” 

    “Oh no. Never been.” You don’t explain much, aware Emily probably told him of your time in Rome, where the two of you met. “Your UnSub is though. Either devoted to Saint Michael or knows enough about his roles to look like one.” You note, being reminded of the pictures Emily sent you, big stab wounds, a small scale tipped to one side, the words Hebrews 9:22 written in blood. 

    Hotchner doesn’t reply, making a mental reminder of the new information, he looks around the place as you both leave the church and it hits him, Silver Spring’s St. Michael the Archangel parish, the church you chose as a meeting place. 

    He wouldn’t usually accept consultation for cases, especially from outsiders. And to be fair, the BAU doesn’t usually need any, Reid alone has more knowledge than anyone Hotch has ever met, and despite the humbleness he tends to show, Hotch himself can take care of the general book knowledge if Reid doesn’t step up to it. But he trusted Emily, and Emily spoke more highly of you than of anyone. Honestly, he was also trying to make amends after not having her back during the Matthew case they had not long before. 

    “She's in town giving lectures, it’s an asset we have easy access to, so why not use it?” Were her final and most convincing words before Hotch nodded in agreement, watching Emily make the call that led to the meeting. 

    He thinks now, as he’s driving both of you to Quantico, that maybe Emily should’ve been the one here, his attempts to strike conversation falling flat as you don’t even remember the last time you had to make small talk with someone, it felt awkward all of a sudden, as if you were on a date. 

    “I'm so sorry, I'm not too good with… People.” You blurt out after a long minute of silence, your neck suddenly warm from embarrassment. 

    Hotch side eyes you, brows lifted in confusion. You seemed much less confident in the car now than what you showed him of you minutes before back at the church. He figures you felt confident talking about your area of expertise and that he could relate to easily. “Did you notice anything else by the pictures Emily sent you?” 

    The switch of topic makes you sigh loudly in relief and you mentally thank him for brushing your silliness off. “He’s using different pieces of catholic dogma and putting it together, but most of the symbology eludes to Michael, the stabbing looks like a sword, the tipped scale indicates judgment, the verse he chose doesn’t cite Michael but talks about sins being forgiven by the shedding of blood… He’s the judge and executioner of his victims.” You try not to sound excited as you ramble on, it’s a terrible thing to witness, the pictures were grotesque and would’ve made you sick on a normal day, but the cherry picking of symbols the murderer seemed to make fascinated you. 

    “So you believe it’s a man?” 

    “Oh! I–I don’t know? I just assumed… Is that misogynistic?” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but it’s loud enough to make him chuckle and you look at him quickly to make sure it’s not mean spirited. 

    It’s definitely not. But it is amusing from a profiler perspective, he’s so used to defining serials’ genders by their crimes he hasn’t thought about misogyny being a factor to those assumptions in a long time. 

    “Brutality suggests male. But posing looks remorseful, theatrical…” His grip on the wheel tightens, two victims by now, feet crossed, arms wide open. 

    “If there were more allusions to the crucifixion, yeah, but I–” You take your phone out to look at the pictures once more, an attempt to seem less abstract in what you’re about to say. “No crown, no nails, this isn’t about Christ, it’s about punishment–I mean, I think.” You’re not usually self conscious about your knowledge but inferring characteristics and desires to someone by looking at a crime scene was not your specialty. 

    “To further point they were judged and executed…” Hotch nods, understanding where your line of thought is going and completing it immediately, not leaving you much time to doubt yourself. 

    “A very shameful execution.” 

    You both spend the short ride from Silver Springs to Quantico going over the symbology present, you tried to help here and there with the associations of what you saw to who could’ve done it, even though that was not what you were called in for. Strangely enough—for him at least, Hotch didn’t seem to mind your guesses, they were educated ones.

    And it was interesting to hear someone speak with such passion about religious aspects without any of the fundamentalism. It was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

    “Mi amore!” Are the first words you hear as you enter the famous bullpen from Emily’s texts, her arms surrounding you in a tight warm hug you haven’t felt in years—it hits you then how long has it been. You weren’t able to come and mourn Matthew with her, his parents weren’t fond of you either (Lord almighty, you didn’t even go to church with them!) and you were busy with your lectures.

    “Hey troublemaker, how’s it going?” Your question is muffled in the hug, your hands clasping together behind her back.

    The reunion doesn’t last long, curious eyes set on you two and a rather impatient Hotch leading the way to what you learned was the conference room.

    The briefing room. The round table. Emily told you about it when she first got into the BAU.

    You end up sitting between Emily and who you would bet was Spencer—there’s this sweet kid working with us, he’s super smart, annoyingly smart, but so sweet, he reminds of Matty when we were teens—the lanky boy was the only one with what seemed like naivety enough in his eyes to be the one Emily mentioned back then. 

    Aaron sat in front of you almost, serious, stern, very different from the few chuckles you got from him in the car. This was unit chief Hotchner, the subtle difference was fascinating.

    “Alright, as we know, DC is in trouble, second murder in three weeks.” blonde and gorgeous, you believed that was JJ, there had been no time for introductions, all you could do was try to remember the e-mails and few phone calls you shared with Emily the past years. “Richard Beckett, married, no kids, 27. He works for his father's car dealership.” 

    Pictures show up on the screen, showing the man when he was alive. It’s a punch to your gut, just minutes before you were fascinated by the way this real person was murdered. You’re glad you had a light breakfast by the way your stomach turns.

    “Monica Dawson, divorced, no kids, 53. She’s a counselor at a local school.” The woman continues speaking, with more pictures on the screen. And then pictures of their deaths, side by side. The fascination is completely extinguished then. “Both were stabbed countless times with a large blade. Left in abandoned warehouses posed in a cross position, a tipped scale on their side. Both naked. Both were heavily drugged.”

    “They didn’t have kids, is that a coincidence?” You hear Emily speak up and suddenly you can see all their brains working.

    “Could that be the linking between them? The victimology is all over the place.” Derek. Oh. You’ve heard of Derek. You’ve seen pictures of Derek. He needs no introduction. 

    “Reid, Morgan, go talk to the first victim’s widow. Rossi, JJ, Ms. Dawson’s ex-husband can give us insight on her life. Emily and us—” He gives you a look and you understand he means you, nodding in reply. “Will head to the DC police precinct.” The way Hotch gives orders is effortless, not only his job but his vocation. 

    Everyone listens and agrees quickly, moving and leaving the table, even Emily is fast on her feet, even though she won’t leave without you and him. You stay still, stiff, eyes glued to the screen.

    “Are you alright?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, genuine worry. You didn’t even notice he had stayed behind, but you nod again at Hotch, a question burning at the tip of your tongue.

    “Do you still believe in God, Mr. Hotchner?”

[azurefanfics]

Incoming call from Lover Boy <3

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: A late night call from your lover Wonwoo after successfully wrapping up his second Tokyo concert.

Note: To celebrate Nana Tour coming to an end I decided to FINALLY write the fic idea I’ve had since episode 1. Please forgive my rusting writing skills - it’s the first fic I’ve actually written in years!

“Incoming call from Lover Boy <3”

The familiar nickname flashed up on your screen, causing you to pause in your reading, smiling slightly at the phone. It was just a joke at first - changing your boyfriend’s nickname in your phone to see how he would react, but the sheepish pink blush that painted his cheeks whenever he caught a glimpse of it drove you to keep it that way ever since.

Your phone continued to buzz angrily, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” you questioned, picking up the phone right away. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to call you when he was away, but you knew he’d just wrapped up a concert that night and usually he’d prefer to either celebrate with the boys or just sleep, especially this late.

“Sorry baby, were you asleep?” a familiar face came into view, picking up on the slightly sleepy tone of your voice and voicing out his concerns.

“No, I was just finishing up this chapter, don’t worry. Is everything ok? What happened to drinking with the guys?” you asked, turning your camera on in turn.

“I had a drink already, but I thought I’d turn in early or else I’d be up all night with those idiots. We do fly out at 6 am after all.” The rosy flush that dusted over his features revealed the truth in his statement, as he shook his head fondly at the questionable sleeping habits of his members. “Besides I couldn’t miss out on speaking with you, it’s the highlight of my day.”

This made you smile a little to yourself. Although you’ve never doubted your boyfriend’s love for you, it still felt good to hear that your presence lights up his day in the same way his does to yours.

As you continued chatting about anything and everything - mostly the boys’ antics during the concert - Wonwoo began to remove the remnants of his stage makeup and get ready for bed. You did the same, basking in the moment of shared domesticity despite the ocean between you both. Despite all of the moments you’ve shared together, perhaps watching him sleepily rub his eyes with makeup remover is the most romantic of them all.

Before long, Wonwoo was done cleaning his face and headed back into the hotel bedroom as the two of you chatted. The lights went out with a click and you heard faint shuffling noises as Wonwoo struggled with his clothes. Eventually, he turned on the bedside lamp to reveal himself lying down, shirtless with his glasses on and his head on the pillow.

“You should take your glasses off hun, that’s got to be uncomfortable”, you chastised him, “and that can’t be good for the frames either”.

“No, I want to see you properly”, came the petulant response, “I won’t be able to actually hold you until tomorrow so this is the best I can get”.

“I can’t wait until you’re home.” you sighed. Although it had only been a few days, the pandemic and the fact that you were able to go with them on the last tour meant that times where you’d been away from Wonwoo were few and far between. Although the two of you had been very lucky in that regard, it did make time apart more of a struggle.

“Me neither, it’s not the same sleeping in these hotel rooms without you…”, he sighed. “I’ll be home tomorrow though! Do you have any plans? I know you’re working but maybe we could have a night in? We can watch a movie and order food? Oh! We should try out that new pizza place near ours, you know, the one Mingyu was talking about?”

“Oh yes! He made it sound so good - I’ve been wanting to check it out for a while! We should get extra and then we can have some leftovers for breakfast the next day!”

“…Babe… What are you talking about…. Pizza isn’t breakfast, you monster.” he deadpanned. At this, your cheeks puffed out a little in frustration.

“Breakfast can be whatever you want it to be! You can’t convince me that you had a healthy breakfast every day when you were living with Mingyu!”

As you continued to bicker back and forth about the validity of various breakfast(?) foods, you took a second to admire your breathtaking boyfriend. Even with his face smooshed into the pillow and his glasses askew, his handsome features and plush lips pulled into a subtle smile never failed to make you swoon.

Eventually the conversation turned to your days, catching up on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Although yours was quite uneventful - “just my manager being an idiot, as always” - Wonwoo was full of stories of shopping with the boys earlier that day.

“And then Hoshi just ran away with Coups’ crutches! He was just sat there on the floor pouting!”

As you giggled at his latest story, Wonwoo couldn’t help but join in as well. Your laughter never failed to give him the deepest joy - he would share stories until his throat ran dry, just to see you smile. He’d even endure the endless teasing from his members to buy magazines with his own face on to bring back to you. He didn’t understand why you needed them when you had the real thing - “They’re good to make collages out of, ok? Don’t judge me!” - but he’d dutifully bring them home to you to catch a glimpse of that bashful blush and shy smile of yours.

As your giggles died down, a wave of exhaustion washed over you and you couldn’t hold back your yawn. Despite doing your best to stifle it off camera, your ever attentive boyfriend still caught on.

“Are you tired baby? Sorry for keeping you up, we can always catch up tomorrow instead”, he said apologetically.

“No, no, if anyone should be tired it’s you. You’re the one that just finished a whole concert! Besides, I like hearing you talk. Tell me more about your day”.

At your gentle prompting, Wonwoo launched into another story about Dino’s latest antics. Despite his animated retelling of the members bullying their maknae, you felt calmed by his voice and felt yourself slowly being lulled to sleep. As your eyes drooped further, a gentle “sleep well baby” was the last thing you heard before your eyes shut completely.

—

The next morning you wake up to a text received at 4 am:

‘Sorry honey, we’ll have to take a rain check on our plans today. I’ve been kidnapped’

‘We’re going to Italy. I’ll bring you back some limoncello to make it up to you x’

You wracked your sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of his message before you remembered - Youth Over Flowers! You felt a slight twinge in your chest at having to cancel your date night, but that was quickly overtaken by excitement for your boyfriend, whom you know has never been to Italy before. You had considered visiting together in the past, but you’d never been able to make it work with your boyfriend’s packed schedule. Your boyfriend had rarely been able to go abroad for leisure at all in the past, let alone with almost all his members. The fact that Na PD somehow managed to surprise the boys, despite them losing all hope of the trip actually happening, just made it that much more sweet.

As you set to work looking up restaurant recommendations in Italy to make sure that your boyfriend was able to enjoy his trip to the fullest, a knock sounded on your door. Jumping out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown, you quickly made your way to the door.

“Pizza for Y/N?” It was the pizza place you’ve been wanting to try.

“I don’t think I ordered this? Do you have the wrong place?” you responded, bewildered.

“It was ordered to this address under the name of Jeon Wonwoo. There was a note left on the receipt.” At that your heart swelled, and you accepted the box gratefully from the delivery driver.

As you settled down at the kitchen table with the still hot box, you unfolded the receipt and took in the message your lover left for you.

“Sorry I can’t be there today baby. Please take this as my peace offering while I’m off expanding my pizza horizons in Italy. I hope you have a good day at work, can’t wait to see you soon! 10 days can’t go by fast enough. Please wait for me a little longer love <3”

You smiled softly at the thought of him, bleary eyed, having to pack all of his belongings in a rush, but still taking the time to think of you.

You took a bite of the piping hot pizza covered in your favourite toppings - delicious. Who ever said pizza wasn’t a breakfast food anyway?

[stylesispunk]

"I'll never leave, Never mind"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel met at the hospital that may have sealed your fate.

wc: 16,3k. Longest one I've ever written.

warnings: extreme angst, grieving, death,No proofreading.

a/n: There is no new chapter of 'Silent Strain' tonight, but here is a new one shoot. This is a sad sad and rushed one and it was heavily inspired on 'we live in time' cuz florence and andrew content made me think on it a lot. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Joel and you could have said that fate has its way to interlock threads among people.

Some people met through friends at a party.

Others had their long way from kids, from friends to lovers and getting married.

And others met by coincidence,

When both of them ended up with a broken arm and broken fingers in a hospital.

One breaking up with his lifetime girlfriend.

The other foolish being cheated on.

Joel was leaning back in the chair, his arm in a sling, his expression was pure irritation and pain. Across from him, you sat cradling your bandaged fingers, the sting of adrenaline still fresh from your impulsive decision. The silence felt strange and weird, after all everything was a dream engulfed in fire.

You glanced at the man in front of you, studying his profile, he way his brow furrowed slightly, the tension in his jaw. He caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow in question. Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, you blurted out, "What happened to your arm?"

Joel’s eyes flickered to his sling, a small, almost amused smirk playing at his lips. "A bar fight," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "Didn't go quite like I planned."

"Sounds like it wasn't your night," you replied, trying to suppress a grin.

He chuckled softly. "You could say that." Then, nodding at your bandaged hand, he added, "What about you? Those fingers look pretty messed up."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to tell the truth. "Punched my ex," you admitted finally. "Turns out, hitting someone with rings on isn't the smartest move."

Joel's grin widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both dissipated. "What about?," he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"cheating" You said, with a lazy smaile.

You both gaze at each other, still unaware that the woman your ex had cheated with was Joel's ex-girlfriend. Fate, or maybe the universe, had twisted your lives into a messy knot, and the hospital room was just the start of what would prove to be an unexpected connection between two strangers meeting at a hospital for the first time.

"How can people do that to you?." His gaze grew distant, him not saying the truth behind the statement and you wondered what ghosts were lingering in his past. The thought that you might be more connected than you realized hadn’t crossed your mind yet, but somehow, it felt like this conversation was meant to happen.

"So, what happened?" you asked, a little softer this time. "With the bar fight, I mean."

Joel shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a lopsided smile. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he replied. There was a hint of challenge in his tone, as if daring you to ask more.

"Try me," you shot back, leaning forward slightly.

He chuckled, more to himself than to you. "Alright, then. I walked into a bar to clear my head. Turns out, my ex was there, drinking with some guy who looked like he thought he owned the place. Words were said, and, well… my fist got to know his face better than I planned." He winced, probably at the memory or the pain radiating from his arm.

"Your ex?" you echoed, a strange feeling creeping up your spine.

"Yeah," Joel said, nodding. "She was the reason I needed a drink in the first place. She cheated and we broke up, but seeing her with him… didn’t exactly help. And before you ask, no, I don’t know why I still care." There was a bitter edge to his words, one that made you think of your own ex and the anger still simmering in your chest.

You were about to respond, maybe tell him that you understood too well, when the door to the waiting room opened, and a nurse stepped in. She glanced between the two of you, holding a clipboard. “Mr. Miller?” she called, and Joel raised his good hand.

"That’s me," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grimace. The nurse gestured for him to follow, but before he could move, he looked back at you, a strange expression crossing his face.

“Maybe when I’m back, we can still have this conversation” he suggested, a hint of a grin returning.

You nodded, feeling a pull toward him that was hard to ignore. "I’d like that," you replied, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

You had just turned to leave when you heard Joel’s voice behind you.

"Hey," he called out, a little hesitantly. You stopped in your tracks and turned back to face him.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not the type to do this often. "I was just thinkin’... I don’t really wanna leave things like this. Mind if I get your number?"

For a second, you were caught off guard. Joel, tough and reserved, asking for your number? It felt like one of those moments where the universe gave you a choice a small step toward something unknown but maybe worth exploring.

You smiled, this time a bit more genuine, and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Pulling out your phone, you exchanged numbers, the simple act suddenly feeling like a big deal, like some invisible line had been crossed.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again, and for a moment, there was that same unspoken connection between you.

"Guess I’ll see you around," you said, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

Joel gave you a small, almost shy smile. "Yeah. I’d like that."

With one last glance, you turned and walked away, feeling a little lighter than before. And even though you had no idea what would come next, there was something about the way Joel had stopped you that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

A new friendship,

A new story,

A new romance.

You didn't know, but there was a good feeling about those big brown eyes of Joel when he looked at you.

Joel had met a girl who made him feel at ease, like being bathed by the warm sun of a chilly autumn afternoom.

And you, you had met a man who made you believe not everyone wanted to hurt you.

Something like golden in color, something like dawn being seen from the beach.

Pure, fearless and sweet.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day kept replaying in your mind. Meeting Joel, the strange connection, the shocking revelation about his ex—it was all too much to process. You turned over, trying to let sleep take over, but your mind wouldn’t settle.

Just as you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You blinked in the darkness, surprised anyone would be texting this late. Grabbing your phone, you saw Joel’s name light up on the screen. Your heart did a small, unexpected flip as you opened the message.

Joel: Hope I didn’t wake you. Just wanted to say… It was really nice to meet you.

You stared at the message, feeling a warmth spread through you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, just a simple, honest text. And yet, something about it made you smile in the quiet of your room.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed back:

You: No, you didn’t wake me. I’m glad we met too. Today was...nice after all.

That's how it started between the both of you.

It was coincidental.

It was legendary.

Three months after talking, two months after running after each other and hanging out.

Joel finally asked you out on a date.

Joel stood in the doorway, scanning your coffee shop before his eyes found you behind the counter. For a split second, the same look of surprise crossed his face as it had the day you first met, like he hadn’t fully expected to see you here. But then his expression softened, and he gave you a small nod as he walked toward the counter.

"A cup of coffee, Miller?" you asked with a grin, trying to hide the flutter of nerves that came with seeing him.

Joel scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable, but there was something different in his posture today, like he had something in the back of his mind . "Actually… I was hoping..." he beganhis voice low and a bit hesitant.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'What?"

He took a breath, looking almost shy for a man like him, and you could see him working up the courage. "I was wonderin’ if you’d want to go out sometime. Maybe grab a drink or dinner." His eyes locked onto yours, and despite the casual tone, there was a weight behind his words, like he’d been thinking about this since the last time you saw each other.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. The idea of Joel, this tough, guarded man, asking you out felt both surprising and strangely right at the same time.

"You want to take me out?" you asked, making sure you hadn’t misheard.

Joel gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Yeah, I do. I mean, if you’re up for it. Something fancier, just… somewhere that isn't your coffee hop or a hospital hallway."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. His awkwardness was endearing, and there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t playing games—this wasn’t just about grabbing a drink. It felt like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you.

"Sure," you said, your voice soft but certain. "I’d like that."

Joel’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he smiled, a real one this time. "Alright, then. How about tomorrow night? I know a good place."

"Tomorrow sounds great," you replied, trying to ignore the excited flutter in your chest. "Just let me know where."

"I will," Joel nodded, and for a moment, he just stood there, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

As he turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you with that same small, shy smile. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you watched him walk out of the shop. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

The next evening, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your red dress. It was simple, elegant, and just a little daring, something you hadn’t worn in a while. There was a nervous excitement bubbling inside you as you got ready. It wasn’t often you went on dates, and certainly not with someone like Joel.

As you approached the restaurant, your heart raced a little faster. The soft glow of the lights spilling out onto the sidewalk set a warm and inviting tone, but it was the thought of seeing Joel that had your nerves on edge.

When you stepped inside, scanning the room, you saw him right away. Joel was seated near the window, dressed in a dark button-up shirt that suited him well, though it still carried that ruggedness you’d come to associate with him. His head was down, focused on the menu in front of him, unaware that you had arrived.

But then, as if sensing your presence, he looked up—and his reaction was instant. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. Joel sat there, frozen for a moment, his eyes taking in the sight of you in the red dress. He hadn’t expected this. The sight of you knocked the air right out of his lungs.

You caught the way his mouth hung open just a bit, the look of awe in his eyes. It was as if, for a second, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You smiled shyly, stepping toward him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze.

Joel stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair back in his haste. "Wow," he breathed, barely managing to find the words. "You… you look incredible." His voice was low, almost reverent, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a little bashful under his gaze but also enjoying how flustered he seemed. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

Joel chuckled, but his eyes remained on you, still taking in the way the dress hugged your figure, the way the soft light from the restaurant made you glow. For a man who was usually so composed and reserved, he was completely undone by you tonight.

As you reached the table, Joel moved to pull out your chair, a little clumsily, but his gesture was sweet. "Here, let me," he offered, still looking at you like you’d just walked out of a dream.

"Thanks," you murmured as you sat down, glancing up at him with a smile. He was still standing, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally sat across from you.

For a few moments, Joel was quiet, his usual gruffness replaced by something softer, almost tender. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slightly as if trying to process what he was feeling. "I wasn’t expectin’ this," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "You look… I don’t even have the words."

You laughed softly, feeling the tension ease between you. "I’m glad I could surprise you."

Joel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "You did. And I’m real glad you’re here."

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed easily, and despite the initial nerves, you both found a rhythm. Joel’s lingering stares, his quiet admiration, the way his eyes softened every time you smiled—everything felt charged with an undeniable connection. There was something between you, something unspoken but very real.

And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but wonder if the universe really did have its own funny way of pulling people together.

It felt like a movie. Waking up next to Joel felt like living inside a dream you never wanted to end. Each morning, as the sunlight spilled through the curtains, the reality of it all washed over you, how something that started so unexpectedly had grown into this, something solid, something that felt like home. It felt like a movie, the kind where everything was beautifully imperfect, but just right in all the ways that mattered.

You turned in bed, watching him sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. There was a calmness in his face, a softness that most people never got to see. His hair was a little messier, a few strands falling into his eyes, and you reached out gently, brushing them aside. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, smiling as you traced a finger along his arm. "Feels like we’re in one of those romantic comedies, doesn’t it?"

Joel chuckled softly, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Except I’m no prince, and you didn’t have to kiss a frog to get me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the truth was, every day with Joel felt like something special, like fate had somehow woven your lives together in the most unexpected way. You thought back to that first day in the hospital when you’d both been broken in different ways, and now, here you were, piecing each other back together.

"You say that like you’re not the most decent guy I’ve ever met," you teased, settling back into his arms.

Joel tightened his hold around you, his fingers brushing through your hair. "You give me too much credit."

"I don’t think I give you enough," you replied softly, your voice laced with sincerity.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you with those deep, soulful eyes, the kind that always made you feel seen, really seen. Joel was never one for flowery words, but his actions spoke volumes—the way he looked after you, the way he showed up for you, every single day, even when he didn’t need to.

"Can’t believe it’s been a year," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me neither," you admitted. "Happy anniversary" you said, kissing all of his face.

Joel smiled as your lips brushed across his face, his eyes closing briefly as he soaked in the tenderness of the moment. "Happy anniversary," he murmured, his voice low and warm, as if the words held more weight than he could fully express. His hands slid up to cradle your face, pulling you closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You’ve made this past year somethin’ I never thought I’d have again,” Joel whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the small, intimate gesture sending warmth through you. “Never thought I’d feel this way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You deserve it, Joel. We both do." You kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, trailing kisses along his stubbled jawline. "I’m lucky to wake up next to you every day."

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself. "Feels like I’m the lucky one.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. "I guess we’re both lucky, then."

Joel gazed at you, his eyes soft, filled with an emotion that words couldn’t quite capture. "Don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered, his voice just a little rough around the edges.

"Good thing you don’t have to find out," you teased, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering, as if the moment itself held a promise. The world outside the bedroom didn’t matter, not right now. All that mattered was this, the quiet love that had grown between you both over the past year.

The kind of love that, even in its simplicity, felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Later that morning, you and Joel stood side by side in the kitchen, working in comfortable silence as you prepared breakfast together. The smell of coffee filled the air, and the sound of sizzling bacon accompanied the quiet hum of morning. Both of you had decided to take the day off—no work, no interruptions—just a day to be together and celebrate your anniversary.

As you stirred the eggs, Joel suddenly cleared his throat, drawing your attention. You glanced over to see him watching you with that familiar, warm smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "I’ve been thinkin’ about somethin’." He flipped the bacon, pausing for a moment, almost like he was searching for the right words. "I know some people think we’re movin’ fast—bein’ together the way we are after only a year."

You set the spatula down, turning to face him fully. You’d heard the comments before—friends and family making subtle remarks about how quickly things had progressed between you and Joel. But none of that had ever mattered to you. It felt right.

"And… what do you think?" you asked gently, curious where his thoughts were leading.

Joel looked at you, his expression serious for a moment, before it softened into something deep, something real. "I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever been," he admitted, his voice steady. "And I don’t care if people think we’re movin’ too fast. Everything just feels right with you." He set the pan aside and stepped closer to you, reaching out to gently cup your face.

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you in the best way possible. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world. And in that moment, you realized just how much you meant to him.

"I’ve got a surprise for you," Joel added, his voice a little softer, and there was a glint of nervousness in his eyes—something you didn’t see from him often.

"A surprise?" you repeated, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "What kind of surprise?"

He took your hand, leading you away from the stove and into the living room. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness to the way he held you, like he was holding something precious.

Joel stopped in front of the couch, turning to face you. He reached into his back pocket and, for a moment, your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he pulled out a small box, and as he held it in his hand, you realized exactly what was happening.

Your eyes widened, and you brought a hand to your mouth as Joel got down on one knee, looking up at you with that same earnest, loving expression.

"I know it’s been a year, and I know some people might think this is crazy," he began, his voice steady, though you could hear the emotion in it. "But I don’t care about any of that. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life." He opened the box, revealing a simple but beautiful ring. "You make me feel like I’m home, every day. So, I’m askin’… will you marry me?"

Your heart nearly stopped as you stood there, mouth agape, staring at Joel kneeling in front of you with that ring in his hand. The weight of the moment washed over you, and before you could think, your body moved on instinct. You dropped to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Joel immediately responded, his strong arms coming around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. The words "Yes, yes," tumbled from your lips, breathless and full of emotion. Without even realizing it, you shifted, wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you securely.

His laugh was soft and filled with pure joy as he stood up, lifting you effortlessly with him. He held you tightly, your legs still wrapped around his waist as you clung to him. "You really mean that?" he asked, his voice a little shaky, but his eyes shone with happiness.

You nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your voice catching as you whispered, "I’ve never been surer of anything in my life."

Joel’s arms tightened around you, his chest rumbling with laughter and relief all at once. "You’ve made me the happiest man alive," he said, his voice deep and full of love.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You smiled; your heart full to the brim. "I guess we both found home."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, "I guess we did."

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Joel gently lowered you to the ground, holding you steady as you found your footing. His eyes never left yours, full of warmth and something even deeper that made your heart swell. He reached for the ring, holding it up with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Now," he said, his voice barely a whisper, filled with emotion, "let me do this the right way."

He carefully took your hand in his, and you watched in awe as he slid the ring onto your finger. It felt cool at first, but as it settled into place, it felt like it belonged there—like it had always been meant to be.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the ring, sparkling in the morning light. It was simple, yet beautiful—perfect, just like the moment.

Joel’s fingers brushed yours as he held your hand, pulling you close again. "Looks just right," he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. His thumb softly traced over the ring, and then over your knuckles, like he was making sure it was real, like this wasn’t just a dream.

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes, but they were happy tears, filled with the overwhelming joy of knowing you had found your forever with this man. "It’s perfect," you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Joel smiled, pulling you into his arms again, his lips brushing the top of your head as he murmured, "You’re perfect."

For a long moment, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other, savoring the silence and the weight of what had just happened. It was more than just a proposal—it was a promise, one that you both knew you would keep, no matter what life threw at you.

A month had passed since the day Joel put that ring on your finger, and it felt like you were living in a dream. Every moment with him was like writing your own love story—filled with warmth, laughter, and the kind of happiness you never thought you’d find. You and Joel had started to create a life together, and it felt like the world had finally aligned in the best way.

That night, as the moonlight spilled through the curtains, Joel was already in bed, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light on him as he flicked through a book. You were in the bathroom, hands trembling slightly as you looked down at the test in your hand. The two lines were unmistakable. Your heart raced, a mixture of excitement, nerves, and disbelief filling your chest.

"Joel?" you called out from the bathroom, your voice a little shaky.

"Yeah, darlin'?" His voice was calm, unaware of the life-altering news you were about to share.

"I… I have to show you something," you managed to say, your nerves bubbling into a quiet, breathy laugh.

There was a brief pause before you heard the rustle of sheets and Joel's footsteps making their way toward the bathroom. The door creaked open, and Joel appeared in the doorway, his brows furrowed in curiosity. "What is it?" he asked, his deep voice laced with concern as his eyes searched your face.

You turned toward him, holding the pregnancy test in your hand, your heart pounding. With a nervous laugh, you held it out for him to see. "I... I'm pregnant, Joel."

His eyes flicked down to the test, and for a moment, it seemed like time stood still. The realization hit him slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief, and then to something far deeper. His mouth opened slightly, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the news.

"You're... pregnant?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, biting your lip, unsure of how he’d react. "I know it's a lot. I didn’t even expect it, but—"

Before you could finish, Joel stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. His face buried into the crook of your neck, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin as he whispered, "Are you serious?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah. I’m serious."

Joel pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face.

Joel lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his laughter mixing with yours as the weight of the news settled in—a shared joy that filled the room. His eyes sparkled with happiness, and the grin on his face was infectious. He held you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he spun you in a small circle, both of you laughing like kids.

"I can’t believe it," Joel said, his voice filled with awe as he gently set you down on the bathroom counter, still holding you close. "We're gonna have a baby."

You nodded, the happiness bubbling up inside you, barely able to contain it. "We are," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "We're gonna be parents."

Joel kissed your forehead softly, his hands gently rubbing your sides. "I love you," he whispered, the words filled with a depth of emotion that made your heart swell. "You and this baby—we're gonna have the perfect story”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but they were happy tears, and you smiled up at him. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’re going to be a family."

He held you there for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then, with a soft chuckle, Joel stepped back, still keeping a hand on your waist. "Guess we better start gettin’ used to this idea. A baby, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with excitement. "A baby."

Joel smiled, still shaking his head in disbelief as he looked down at you. “A baby,” he repeated, his voice soft with awe. "I can’t believe it."

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of becoming a father again. The joy in his eyes was unmistakable. After all the hardships, after all the loss, this was something he didn’t think he’d ever have again—a chance at building a family, a future.

“Guess we’re gonna have to start gettin' the place ready, huh?” Joel said, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "Crib, baby clothes… We’re in for a lot of changes."

You laughed, wiping away the last of your tears. "Yeah, we have a lot to prepare for."

Joel grinned, stepping back and taking your hand as he led you out of the bathroom. "But I’m ready for all of it," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "Every single part of it."

As the two of you stepped into the bedroom, the quiet warmth of the moment settled over you. Joel sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. His hands rested on your stomach, fingers gently tracing over where your baby would grow.

"Just think," he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. "In a few months, there’ll be a little one right here. A part of you and me."

The thought of it made your heart swell with love and anticipation. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I can’t wait, Joel," you whispered. "It’s going to be everything."

For a while, the two of you just sat there, holding each other in the quiet of the night, the future ahead of you bright and full of promise. It was a life neither of you had ever expected to find—but it was yours now, and you would cherish it, together.

Joel kissed the top of your head, his voice soft and full of love. "We’ve got a good thing goin’ here," he said. "And now, it’s just gonna get better."

You smiled, closing your eyes as you whispered back, "Yeah, it is."

Time seemed to pass in a blur after that night. Every moment was a new memory, a new step toward the future you and Joel were building together. As the months went by, you prepared for the arrival of your baby while deepening the bond between you two. Joel was there for every ultrasound, every late-night craving, and every moment of excitement and nerves.

The day you both decided to get married wasn’t a grand occasion but something simple, just the way you both wanted it. You’d been sitting on the couch, going over baby names, when Joel looked at you with that soft, familiar smile and said, “Why don’t we get married before the little one arrives?”

At first, the idea seemed so casual, but the more you thought about it, the more perfect it felt. You didn’t need a big ceremony or an extravagant event. What you wanted was to make things official in the most meaningful way possible, with just the two of you and a handful of your closest friends and family.

The wedding day was intimate, held at a charming little venue not far from home. It was a crisp autumn day, the leaves turning shades of gold and crimson, and you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect setting. Your family and closest friends were there. As you walked toward him, your heart fluttered. Joel, standing tall and proud in his suit, his eyes filled with love and pride, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t believe that this man, who had once been just a stranger, was now the center of your world.

When you reached him, Joel took your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, standing together, ready to face whatever came next.

When you finally reached him, Joel took your hand, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The look in his eyes was one of pure love and pride. He leaned in slightly and whispered, “You look beautiful, darlin’.”

The ceremony itself was short but filled with emotion. Joel’s voice wavered ever so slightly as he said his vows, and you could feel the weight of his words as he promised to love and support you forever.

“I never thought I’d be this lucky again,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever asked for."

Your heart swelled, and when it was your turn, you spoke from the heart. "I didn’t know life could be this good until I met you, Joel. You’ve changed everything for me."

The officiant declared you husband and wife, and Joel didn’t waste a second, pulling you in for a soft, meaningful kiss that felt like the beginning of a new chapter.

“By the power vested in me…” the officiant’s voice seemed to fade as you looked at Joel, your heart overflowing with love. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Joel’s smile widened as he gently cupped your face and pulled you into the sweetest, softest kiss. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in that moment, forever bound to each other.

After the small, intimate wedding, life felt like it had settled into a beautiful rhythm. Every morning you woke up next to Joel felt like a dream you never wanted to end, and as your belly grew, so did your love for the life you were building together.

It was a calm morning a few weeks after the wedding, the sunlight streaming through the windows of your cozy home. Joel had already gotten out of bed to make breakfast, and you could hear the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, feeling content and full of love.

You got up slowly, your hand instinctively resting on your growing bump. The baby had started kicking more frequently, and every little movement filled you with awe. You made your way to the kitchen, and there he was, standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs like he did every Sunday morning.

Joel looked over his shoulder when he heard you approach, his face breaking into a soft, adoring smile. "Mornin’, sweetheart. How’re you feelin’?"

“Good,” you said, wrapping your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Hungry, as always.”

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. “That’s a good sign. I’ve got breakfast ready in just a few minutes.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face as Joel brought over plates of eggs, toast, and some fruit. As you both started eating, Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you, his expression full of love and admiration.

"You know," Joel started, his voice soft and thoughtful, "Every time I see you, like this, carryin' our baby… it just hits me how lucky I am."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "I feel the same way, Joel. I can’t believe how much life has changed for the better. I never thought I’d get to be this happy."

Joel reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb gently caressed the back of your hand as he gazed at you with that familiar warmth in his eyes. "We’ve been through a lot, but every bit of it led us here. And I wouldn’t change a thing."

After breakfast, the two of you spent the day together, enjoying the simple moments that made your life so full. Joel had taken time off from work to be around more as the baby’s due date got closer, and it felt like every day was another beautiful chapter in your love story.

As the evening drew near, you sat together on the couch, Joel’s hand resting protectively on your belly as the baby kicked softly. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a sense of peace and joy. "You’re gonna be such a great mom."

You smiled, leaning into him. "And you’re going to be the best dad."

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand never leaving your bump. The two of you sat there in the quiet, simply enjoying each other’s presence, the future stretching out before you, full of hope and love.

Months had passed, and the day finally arrived. You were in the hospital room, your hand gripping Joel’s tightly as you went through the final stages of labor. The pain was intense, but Joel was right there by your side, whispering encouragement in your ear, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around you.

"You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart," Joel murmured, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His hand was firm in yours, grounding you as the contractions intensified. "Almost there. Just a little longer."

With one final push, the room filled with the first cry of your baby. Relief, exhaustion, and overwhelming joy washed over you as you collapsed back against the pillow. The doctor carefully placed the newborn in your arms, and when you looked down at her tiny face, everything else in the world faded away.

Joel stood beside you, his eyes wide with awe as he looked down at your daughter. "She’s here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hand hovered above her small head before he gently stroked her soft hair. "She’s perfect."

You smiled up at him, tears filling your eyes as you whispered, "Sarah."

Joel’s breath hitched, his gaze softening even more as he took in the name. "Sarah," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips over your daughter’s tiny head. "Welcome to the world, baby girl."

Sarah’s little fingers curled around your thumb as she lay in your arms, her cries quieting as she settled into the warmth of your body. The love that filled the room was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks.

Joel sat down beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders as the two of you gazed at your daughter in awe. "She’s gonna have your strength," Joel said softly, his voice filled with pride. "I can already see it."

"And she’ll have your heart," you whispered, leaning into him. "She’s a little piece of both of us."

For hours, you sat together in the quiet of the hospital room, marveling at the tiny miracle in your arms. Sarah yawned, her tiny eyes fluttering open for the first time, and Joel’s face lit up with a joy you’d never seen before.

"You’re gonna be a great dad," you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder.

Joel smiled, his eyes never leaving Sarah’s face. "And you’re gonna be the best mom," he replied, his voice soft but full of certainty.

In that moment, everything felt complete. The life you had built with Joel had come full circle, and now, holding Sarah, it felt like the perfect beginning to something even more beautiful. The three of you were a family, and nothing could ever take that away.

As you both sat there, watching your newborn daughter sleep peacefully in your arms, Joel leaned down and kissed you softly. "Thank you," he whispered. "For all of this. For her."

You smiled, tears filling your eyes once again. "We did this together."

And as the night settled in, the three of you together, you knew that this, this was everything you had ever dreamed of. A love that had grown into something extraordinary, a family you never thought possible, and a future that was full of hope and endless possibilities.

Time had passed, and life settled into a beautiful, busy rhythm. You found yourself balancing the challenges of raising Sarah while managing your work. Your coffee shop was thriving, and although it wasn’t always easy, the love and support Joel gave you made everything seem possible. Every morning, you’d drop Sarah off with her babysitter before opening the shop, your heart swelling as you kissed her little cheeks goodbye.

Joel and Tommy had built up their construction company together, working side by side like they always had. It was their dream, and they took pride in what they had created. Most evenings, they would come home late, tired but fulfilled, dust and sweat still clinging to their clothes, but there was always a smile on Joel's face as soon as he stepped through the door and saw you and Sarah.

It was a happy life, a busy one. Sarah was growing fast, and every day brought something new—a first laugh, her first wobbly steps, her fascination with the world around her. Joel had fallen completely in love with being a dad, always the first one to scoop Sarah up when he got home, carrying her around on his shoulders as she giggled.

One evening, after a long day of work, you were at home, feeding Sarah in her high chair while Joel and Tommy sat at the kitchen table, talking shop over dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as you listened to them go on about their latest project—something about expanding a new office building downtown. It warmed your heart to see Joel so happy in his work, and even more so knowing that you were all building this life together.

Joel caught your eye from across the table, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He stood up, coming over to where you were standing with Sarah. Gently, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration as he watched you interact with Sarah.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’re doing this together,” you said softly, mirroring the words you’d told him in the hospital that day Sarah was born.

Tommy chuckled from the table. “Look at you two, bein’ all sappy. I’d say I’m jealous, but I’m just happy y’all found this.”

Joel laughed and shook his head, glancing down at Sarah, who was reaching out for him. “We’re lucky,” he said, picking her up and holding her close. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

As you watched Joel with your daughter, your heart swelled with a deep, contented happiness. The busy days, the challenges, and the long nights—it was all worth it. You had a family, a home filled with love, and a future that was built on the strength of the bond you shared. Every piece of your life had fallen into place, and there was nothing more you could ask for.

Later that night, after Tommy had left and Sarah was fast asleep in her crib, you and Joel sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light over the room. Joel had his arm draped over your shoulders, and you were curled into his side, a blanket wrapped around the both of you. The house was quiet, a peaceful kind of stillness that only came after a busy day with Sarah.

You sighed contentedly, resting your head on Joel's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been a long day, but these quiet moments together always made it feel like everything was exactly where it should be.

Joel pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently rubbing your arm. “Been thinkin’ a lot about our future,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

You looked up at him, curious. “Yeah? What about it?”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made your heart flutter. “I mean… look at us,” he said, glancing down at you and then toward the hallway where Sarah slept. “We’ve got a beautiful baby girl, a home… but I wanna make sure I’m givin’ y’all the life you deserve.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward you. “Joel, you’re already doing that,” you said earnestly. “We have everything we need. We have each other.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening. “I know, darlin’. But I’ve been thinkin’ about what’s next for us. I want to keep buildin’—for us, for Sarah. Maybe someday, we could get a bigger place… one with a backyard where Sarah can run around. And who knows, maybe she won’t be the only little one runnin’ around.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart skipping a beat at the thought. “Are you saying you want more kids?”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand finding yours and lacing his fingers with yours. “I’d be lyin’ if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But only if you want it too. I just… I love this, our family. I love seein’ Sarah grow and thinkin’ about what’s ahead for all of us.”

You smiled, the thought of expanding your family filling you with warmth. “I love it too,” you said softly. “And I love the idea of giving Sarah a sibling someday. But… no rush, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze full of understanding. “No rush,” he repeated. “I just want us to be happy, however that looks.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. “We already are, Joel,” you whispered. “But I love that we can dream about our future together. Whatever comes next, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do.”

Joel smiled, pulling you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Damn right we will,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice full of promise.

Life was passing, and you were living it. Every day you woke up feeling the most content person alive, waking up to a wonderful husband and to a beautiful daughter you both had created was the best prize you could have won.

So the time passed, and Sarah’s third birthday arrived. a day filled with laughter, cake, and the joyful chaos of a toddler’s party. The backyard had been transformed into a wonderland of balloons, streamers, and a small play area for the kids, all running around with boundless energy. Joel and Tommy were manning the grill, flipping burgers and laughing as they joked about who had the better cooking skills. You were sitting on the porch, watching Sarah play with her friends, her smile wide as she tore into the wrapping of her presents.

The sight of her beaming with happiness filled you with warmth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It had started earlier in the day, a subtle dizziness that washed over you while you were setting up for the party. At first, you brushed it off, assuming it was just the exhaustion of planning and preparing for the celebration. But as the day went on, the feeling persisted, a faint buzzing in your head that wouldn’t go away.

You stood up from your seat, intending to join Joel and Tommy at the grill, when the dizziness hit you again—stronger this time. Your vision blurred, and your legs wobbled beneath you. You reached out, gripping the railing of the porch to steady yourself, but it felt like the ground was shifting beneath your feet.

“Hey, you alright?” Joel’s voice cut through the haze, his hand suddenly on your shoulder, steadying you.

You blinked a few times, trying to shake the feeling. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, offering him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… a little dizzy. Probably just need to sit down.”

Joel’s brow furrowed with concern, his hand gently guiding you back to the porch swing. “You’ve been actin’ off all day,” he said, kneeling in front of you. “Maybe you should take a break from all this. Let me handle things for a bit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you insisted, though the pounding in your head was starting to grow. You didn’t want to worry him, especially on a day like this, but the unease settling in your chest was hard to ignore.

Just then, Sarah came running over, her tiny hands grabbing onto Joel’s leg as she tugged at his jeans. “Daddy! Come see my new toy!” she squealed, her face lit up with excitement.

Joel gave you a quick look, clearly torn, but you waved him off. “Go, Joel. I’m fine. I’ll just rest for a bit.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded. “Alright. But promise me you’ll tell me if you feel worse.”

You nodded, watching as he stood up and scooped Sarah into his arms, spinning her around as she giggled in delight. You leaned back into the swing, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping that maybe it was just the stress of the day catching up to you. But deep down, you knew something wasn’t right.

The dizziness wasn’t going away. It was getting worse.

A few hours later, after the party had wound down and the guests had left, you were helping Joel clean up when the room suddenly tilted, and your vision blurred again. This time, the dizziness was so overwhelming that you couldn’t stop it. The world spun around you, and before you could call out to Joel, everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes again, you were lying on the couch, Joel’s worried face hovering above you. His hand was gripping yours tightly, and there was fear in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice shaky. “Stay with me. I’m gonna take you to the doctor, alright? You passed out.”

You tried to sit up, but your head throbbed, and Joel gently pushed you back down. “No arguments,” he said firmly. “Somethin’s not right, and we’re gettin’ it checked out.”

You nodded weakly, the fear creeping in as the gravity of the situation began to settle. You hadn’t felt like yourself in days, and now it was clear that it wasn’t just exhaustion. Something was wrong, and as much as you wanted to stay strong for Joel and Sarah, the worry was starting to gnaw at you.

Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

So the next morning, you decided to go to the doctor alone. You assured Joel over breakfast that everything would be fine, putting on your bravest smile as you sipped your coffee. "It’s probably just stress or maybe… maybe even another pregnancy," you joked, trying to keep things light.

Joel wasn’t entirely convinced. His eyes followed your every movement, lingering with concern, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek and promised you’d text him as soon as you knew something. "You’ve got Sarah to watch today. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine."

As you sat in the doctor’s office later that day, waiting for your results, you kept replaying those words in your head

I’ll be fine. You wanted to believe it. You needed to believe it.

The doctor finally entered the room, a somber expression on his face. You sat up a little straighter, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you tried to break the tension. "So… what’s the verdict? Am I pregnant, or do I just need to get more sleep?"

He didn’t smile. That was your first clue.

"We ran some tests based on your symptoms," he began slowly, carefully. "And… I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s not what we hoped."

Your heart plummeted, the air in the room suddenly thick and suffocating. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm.

The doctor took a deep breath, his gaze steady but filled with sympathy. "The dizziness, the fatigue… it's not stress or pregnancy. The tests show signs of a rare, aggressive illness. I’m afraid it’s terminal."

For a moment, you couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. It felt like the words were echoing in a tunnel, distant and surreal. "Terminal?" The word barely escaped your lips.

He nodded gently. "I’m very sorry. It’s advanced, and from what we’ve seen, it’s progressed faster than we anticipated. There are treatments to manage symptoms, but… it’s not curable."

Your world shattered in that instant. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow, the weight of the news crashing down like a tidal wave. The future you had imagined, raising Sarah, growing old with Joel, suddenly felt like a distant dream, slipping away before you could grasp it.

You sat there in stunned silence, your mind reeling. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, trying to keep some semblance of control. You didn’t want to break down, not yet.

"What… what’s the timeline?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"It’s hard to say," the doctor replied gently. "Months, maybe a year. We’ll need to monitor closely and discuss the best options moving forward."

The rest of the appointment passed in a haze. You nodded at the right moments, accepted the information he gave you about treatment options, but none of it seemed to stick. The only thing you could think about was how you were going to tell Joel. How you were going to explain to him that your time together was now limited.

As you walked out of the office, the afternoon sun seemed too bright, too cheerful for what you had just learned. You felt numb, as though you were moving through a dream, detached from the reality that had just been placed in front of you.

You sat in your car for a long time, staring at your phone, trying to figure out how to text Joel. You had promised him everything would be fine. You had been so sure of it.

But now, you had to go home and face the hardest conversation of your life.

How were you going to tell the man you loved, the father of your child, that you were dying?

With trembling hands, you finally typed a message

On my way home:)

++++++++

You pulled up to the house, gripping the steering wheel as if it could somehow anchor you to reality.

A year.

You had a year to watch your daughter grow, to be with Joel. It felt so impossibly short, like sand slipping through your fingers. Every moment from now on was precious, but how were you supposed to tell him?

Taking a deep breath, you got out of the car and made your way to the front door. The smell of lunch wafted through the air as you stepped inside, your mind momentarily distracted by the warmth and familiarity of home. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, and your heart ached knowing how much this place had become your safe haven, filled with the people you loved most.

"Mommy!" Sarah’s excited voice snapped you back to reality as she came running towards you, her little arms outstretched.

You bent down, forcing a smile as you scooped her into your arms, hugging her tight, burying your face in her hair. "Hey, baby girl," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you held her a little longer than usual.

As you straightened up, you felt Joel’s eyes on you instantly. He was standing in the kitchen with Tommy and his new girlfriend, Maria, preparing lunch. His gaze locked onto yours, concern immediately flashing across his face. He knew something was wrong.

"We’ll talk later," Joel mouthed quietly, giving you a look that said he wasn’t going to let it go. He always had a way of reading you, knowing when something wasn’t right.

You nodded, your heart sinking further as Sarah wiggled out of your arms and ran back to play. Tommy greeted you with a grin, oblivious to the weight of the news you carried.

"Hey there!" Tommy said, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. "You’re just in time for lunch. Maria made her famous chili. You’re gonna love it."

You forced another smile, but it felt hollow. "Sounds great, Tommy," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Maria looked up from the stove, giving you a warm smile as well. "It’s good to see you. Hope you’re hungry."

But your appetite was the last thing on your mind. You felt like you were moving on autopilot, helping set the table, making small talk, but your thoughts kept circling back to the doctor’s words. Every glance Joel shot your way reminded you of the conversation you still had to have.

Lunch passed in a blur, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation surrounding you as you tried to stay present. But every time you looked at Joel or Sarah, your heart clenched tighter. How could you tell them? How could you face what was coming?

After lunch, Tommy and Maria offered to clean up, and you were grateful for the momentary reprieve. Joel came up behind you, gently placing a hand on your back. "Come with me," he said softly, leading you into the living room.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Joel turned to face you, his expression filled with worry. "What’s going on?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with fear. "You’ve been off since you got home."

You looked into his eyes, the man you loved more than anything, and you felt the tears welling up. This was it. There was no avoiding it now.

"Joel…" Your voice cracked, and you took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to say the words. "It wasn’t another pregnancy."

Joel’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Then what is it? What did they say?"

Tears finally spilled over as you choked out the words you’d been dreading. "I’m sick, Joel. It’s bad. The doctor… the doctor said I have a year. Maybe less."

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Joel’s hand dropped from your face, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What?" he whispered, like he couldn’t quite process what you’d just said.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. "I’m dying, Joel. There’s nothing they can do. It’s a terminal illness, and… and I only have a year."

The room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Joel just stared at you, his face pale, as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. "No… no, there has to be something… some kind of treatment." His voice cracked, panic seeping in.

You shook your head, your own heart breaking as you watched the man you loved fall apart in front of you. "There’s nothing, Joel. They can manage the symptoms, but… it’s only a matter of time."

Joel let out a ragged breath, his eyes filling with tears as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, like if he could just hold on, it would somehow change everything. "No, no… not you. Not now."

You clung to him, sobbing into his chest, feeling the devastation in every fiber of his being as he held you. "I’m so sorry," you whispered. "I’m so, so sorry."

Joel pulled back, cupping your face in his hands as tears streaked down his own cheeks. "We’ll fight this, okay? We’ll fight this with everything we’ve got. We’ll make the most of every damn second." His voice was thick with emotion, his determination cutting through the pain.

Joel's resolve was fierce and unwavering, a beacon of strength amidst the overwhelming sorrow. His hands gently but firmly cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. "We’ll fight this," he repeated, his voice steadier now, a promise amidst the anguish. "I know it's not fair, but we can't give up. We have to make every moment count."

You nodded, trying to draw strength from his determination, though the weight of the reality still felt crushing. "I just want to make sure Sarah has the best memories of us," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I want her to know how much she's loved, even if I'm not there."

Joel's eyes softened, and he nodded in understanding. "She will know, darlin'. We'll make sure of it. We'll do everything we can to give her the best of us, to show her how much she means to us."

The raw emotion in his voice was palpable, and you could see the resolve in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch as gentle as ever.

“I won’t lose you” he whispered, to himself mostly.

+++++++++++

The house was quiet, the gentle hum of the night providing a somber backdrop to your restless thoughts. Despite the late hour, you found yourself unable to sleep, your mind racing with the weight of what you’d just shared with Joel. The sadness and anxiety seemed to follow you as you moved through the house, a heavy blanket of worry that pressed down on you.

Driven by an instinctive need to be close to your daughter, you quietly made your way to Sarah’s room. The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow of a nightlight casting a warm, reassuring light. You carefully opened the door, trying not to disturb the peacefulness within.

Sarah’s room was filled with the soft, comforting clutter of childhood—a colorful mobile spinning slowly above her crib, stuffed animals scattered around, and drawings she’d made hanging on the walls. You stepped inside, your heart aching at the sight of your little girl sleeping so innocently.

She was nestled under her covers, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a serene glow on her peaceful face. You approached the crib quietly, your footsteps muffled on the soft carpet.

You stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep, the tears that had previously flowed now subsiding into a quiet sadness. Seeing her so calm and content was both comforting and heartbreaking. You reached out a hand, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face, your touch tender and full of love.

As you gazed at her, the reality of your situation seemed to crystallize in a new way. This precious child, so full of life and promise, was the center of your world. The thought of not being there to watch her grow up was almost too much to bear.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "I love you so much, Sarah," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I’m going to make sure you know that, every single day."

The soft rustle of the door alerted you to Joel’s presence. He had followed you quietly, sensing your distress. He stepped into the room, his eyes softening as he saw you standing by Sarah’s crib. Without a word, he came to stand beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"She’s beautiful," Joel murmured, his voice gentle, filled sadness.  

You nodded, leaning into him, the warmth of his presence a small but significant comfort. "I just… I want to make sure she’s okay. I want to make sure she remembers how much I love her.”

Joel’s breath hitched as he listened to your words, the weight of your statement crashing over him like a tidal wave. He stood silently for a moment, his arm still around you, but his grip tightening as he tried to hold himself together. The reality of the situation—the harsh truth of your illness and the limited time you had left—was almost too much for him to bear.

As your words sank in, Joel's composure began to crack. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes finally spilled over, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He buried his face into your shoulder, his body trembling as he let the pain and grief flow freely.

"I can't… I can't believe this," Joel choked out, his voice breaking. "You’re not supposed to go… not now. Not when we’ve finally got everything we ever wanted."

You turned to him, your own tears mixing with his as you gently cupped his face in your hands. "Joel, I wish there was something I could do to change this," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "But right now, all we can do is make the most of the time we have left. I need you to be strong, for Sarah, for us."

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of anguish and determination. "I don’t know how to be strong without you. You’re everything to me."

You wiped away his tears with your thumb, trying to offer some solace. "You have to. For Sarah. She needs you just as much as I do. We both do."

Joel nodded slowly, his sobs subsiding into a series of ragged breaths. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly as if he could somehow shield you from the inevitable. "I’ll do it," he promised, his voice hoarse. "I’ll be strong.”

You rested your forehead against his, your hearts beating in sync as you shared this painful but precious moment together. Every second between you both counted.

“Let me be with you through this. Let me go with you to the doctor and take care of you” he pleaded.

+++++++++++

You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your forehead, the intensity of his love and fear palpable in every touch. His words were both a comfort and a heartbreaking reminder of the reality you were facing.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I need you to be with me through this, too. I can’t do it alone. But I want to be strong for you and Sarah, and I want you to be strong for us."

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "I’ll be here. Every step of the way. I promise."

He gently pulled you back from the crib, guiding you to sit on the edge of Sarah's bed. He sat beside you, taking your hand in his and holding it tightly. The simple gesture of his hand enveloping yours was a small but powerful symbol of his unwavering support.

"We’ll face this together," he said, his voice steadying as he spoke. "We’ll go to every appointment, handle every treatment, and make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. We’ll make every day count."

You squeezed his hand, a faint smile touching your lips despite the tears streaming down your face. "Thank you, Joel. It means the world to me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he murmured. "And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you know that, every single day."

You both sat there for a while, the quiet of the night punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of your sleeping daughter. In that intimate space, amidst the uncertainty and fear, you found a sliver of peace. Together, you faced the daunting road ahead with love and resilience, clinging to each other and to the hope of making the most of every precious moment you had left.

Eventually, Joel helped you up, and you both quietly left Sarah’s room, closing the door softly behind you. As you walked back to your own bedroom, you felt Joel’s steady presence beside you, and though the future was uncertain, you knew that, with him by your side, you would face whatever came with the strength and love that had always defined your life together.

++++++++

Time seemed to slip through your fingers, each day marked by the weight of your diagnosis and the ever-present pain of knowing how limited your time was. Every sunset felt like a reminder of the time slipping away—one day less to share with Joel, one day less to hold Sarah. The urgency of every moment grew more intense, and you clung to each precious second.

You and Joel had a scheduled visit to the doctor, and the tension in the air was palpable. The doctor explained a treatment plan that could help manage your symptoms and ease your pain, but the prospect of spending even more time in a hospital filled you with dread.

As you sat in the sterile, white room, Joel's eyes were fixed on the doctor, but he kept glancing at you, searching for some sign of agreement or understanding. The doctor’s voice was calm and professional, but Joel’s anxiety was palpable as he tried to take in every detail.

"You should start this treatment as soon as possible," the doctor said. "It will help manage the pain and improve your quality of life."

You shook your head, your chest tightening. "I don’t want to be in and out of hospitals. I want to be with Joel and Sarah. I want to spend whatever time I have left with them, not stuck in a hospital room."

Joel’s face reddened with frustration and concern. "But this could make things easier for you. You don’t have to suffer through the pain if you take this treatment!"

"I don’t want to spend my days in a hospital!" you argued back, your voice rising. "I want to be with my family, not lying in a bed surrounded by machines and IV drips. Every day I spend there is a day I lose with you.”

The argument grew heated, both of you caught in the clash between your desire to make the most of your time and Joel's desperation to find any way to alleviate your suffering.

Joel’s face was a mixture of anger and helplessness as he tried to make you understand. "I’m just trying to help you! I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I can’t bear the thought of you in pain."

You took a deep breath, your emotions raw. "I know you’re trying to help, Joel. But I need to live, not just survive. I want to hold Sarah, kiss you goodnight, and make memories with you. I don’t want my last days to be filled with hospital rooms and treatments. I want to be where I can be with you both, as much as possible."

The room fell silent, the gravity of your words sinking in. Joel’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, his hands gripping the edge of the chair tightly. The fight had left him, replaced by a deep, painful realization of the limited time you both had.

Finally, Joel reached out, taking your hand in his with a gentleness that belied the struggle he was feeling. "Alright," he said quietly, his voice weary and tired.

“I don’t want you both to forget me” you said, “I need to know I was important.”

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked at you with a mixture of sadness and determination, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You’ll never be forgotten. You are the most important person in our lives. Sarah will know all about how much you loved her, and I’ll make sure she knows how much you meant to me, too.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the depth of his words. “I just need to be sure that I’m leaving something behind—something that tells you both how much I love you.”

Joel wiped a tear from his cheek, his face softening with a pained smile. “You’ve already left us with so much. Your love, your laughter, your strength… it’s all a part of who we are. And it will be with us, always.”

You squeezed his hand, finding some comfort in his words, even as your heart ached with the reality of your situation. “I want to make sure we make every day count. I want Sarah to have the best memories of us together, of our family.”

Joel nodded; his expression resolute. “We will. Every day will be filled with love and laughter, and we’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you meant to her. We’ll make the most of this time, I promise.”

++++++++

The days that followed were a whirlwind of bittersweet moments, as you and Joel made the most of every precious second together. Despite the heaviness that lingered over your days, there was a sense of determination to fill them with love and joy for both yourself and Sarah.

Every morning, you and Joel would wake up early, watching Sarah’s tiny face light up with a smile as you all shared breakfast together. The simple pleasures of family life became even more cherished. You would spend afternoons at the park, where Sarah’s laughter rang out as she chased butterflies and played on the swings, with Joel pushing her higher and higher.

One of the things you enjoyed most was having movie nights. The three of you would snuggle on the couch, watching animated films and eating popcorn, with Joel often making silly faces to make Sarah giggle. You cherished these moments of simple happiness, knowing they would be treasured memories for your little girl.

Joel also made sure to capture these memories. He took countless photos of you with Sarah, documenting every milestone and every cherished moment. There were days filled with arts and crafts, with Sarah’s tiny hands covered in paint as she created colorful drawings that you proudly displayed around the house.

In the evenings, when Sarah was asleep, you and Joel would sit together, talking about the future and reminiscing about your past. There were tears, but also laughter, as you shared stories and dreams. Joel’s presence was a constant source of comfort and strength, and you found solace in the way he held you close, even as you both faced the reality of the time you had left.

On weekends, you would go on family outings—visiting the zoo, going on picnics, and taking long walks in nature. Joel made sure these outings were filled with joy and wonder for Sarah, creating a world where she felt loved and cherished.

As the months passed, there were moments of quiet reflection. Joel would often hold you close while watching Sarah sleep, whispering reassurances and promises to you. Even in the midst of your struggle, you found strength in the love and support of your family.

And when the time came to say goodbye, it was with the knowledge that you had filled your days with love, laughter, and unforgettable memories. You left behind a legacy of warmth and affection that would continue to live on in the hearts of those you loved most.

++++++++++

the moments you shared with Joel became even more precious. Despite the looming shadow of your illness, you both found solace in each other's arms, drawing strength from the love that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship.

In the evenings, after Sarah had gone to bed, Joel would take your hand and lead you to the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom. There, you would spend time talking, reminiscing, and dreaming of a future that, though limited, was filled with love. You’d sit together on the edge of the bed, holding each other close, sharing whispers of gratitude and affection. The conversations often revolved around how much you meant to each other, the deep love you had for one another, and the life you had built together.

“I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve had,” Joel would say, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You’ve made my life so much richer, so much more meaningful. I don’t know how I’ll manage without you, but I know I’ll carry you with me every single day.”

You’d look into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of connection and love. “You’ve been my rock, Joel. Through everything, you’ve been there for me. I’ve loved every second of our life together, and I’m so glad I got to share this time with you.”

Joel would gently brush your hair back from your face, his touch tender and loving. “I’m going to make sure Sarah knows just how much you loved her. I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do. She’s going to grow up knowing how special you were.”

You’d smile through your tears, finding comfort in his words. “And I’ll be with you both in every step you take, every laugh, every tear. I’ll be in the memories we’ve made, in the love that we shared.”

On weekends, you and Joel would find small adventures to embark on, just the two of you. Whether it was taking a scenic drive to your favorite spots, having a quiet dinner at a restaurant you both loved, or simply sitting together in the backyard under the stars, you made sure these moments were filled with love and laughter.

One night, after a particularly special dinner where you reminisced about your favorite moments together, Joel held you close and whispered, “I love you more than words can say. I want you to know that you are everything to me. I can’t imagine my life without you, but I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had.”

You snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his love. “I love you too, Joel. Every day with you has been a gift, and I’m so glad I got to share this journey with you. You’ve made my life so full.”

++++++++++

One evening, you and Joel had invited Tommy and Maria over for dinner. It was a comforting routine that allowed you to share joyful moments with family, despite the shadow that loomed over your days. The table was set with your favorite dishes, laughter and conversation flowing freely as you all enjoyed the meal together.

Sarah was in her high chair, delighting in the company and the food, her giggles adding a touch of lightness to the atmosphere. Joel was by your side, occasionally glancing at you with a mixture of love and concern. Tommy and Maria chatted animatedly, their warmth creating a cocoon of familiarity and comfort.

But as the evening wore on, you began to feel a growing unease. A wave of dizziness washed over you, and you tried to brush it off, attributing it to the long day and the stress you had been under. However, the feeling didn’t subside. Instead, it intensified, leaving you feeling weak and disoriented.

Joel noticed your discomfort immediately. His face tightened with concern as he reached out to steady you. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You forced a smile, but the effort was clearly draining. “I’m just feeling a bit off. I think I need to sit down for a minute.”

Tommy and Maria’s conversation faltered as they noticed the change in the mood. Tommy’s eyes met Joel’s, and the unease was palpable. “Maybe you should go to the hospital,” Tommy suggested gently, his voice carrying a note of urgency.

Joel’s expression shifted to one of determination. He stood up, helping you to your feet with a steadying arm. “We need to get you checked out,” he said firmly, his worry evident.

Maria quickly gathered your things, while Joel helped you into the car. Sarah, sensing the tension, looked up with curious eyes as Tommy comforted her, assuring her everything would be alright.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of anxious thoughts and unspoken fears. Joel’s hand remained tightly clasped around yours, offering both support and strength. The hospital’s bright lights and bustling atmosphere seemed almost surreal as you arrived, your strength waning with each step.

Joel rushed you through the emergency room, the urgency of the situation clear in his eyes. The doctors and nurses quickly took over, guiding you through a series of tests and assessments. Joel remained by your side, his presence a constant source of comfort amid the chaos.

As the minutes ticked by, you could see the worry etched deeply on Joel’s face. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at the clock as if willing time to slow down. The tension in the room was palpable, with Tommy and Maria waiting in the hallway, their faces etched with concern.

Finally, the doctor emerged, and Joel’s heart sank as he saw the somber expression on the doctor’s face. He immediately went to the doctor, his voice trembling as he asked for information. The doctor’s words were gentle but clear: your condition had worsened, and it was only a matter of time.

Joel’s world seemed to tilt, and he struggled to hold back his tears as he returned to your side. He sat beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “I’m here with you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving.”

You looked into his eyes, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love despite the pain you were experiencing. “Thank you for being here with me”

As you lay in the hospital bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the overhead lights, you found solace in Joel’s presence beside you. His hand was still gripping yours, the warmth and strength of his touch providing a small measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty.

Joel looked at you, his eyes brimming with tears, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "You know," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I keep thinking about how we first met."

You managed a faint smile, despite the heaviness in your chest. "At this very hospital," you said softly. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Joel nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yeah, I remember that day.

You squeezed his hand gently. "And now, here we are again. It's almost poetic, in a way."

Joel’s eyes filled with tears once more as he looked at you, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. "It’s just… so damn unfair. We had so much more to experience together, so many more memories to make. I thought we’d have years, not just a few precious months."

The tears fell freely now, streaming down Joel’s face as he struggled to contain his grief. He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t know how to live in a world without you."

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. "You don’t have to say goodbye yet," you whispered, your own voice breaking. "We still have these moments, these precious days together. And even after I’m gone, you’ll carry my love with you. I’ll be in your heart, in Sarah’s laughter, and in every little thing we’ve shared."

Joel nodded, trying to steady his breath as he wiped away his tears. "I’ll hold on to that. I’ll remember every moment we had, every laugh, every kiss. I’ll make sure Sarah knows how much you loved her, and I’ll keep your memory alive in everything we do."

You gazed into his eyes, finding strength in his resolve. "And I’ll be with you both, always. In the memories we’ve made and the love we’ve shared."

Joel leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. "I love you so much," he murmured. "More than words can ever express."

"I love you too," you whispered back. "Forever and always."

The night wore on, the hospital room growing quieter with each passing hour. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor became a solemn reminder of the fleeting time left. Your breaths were growing shallower, each one a struggle as the weight of your condition became increasingly apparent.

Joel stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours with a steady grip. His eyes, red from crying, remained fixed on you, his face a mask of heartache and determination. He knew this was the final chapter of your journey, and he was determined to be with you every step of the way.

With a tender and measured touch, Joel reached for Sarah, who had been resting in the care of Tommy and Maria. He gently carried her into the room, her small body nestled against his chest. The sight of her, innocent and unaware of the gravity of the situation, brought a new wave of tears to your eyes.

Joel carefully placed Sarah in your arms, her soft, warm weight providing a bittersweet comfort. You looked down at her cherubic face, feeling a surge of love and sorrow. Your heart ached knowing that you wouldn’t be there to watch her grow up, but you were determined to leave her with a sense of your love.

“Hey, my sweet girl,” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with affection. Sarah looked up at you with curious eyes, her tiny fingers grasping yours. “Mommy loves you so much.”

Joel sat beside you, his hand resting on Sarah’s small back. He looked at you with a mixture of pain and gratitude. “She’s beautiful. She’s going to grow up knowing how much you loved her.”

You smiled faintly, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “Promise me you’ll tell her stories about me. About our time together, and how much we loved each other.”

Joel nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I promise. She’ll know all about you. She’ll know how amazing you were, how much you loved her, and how you made every moment special.”

As your breaths grew slower, the room seemed to hold its breath with you. Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here with you,” he whispered. “You’re not alone.”

You turned your gaze back to Sarah, your voice trembling as you spoke to her. “I’ll always be with you, sweetheart. In your heart, in your dreams, and in every beautiful thing you do. Mommy loves you more than anything.”

Sarah cooed softly, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch your face. You gently caressed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Be good for Daddy. He’ll take care of you, and he’ll love you just as much as I do.”

Joel’s tears fell freely now, his face buried in his hands as he struggled to contain his grief. He took a deep breath, his voice cracking with emotion as he spoke to you. “We’ll be okay. We’ll remember you. We’ll make sure Sarah knows how special you were, and we’ll keep you in our hearts forever.”

You took a final, shuddering breath, your strength waning. You looked at Joel one last time, seeing the depth of his love and commitment. “I love you,” you whispered. “Forever and always.”

With that final promise, you closed your eyes, feeling a deep sense of peace. The love that had defined your life, the love that you had shared with Joel and Sarah, would continue to live on in their hearts, a testament to the beautiful and profound bond you had created together.

+++++++++++

The room fell into an overwhelming silence after your final breath. The beeping of the heart monitor ceased, replaced by the quiet sobs of Joel and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Sarah, who remained nestled in your arms. The gravity of the moment settled heavily on Joel, and he carefully took Sarah from your lifeless embrace, holding her close as he struggled to contain his grief.

Tommy and Maria, who had been waiting outside, came in quietly, their eyes red and their faces etched with sorrow. They stood at a respectful distance, offering their support and understanding as Joel cradled Sarah in his arms, tears streaming down his face.

Joel gently laid you back onto the hospital bed, his fingers lingering on your hand as if hoping to feel a last trace of warmth. His heart was shattered, but he knew he had to be strong for Sarah. He reached for the small bundle of joy that was their daughter, holding her close and whispering words of comfort to her.

He glanced around the room, taking in the reality of the situation. The once lively conversations, the shared laughter, and the promises of a future together seemed like a distant memory now. It was a stark contrast to the present, a heavy silence filled with the echoes of your love and the pain of your absence.

Tommy stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder. “We’ll take care of everything,” he said softly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Maria nodded; her eyes filled with compassion. “We’ll help you with all the arrangements. We’re here for you, for Sarah.”

Joel managed a nod, his voice hoarse as he replied, “Thank you.”

It was all he managed to say.

+++++++++++

Joel stumbled through the front door of the house, the once familiar warmth now replaced by an overwhelming coldness. Each step felt heavier as he moved through the rooms, his heart aching with the absence of your presence. The house, once filled with laughter and love, now felt hollow and silent.

He made his way to the bedroom, the place where you had shared so many moments of intimacy and comfort. As he entered the room, the emptiness was palpable. The bed, once shared, now seemed too large and lonely. The space you had filled with your presence and love was now a void, echoing with memories.

Joel collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving with the intensity of his grief. He buried his face in the pillow, the scent of you still lingering faintly. Tears streamed down his face as he allowed himself to fully embrace the sorrow that had overtaken him. The silence of the room was only broken by the sound of his sobs, a raw and unrestrained expression of the depth of his pain.

He clutched the pillow, imagining it was you, and whispered your name through his tears. “I miss you so much,” he choked out, his voice breaking with every word. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The room felt like a shrine to your memory, filled with remnants of your life together—the framed photographs on the nightstands, the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and the faint traces of your touch. Each item seemed to amplify the void left behind.

Joel’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. He replayed moments from the past—times when you had laughed together, held each other, and dreamed of a future that now felt out of reach. The memories were both a comfort and a torment, a reminder of what had been lost and what would never be again.

As he lay there, the exhaustion of the day and the emotional toll finally began to weigh on him. He knew he had to be strong for Sarah, but in this moment, alone in the room that held so many of your shared memories, he allowed himself to grieve. The night stretched out before him, a long and lonely vigil as he wrestled with the enormity of his loss.

Hours later, Joel eventually drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of his grief a constant companion. He knew that tomorrow would bring more challenges, more pain, and more adjustments to a life forever altered by your absence. But for now, the quiet of the night and the space you had shared was all he had, and he clung to it as a bittersweet reminder of the love that would always remain in his heart.

+++++++++++++

On Sarah’s thirteenth birthday, Joel felt a mix of pride and bittersweet nostalgia. It was a significant milestone, and he wanted it to be special for her. The day had been filled with laughter, friends, and celebrations, but there was one more moment that he had been waiting for—a moment he had kept close to his heart.

After the festivities had calmed down and Sarah was surrounded by her friends and family, Joel gently called her aside. “There’s something I want to give you,” he said, his voice carrying a tender note of emotion.

Sarah looked at him with curiosity as he led her to a quiet corner of the house. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. The paper was adorned with a delicate floral design, and a note was attached with a ribbon.

“This is something your mom left for you,” Joel said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “She knew this day would come, and she wanted you to have this.”

Sarah’s eyes widened with surprise as she carefully untied the ribbon and removed the wrapping. Inside was a beautifully crafted jewelry box, its surface intricately designed with floral patterns and delicate engravings. As she lifted the lid, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

Inside the box lay a locket, its surface engraved with the initials “S” and “J,” and a small, framed photo of you and Sarah, taken when she was just a baby. The locket contained two small, precious pictures—one of you, and one of Sarah as a newborn.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Joel. “I’ve never seen this before,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Joel nodded, his own eyes misty. “Your mom wanted you to have it on your thirteenth birthday. She wanted you to know how much she loved you and how proud she was of the person you’re becoming.”

Sarah carefully picked up the locket, her fingers brushing the photo of you. “Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “It means so much to me.”

Joel pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she cried softly against him. “She loved you more than anything,” Joel said quietly. “And she’s always with us, in our hearts and in our memories.”

As Sarah held the locket close, she looked up at Joel with a grateful smile. “I’m going to keep this forever,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “It’s a piece of her that I can always carry with me.”

Joel smiled through his tears, feeling a profound sense of peace. “She would be so proud of you,” he said. “And she’ll always be a part of your life, just like she is a part of mine.”

As Sarah clasped the locket around her neck, a gentle warmth seemed to fill the room. Joel noticed a soft, iridescent glow forming in the air, gradually taking shape. His heart skipped a beat as he saw what seemed to be a delicate butterfly, its wings shimmering with a myriad of colors that danced in the light.

The butterfly hovered for a moment, almost as if it were assessing its surroundings, before it gracefully fluttered over to Sarah and Joel. It landed gently on Sarah’s shoulder, its tiny wings fluttering in a serene, almost ethereal manner.

Sarah’s eyes widened in awe as she reached out a trembling hand. The butterfly, with its captivating, almost familiar patterns, seemed to radiate a gentle, comforting presence. Joel stood beside her, his tears now mingled with a profound sense of wonder and calm.

“It’s her,” Joel said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s really her.”

Sarah’s face lit up with a smile, her earlier sadness replaced by a serene joy. “Mom,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the butterfly. “It’s like she’s here with us.”

Joel nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. “She’s always with us, in every moment, in every memory. This is her way of reminding us that she’s never truly gone.”

The butterfly remained perched on Sarah’s shoulder for a few more moments before it gently took flight, circling the room in a graceful dance. It finally settled on a nearby windowsill, where it continued to flutter its wings, casting a soft glow in the dim light.

Sarah and Joel watched in awe, their smiles reflecting the profound connection they felt in that moment. The butterfly, with its vibrant colors and delicate grace, was a symbol of the love and presence that transcended time and space.

As the butterfly eventually fluttered away into the night, leaving a trail of shimmering light behind, Joel wrapped his arm around Sarah, pulling her into a warm embrace. “She’s always here, with us,” Joel said softly. “And we’ll carry her memory with us, every day.”

Sarah hugged her father tightly, her heart full of the love and comfort that the butterfly had symbolized. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’ll keep this locket close to remind me of her.”

+++++++++++++++

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter I - In Between These Lines

Summary: Aemond had been avoiding you all day, and you were determined to get some answers, and maybe comfort him when he needed you to.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello hello! It's the day of the (official) release of the season 2 finale of HotD and I thought it was the perfect time to publish this. I have been meaning to write for this fandom for quite some time now, and this one had been on my mind for quite some time now and I decided to write it down and see where it went, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.

Just to clear some things up: reader is Rhaenyra’s eldest child (yes, I went for that trope), being one or two years younger than Aemond and one or two years older than Jace (so she and Aemond are more or less the same age). This first chapter is set on the same day of the Pink Dread incident (season 1, episode 6), which means they are children. (Also, I don't understand anything of palm reading, but that's kinda the whole point)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He had been ignoring you all day. The only time you even managed to catch a glimpse of him was on the courtyard during his training lessons with Ser Criston, accompanied by both your brothers and his own. It was pretty boring, really, watching from afar as it would be considered ‘improper’ for you to join them, even though both your father and Ser Harwin had taken upon themselves to teach you the ways of the steel in secret (even though you had a strong suspicion your mother was well aware of it). At least you got some free entertainment for the day, watching Ser Harwin beat the absolute shit out of Cole.

Serves him right for being cunt to my brothers, you had thought.

You’d normally prefer to spend your afternoons with Helaena, truly enjoying the girl’s company, her fascination with bugs and beetles and her clever mind never failing to make you smile. However, you’d later have to apologize to your aunt for skipping on your daily meeting as you ventured around the keep in search of her brother. You were supposed to meet at the weirwood tree after he got back from going to the pit with the boys so you could work on your high valyrian lessons together, but as the minutes passed you began to worry and set out to find him. 

You thoroughly believed he wasn’t even going to show up at supper, his mother smiling softly albeit crookedly upon your questioning, claiming he was feeling indisposed, but to your surprise he did come in if only a little late. He wasn’t acting like himself, however, choosing to sit in the seat furthest away from you, where he would normally sit right by your side, leaving the seat vacant for Aegon to sit next to you, his abhorrent manners at the table almost making you physically recoil. He didn’t look at anyone, nor did he speak to anyone unless spoken to and he seemed way more interested in poking around his food than actually eating it. And once the meal was over and everyone was excused he practically vanished, rushing out of the hall before you could even rise to your feet.

Now, as night had fallen, you were determined to find him and get some answers. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you ventured deeper in the hidden passages of the Keep where your sword lessons were held, the chilly air of King’s Landing biting at your exposed arms. You walked with confidence, knowing for a fact both your chambers were connected through these halls. You just hoped to the Old Gods and the New that you did in fact know where you were going and that you didn’t accidentally walk in on Aegon doing something very morally questionable with one of the servants.

Please let it be this one, you prayed as your fingers pressed against a loose panel on the wall.

And it seemed you had to look no further. Aemond was half submerged in a bath arranged in the middle of the room (confirming these were, indeed, his chambers), the ends of his hair sticking to his skin as water clung to the strands. Upon hearing the wall moving he startled, his eyes widening as he desperately scrambled to try and cover some of his modesty, even though you could barely see anything below the waterline.

“B-by the Gods!” he squirmed, clearly not expecting visitors at this hour, and you felt an amused smirk building on your lips at his attempts at covering up.

“Worry not, uncle.” you jested walking closer to the tub after closing the secret door behind you “You seem to forget I have three younger brothers. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His cheeks tinged with a bright shade of pink.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?!” he tried once again to cover up, trying to look anywhere but at you standing in the middle of his chambers in only your nightclothes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, the smirk promptly slipping from your face.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by such a question, looking away almost… ashamed?

“I have done no such thing, I have just been busy?” he tried, though his words lacked any conviction and ended up sounding more like a question.

“You promised to meet me after going to the Dragonpit.” you spoke softly “But you never came.”

At this he didn’t have a rebuttal, not one that wouldn’t give too much away, so he simply shrugged, his gaze cast down into the water. But you could tell from the way he shrunk under your gaze that there was something more to it.

“Did something happen in the Dragonpit?” you asked, taking a couple of slow and careful steps closer to him. When he stayed silent, only scrunching his eyes as if it physically pained him to think about it, you tried again “Aemond… what happened at the Dragonpit?”

“Nothing happened!” he snapped, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, before his voice acquired a venomous tone “Now if you could excuse me, little niece, I find myself quite occupied at the moment and don’t have the time to entertain you right now. Go meddle on somebody else’s business.”

Had you been anybody else you’d have left by now, with your tail between your legs and tears dripping down your face over the lashing of his tongue. And although his words did sting and left you feeling slightly humiliated, you stood your ground. You’d like to think that after all these years, having grown up together in the Red Keep, you’d come to know your uncle, your friend, better than anyone by now. You knew he, very much like yourself, was more reserved in his feelings, keeping them to himself, but once they finally bubbled over they tended to burn everything in their path. Aemond, like you, was the blood of the dragon after all. And you had come to learn that when he was hurting he tended to lash out at anyone and everyone around him, intending to inflict the same hurt onto others so he wasn’t left alone in his misery.

So, taking a steadying breath, you closed the distance between the two of you, carefully climbing inside the tub with him. The water was lukewarm, and given the propensities of the members of the Targaryen family to enjoy their baths scalding hot, it told you that he’d probably been here for quite a while now, sulking alone.

As you lowered yourself into the water, he pressed himself further into the side of the wooden tub, trying to stay as further away from you as possible. 

“T-this is hardly appropriate, niece.” he stammered, trying not to let his eyes curiously wander down to your now soaked nightgown.

You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the situation you found yourself in, but you’d gone too far now to back down without the answers you seek.

“So, are you going to tell me what the matter is?”

He didn’t answer, but even though he refused to look directly at you, you spotted a lone tear escaping down his cheek.

“Aemond-”

“They gave me a pig.” he whispered, his gaze once again cast down.

“What?”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see the weight of the anger and the shame he’d been caring throughout the entire day.

“After Jacaerys finished his training with Vermax, he, Aegon and Lucerys mentioned they had found a dragon for me.” his voice wavered slightly as he recounted the event “I should not have believed them, I was such a fool… they brought a pig, decorated with wings and all.” more tears escaped his eyes, your heart clenching in your chest at the sight “‘The Pink Dread’ they called it.”

“Oh, Aemond-”

“I don’t want your pity, niece!” he lashed out once again, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t personal “If that is all you came here for you can see yourself out.”

You pursed your lips, a frown etched on your face. You knew how much it pained him to remain dragonless. He had shared his thoughts with you once in the library after your lessons in high valyrian, way past the time you should have retired to your respective chambers. How he thought himself a disgrace to the Targaryen name, ashamed at not having a dragon for himself when even your younger brother Luke already had Arrax. You tried to console him but he was having none of it, too caught up in his self-loathing to listen. So you knew nothing you said could comfort him how he deserved.

An idea struck you. It was a stupid one, and you didn’t even know if it would work, but you had to try even if it backfired spectacularly. So you scooted closer to him in the tub, fitting between his spread legs without touching him, and extended your palm out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand.” you coaxed, making come-hither with your extended fingers.

Once he realized you weren’t going to give him any further explanation, he did as he was told, laying his hand over your own, his palm facing down, which you quickly turned around. You started tracing the lines on his palm gently with your other hand, so concentrated you barely noticed the goosebumps forming on his skin from your ministrations.

“What-?” he started but you were quick to cut him off with a gentle ‘shhh’, which promptly shut him up, only slightly offended.

“See here?” you pointed at one of the lines in his palm, tracing it with your finger “It is your line of life. See how long it is? It means you shall live a long and fulfilling life.”

He glanced at you, still not understanding a word you were saying, and you gave him a soft, encouraging smile. 

“And see this one?” you pointed to another line “This is your line of heart. It turns upwards, which means you will be wed to a nice lady one day, and that you will love eachother very deeply and rejoice in your happiness together.”

You don’t know why saying that made your heart ache only slightly, but the sight of a smile slowly but surely curling on his lips made it all worth it, as it meant your plan was working. 

“And here,” you curled your fingers, closing his hand inside your own, and pointing to the lines that formed on the outer side “two deep lines and one shallow, meaning you’ll have three children when you grow older, two daughters and a son. And from how deep these two lines are, the girls will be very beautiful, they will probably give you a headache from how many suitors they will have.”

To this he chuckled, his tears long forgotten, and you giggled along with him.

“And here…” you opened his hand once again, and pointed to a long vertical line that crossed almost the entirety of his palm “is your line of the dragon. Only those of Targaryen descent have this one on their palms, see?” you pointed to your own hand which showed a similar line, different only in length “It means you will have a dragon one day.”

At this his face fell and he tried to rip his hand from you, but you held onto it firmly.

“The lines don’t lie.” you rushed to explain, now focused on his eyes as they softened at your words “You can check for yourself. Your brother and sister both have it on their hands, my own brothers have it. Seven Hells, you can even check Princess Rhaenys hands, she has one as well.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of doubt and found none.

“You will have a dragon one day, Aemond.” you squeezed his hand to emphasize our point “I’m sure of it.”

His smile grew on his face, sheepish but sincere, only a flick of his lips away from becoming a smirk.

“You just came up with all that, didn’t you?” he asked, and you gasped in mock offense, pushing against his shoulder.

“You wound me, uncle!” you pressed your hand against your heart “Why would I do such a thing?”

A beat passed before both of you burst out laughing, not one bit concerned the guards stationed just outside his door could probably hear you. You were glad you could make him smile again and give him some comfort, knowing you had succeeded on your mission.

As you both calmed down you looked at him once again, truly looked at him. He was quite beautiful when he smiled, and oh, how you wished he would do it more often around you. In that moment only the two of you existed, together. When asked later you wouldn’t be able to tell what came over you in that very moment, but once you realized what you were doing you had surged forward, pressing your lips against his in the gentlest, softest of kisses.

No sooner had your lips come in contact with his own, you were pulling back, eyes widening in panic. His own were blown wide as well, surprised by your actions. You didn’t waste a second climbing out of the tub, almost toppling over the side in your rush, your drenched nightclothes making your task all the more difficult.

“Wait!” he tried to hold onto you but you were quicker “Please, don’t go, I-!”

But you were already making your way to the hidden passage on the wall and disappearing from his chambers. He would have thought he had fallen asleep in the bath and dreamed the whole thing had it not been for the dark trail left behind going from the tub all the way to the wall from where water had dripped from your body in your haste to get away. 

And if, come the next morrow, he forcefully grabbed his mother’s hand and flip it to look at her palms, much to her protests, and notice a line present on the exact place where you had pointed the so called ‘line of the dragon’ the night before, his smile gave away the gratitude he felt for you at that moment.

[noiriarti]

Just Practice: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Modern Best Friends AU) Ch. 3

NSFW!!!!!!! Literally so NSFW!!! Summary: Anakin is your best friend, the one person you can't survive without, and you're about to go to different colleges. You bring up your worries about your inexperience and he offers to help. Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader Word Count: 5.4k CW: usage of 'good girl,' rough sex, lots of masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation AN: All the love for this fic has really blown me away!! This is quite possibly the raunchiest thing I've ever written and I hope you all enjoy it! As always, requests and asks are open!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Bonus Chapter

Chapter 3: Black Lace

Did you love Anakin? Laying on your bed that night after he had just upended your world by kissing you for the first time, you were coming to realize that the answer was likely yes. You loved him platonically, that was a given, but the amount of desire you felt to hold his hand and kiss him wasn't quite normal friend behavior. Over the past year, you had found yourself breathless a couple of times that surprised you. Once, the two of you were wrestling over something (a water bottle? A keychain? It was unimportant), and he pinned you down harshly, a memory that plagued you when you were in bed touching yourself for three whole months after. His eyes, boring into you with that look that you now realized was desire haunted you.

Now that you had finally had his lips on yours, you had started thinking that you weren't just horny, that there was something there. Maybe you had always wanted him a little. Hearing about him and Padmé had made you jealous, but you chalked it up to how he had pulled away from you just slightly to spend more time with Padmé. But that was normal friend stuff, right? Sometimes, when you were in the stands, watching him play, and he ran over to the bench for a drink of water or during a break, his golden brown hair glinted in the sunlight, fluffy pulled back with a headband. The thin sheen of sweat would cover his brow, and Padmé would rush up to the front of the bleachers to wave to him and get his attention. When he waved back, which he always did, though with differing degrees of enthusiasm, you wished he was waving at you. Playing for you. That he'd run to you when he won the game like he ran to Padmé.

So that settled it. It turned out that you were in love with Anakin. What you would do about it depended entirely on him. If he was into you, awesome, but, if not, you couldn't risk your friendship. It was too important.

You made three decisions that night. First, you had to get through tomorrow at the airport with dignity, and not shake things up too much. Second, you had to "practice" with him again, and as soon as possible. Third, you could not get naked in front of him before you knew that he felt the same way about you. The third decision came from your own knowledge. If you were naked in front of him, and he didn't want to date you, you'd spend the rest of your life thinking this man has seen me naked, and he knows how my nipples look whenever you laid eyes on him. So you couldn't get naked yet, but you were planning to tell him how you felt as soon as you were more certain that he liked you than not.

It had been an incredibly horny two weeks for you. Your discovery that you, in fact, loved Anakin resulted in you getting horrendously turned on by every single move he made. Every text had you rushing to the lecture hall's bathroom to shove your hand down your pants. One time, he sent you his official team photo, in his pretty jersey, and you literally ran across campus to your dorm to jerk off. You were down horrendous.

Ahsoka had listened to all this (minus all the masturbation) with an amused expression and insisted that you were stupid, and he obviously liked you. But she didn't know him like you knew him. He was really, really friendly. This was all plausibly deniable. Ahsoka, however, was not stupid, so she just rolled her eyes. It was kind of cute, watching this develop. Ahsoka asked you if you'd seen any cute guys, and you mentioned that the guy who sat next to you in Intro to Sociology was passable, some guy named Jake who you exchanged numbers with for homework sessions. Jake didn't matter at all, though, really. You had eyes only for Anakin.

In your horny haze, you started watching more and more porn featuring men who kind of looked like him. When they would call the girls they were fucking sluts, you felt a shiver as you imagined Anakin saying that to you. In that one session, you really dropped down a rabbit hole that culminated in you taking the BDSM test and lighting up like a Christmas tree. Well, shit.

You desperately wanted to try some of what you had seen, so you found a local sex store and decided to go on Tuesday. There, you walked through the aisles and made mental notes, like research. In the back, you found a rack of lingerie in your size, one of which was a black lace set on sale. Perfect. They were out of fishnets in your size, which you cursed. You really wanted him to rip them. After that, you still had an hour left to explore the store before Ahsoka would be home. For a long time, you stood in front of a display of plugs and debated whether to buy one. Then you moved on to the wall of vibrators, which was overwhelmingly brightly colored. Every box yelled out the benefits--Xtreme Suction, Boyfriend Experience, 17 Vibrating Settings--and you almost didn't buy one. Almost. You took a big vibrating wand off the wall, which at least seemed beginner-friendly. So, after spending altogether too much, you half-walked, half-ran back to your room to try out your new toy while you thought of Anakin. It turned out that the vibrator was incredibly powerful and made you cum in one minute flat, which was lucky because Ahsoka's class let out early.

For the rest of the week, every time you thought of what he was going to do to you, you used the vibrator. Even on the day he was arriving, when the two of you texted about kinks, you pulled the vibe out even though Ahsoka was due to return any minute. You were halfway to your orgasm when you heard the key in the door, so you turned it off in a hurry, shoved it under your pillow, and pulled up your blanket. You just had to masturbate as soon as you heard about him enjoying thinking about you two doing kinky stuff. That's how crazy Anakin made you. 

One short hour later, Anakin was with you. You were trying your best to be normal around him, but that was an impossible mission. When Ahsoka brought up Jake in front of Anakin, you died inside. It wasn't like that with Jake. Only for Anakin. Then, when she asked if you were dating, you had to deny it, hard, so that Anakin wouldn't think you were telling your roommate how in love with him you were.

But you did love him, and you were about to do your best to rock his world. (This failed, almost immediately. He was about to rock yours, hard.)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Okay. First of all, I won. You touched me first," he said. He was right, you had, but it was unfair. How were you supposed to resist when he asked you like that? He was always telling you what to do teasingly, but when he did it seriously, it set something off within you. You opened your mouth to snark back in defense, but he interrupted you. 

"And, second of all, shut up and kiss me." You rose up on your toes, tangling your hands in his hair and giving him a long look before finally connecting your lips. His kisses were needy and bruising as he devoured you, wrapping his strong arms around your lower back and drawing you to him. Your bodies slammed into one another, connecting from thigh to chest, and you felt him grow harder against you. You definitely weren't imagining it last time, he was big. You mewled into his mouth, and felt him smile against you at your noisiness. Then he grabbed your bottom lip between his, swiping his tongue across it, and you made an even louder noise, which drew a groan from him. As you tilted your heads this way and that, trying to get even deeper, he slipped his tongue past your lips, exploring tentatively. He had a vague aftertaste of mint, and some distant part of your brain registered that he had probably prepared for this with a mint or gum or something. When you started teasing his lips with you tongue, he pulled away, and you feared for a moment that he was about to tell you that you had done something wrong. Instead, he just said, with his telltale smirk and half-lidden eyes full of desire,

"You're such a good kisser. Been practicing without me?" You shook your head no, and that was the truth. Was he worried about someone else? There was no one. There hadn't been anyone but him in your heart for a very long time.

"Good," he growled. You weren't sure what that meant, and it didn't seem like Anakin thought about it before saying it, based on the way his face fell for a millisecond before he recovered his cool. He dove back into kissing you with grace, like that didn't even happen. Somehow, you found yourself pulling him toward you so much that the back of your knees hit the bed, and you almost lost your balance. He caught you with those strong arms and turned you around so that he sat on the bed, with you standing over him. Just like last time, you yearned to be in his lap, so you straddled him. As soon as you sat on his dick, Anakin groaned, and you dragged yourself along the length trapped by his zipper. He rolled his hips in tandem, which only made you intensify your actions, rutting against him and practically bouncing on his lap. At some point, the friction finally rubbed your clit in exactly the right way, and you threw your head back while you rode him as a broken moan tumbled from your lips. The denim skirt you were wearing was intentionally short and tight, and, with your feverish movements, it rode up until it sat on your hips. You could feel the cool air hit your warm pussy and thighs, so knew he could definitely see the lace you were wearing underneath it. You just hoped it was something he liked.

"What are you wearing? Let me see, baby," he cooed. That pet name, baby, and the sultry way he said it, were enough for you to let the hope in your chest that he felt the same way about you flourish. He pushed up the hem just a bit more with his right hand, running his finger along the top of the underwear, back and forth. You were about to scream in frustration, and you tried to thrust into his hand, but he shook his head.

"Patience," he tutted, as if he had any himself. Anakin's thumb moved down the front, tracing you until he reached your clit. He cast a tentative look at you before he touched it, but you tapped him twice with your hand, and he gently pressed against it. Your moan sounded so loud in the small space that you were worried the neighbors would complain, but he kept going. The little bundle of nerves was so sensitive under his touch that you were shocked it could even feel this way, so intense just because someone else was there. Anakin moved his thumb in small circles, the tendons in his hands jumping as he applied more and more pressure. You kept letting out a string of curses and his name, not caring who could hear. This was too good not to enjoy fully. His other hand gripped your hip so roughly that you were certain it would leave bruises that you would masturbate over for weeks.

Just as you felt it all start to build, not quite there yet but definitely on the right track, he drew his hand away. He tugged on your skirt, which was like an extra-thick belt at this point.

"Why don't we get this off you, baby?" You nodded, and Anakin quickly popped the button and helped you stand up and kick it off. You could pick it up later. You felt a bit silly in your crop top and nothing else, so you took it off in what you hoped was a sexy way, lifting it over your head to expose the black lace bralette you had bought just for him. Anakin's gaze was locked onto your body, practically drooling. When your shirt was off too, he grabbed his cock through his pants and stroked it, to your joy. He found you sexy. You didn't know if he loved you, or if he wanted to date you, but, in this second, it was enough just for him to want you.

You climbed back up onto him and tugged at the simple burgundy tee he was wearing, as if to say I want to see you too. He obliged, shirking it quickly. As he did, you took a long look at his bare chest. 

When you were kids, you would go to the pool, so you knew what he looked like shirtless. But he had started training so much more since then, and some of the softness was gone, replaced with nothing but muscle and sinew, taut under your touch. You ran a hand down his pecs, to his abs--he had actual abs-- going lower and lower until you reached the trail of hair under his belly button. Anakin's eyes were following your hand, then flitted up to your face. His skin pressed against yours when he tightened his arms, letting them fall to touch your ass. A tense second passed with you staring at one another before he continued to kiss you feverishly. One of his hands trailed up your body to grab your tits, pawing at them and occasionally rubbing gentle circles where he could feel your nipples hard under the fabric. The feeling was so intense that, as you groaned into his mouth, you kept moving your hips until he grabbed your hips to hold you still.

"If you keep going like that, baby, I'm going to cum," he whispered raggedly into your ear, still holding you tight. Hearing your best friend say those words, so dirty and sexy, almost drove you mad. You wanted to see him try to hold back as you rutted against him, then get overwhelmed by pleasure. Next time, you vowed.

"Can I go down on you?" You asked, not sure of the sexiest way to phrase the question, but it seemed to work for him. He smiled widely, nodded, and leaned back on his arms as you got down to your knees on the floor, sitting between his legs while he stayed on the bed.

Nervousness washed over you again. After this, there was no going back. You would have seen all of him, and touched it. He wasn't just your best friend anymore, he was more if you did this. So much more. And that was exactly what you wanted.

You fumbled with the button of his pants for a second before it finally opened, then you pulled the zipper down slowly. You'd never understood why people found that sound sexy, but, now, it was making you soaked. You were met with his briefs, which had a wet spot on them that turned the grey fabric dark. You grabbed the waistband and pulled them down, following the dark brown hairs until you saw the base of his cock. When you pulled it down, and his cock sprang out, you paused, sitting completely and utterly still. Seconds passed in silence, and Anakin started staring at you.

"You okay?" He asked the question so gently, so caringly with those eyes full of worry that you thought for a moment, just for a second, that you could sense a flicker of love. It was enough to keep you going for years. You nodded up at him, eyes wide, and he cupped your face tenderly. He could tell you were a little worried that you would be bad, but he was going to make it better.

Holy fuck. This was Anakin's cock. Of course, you'd seen photos before of penises. This was something completely different. He was big--almost huge, as far as you were concerned, and thick. The tan skin of his cock accentuated the darker head. The gently upward curve of his shaft was wrapped in veins, some bluish and some purplish, and you felt a pull to trace them with your tongue. At the very tip, a bead of precum was gathering, and you wanted desperately to see if it tasted how you imagined. You looked up into his eyes, and he was giving you a concerned look, like he was about to suggest you pause for your sake. Instead, you reached out one shaking hand to grip the base of his cock, which was so much warmer than you imagined. Anakin hissed at the contact, then muttered out a "good" as you started stroking the base gently. His praise sent a rush of joy and arousal through you, and you vowed to get more. 

You lowered your lips on the tip of his cock, kissing it with your slightly open mouth as Anakin hissed. Your tongue flicked out to lick off the precum, which was salty, musky, and a bit bitter, but definitely better than you expected. You licked your lips before tracing the contours of the head of his cock, teasing the slit and the edge before trying to take some of it into your mouth. You opened your jaw as wide as you could, because, based on what you read, teeth were to be used sparingly. His cock was surprisingly warm and wet in your mouth, and when you glanced up at him from between his knees, his lips were parted and his face had gone slack as he groaned your name. You sank down further on his cock until the entire head was in your mouth. His skin was so smooth under your tongue as you swirled it around, so incredibly delicate. As you started to bob up and down, getting a bit deeper each time, the noises and words started pouring out of him.

"God, that's great--ah, right there baby, fuck, that's my good girl." The words were so dirty, so right. The praise tumbled out of his mouth so easily, and it only made you get more and more frantic on his cock, taking him in deeper and deeper. At one point, you went too deep, and he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. The spasm of your throat around his cock drew out another groan from Anakin, but he gently grabbed your hair and pulled you off.

"Are you alright?" It was your first time gagging around it, taking it deep, and all you could think was how you wanted him to make you do that. To make you gag on him over and over until you couldn't think straight.

"Yeah, Ani, I'm fine. I just--I. I want to do that again," you admitted. He leaned down to kiss you gently, then took your chin in his fingers.

"Can I fuck your throat, baby?" He hid it well, but you could tell he was a bit nervous, most likely worried about hurting you. Anakin was always like that with you, so gentle, so considerate, that it made you all the more certain. You nodded emphatically, because God yes you wanted that, and then he stood up, getting to his full height above you. You shifted to your knees, which were aching from the carpet at this point, then looked up and found yourself in line perfectly with his cock. He dug his fingers into your hair, grabbing hold of it at the root, then started drawing your head closer until he was engulfed in your mouth again. Once he reached a bit of resistance, he drew back and thrust, shallow and quick, then drew back again. Anakin went a bit deeper the next time, then started thrusting faster. The physical feeling itself was nothing compared to the heady rush from the look he was giving you. Anakin was always sunshine, but now he was dark and sinful, using your throat for his pleasure. Your eyes locked, which obviously affected him based on the way he took a ragged breath and tipped his head back.

Watching him get so much pleasure from you made your right hand go down to your pussy, giving it much-needed relief by slipping underneath your underwear and rubbing your clit directly. The stimulation only made you more relaxed, which then allowed him to thrust further into your throat. He was getting faster, so you hollowed your cheeks and put your left hand on his tense thigh, which was almost shaking, before wrapping it around the base of his cock and stroking. Anakin growled and sped up, losing himself in the pleasure of your mouth, about to cum.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna--ah, fuck, I'm cumming," he choked out as he buried himself deep inside you. Your hand sped up as you felt his cock start to spasm. It was thick and warm and incredibly bitter, but it tasted like Anakin, so you swallowed it as the cum slid down your throat in spurts. After he came, he pulled out of your mouth with a sigh, then slid his thumb over your swollen and spit-covered lips.

"That was amazing," he said, out of breath, "How are you feeling?" The hand on your mouth went to your cheek, holding it gently.

"Good," you breathed. "Horny." He chuckled, still panting and looking down at you with genuine adoration. Anakin sat down on the bed, then got on it as he pulled up his briefs to cover up his sensitive cock.

"Come up here. I'll take care of you," he said as he shifted backward onto the bed, leaving space for you to lay down next to him. As he moved, then adjusted your pillow so you could be comfortable, you realized you had made a mistake. You stood up to try and stop it, but it was too late. You hadn't moved the goddamn vibrator. He found it, of course, with a gentle "oh." He held it up for you to see what he had found, and the dread nestled in your stomach. He was so going to make fun of you for this.

"Someone's been practicing on their own, I see," he said with a raised eyebrow as he flicked the on button, sending the tip of the vibrator shaking in a frenzy. Anakin gave you a shit-eating grin. You felt your cheeks and the tips of your ears grow warm.

"Fuck, I meant to move that, I--" He interrupted you with intense eyes. His hair was wild around his face, waves messed by your hands earlier.

"Embarrassed?" Yes, obviously. You nodded, looking away and adjusting a strand of your hair that had fallen into your face from when he fucked it. He was obviously enjoying this more than a little bit, and you started to wonder how much he really enjoyed you being embarrassed in other situations too. If his teasing was all platonic. His grin grew wolfish.

"How many times have you used it?" That caught you off guard. Your teasing was something you had both enjoyed, but the way he turned it into a little game for his own pleasure made you want to be teased by him all the time. Your stunned silence had obviously riled him up, so he kept going.

"Huh? How many times, baby? How many times have you made yourself cum with this?" Oh, he really wanted to know. He brought the still-humming vibrator to the inside of your knee, then slowly started tracing it up your thigh. You jolted, but answered him.

"Got it four days ago. I--five times," you whispered as he brought it closer and closer to where you wanted it. Anakin chuckled, a sound so dark and almost condescending that you could hardly believe it came from your best friend. It flared in your pussy, sending blood to your clit until you could feel your heartbeat in it. The vibrator was so close, you could practically feel it already.

"Twice in one day?" Anakin gritted the question out with a hungry smirk, the dark echo of the one you knew so well. You loved it. You wanted him to devour you and destroy you. You nodded slowly, well aware of how close he was to finally touching you. He finally reached your clit, and gave you one-two-three seconds of pleasure before he switched the vibrator off.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, pulling you by the hips into his embrace on the bed. He shifted to the headboard, so that you were between his legs and laying back on his chest. Anakin was so warm, so comforting behind you as his arms wrapped around you and brought the vibrator back to your clit. When it hummed to life, you turned your face and buried it in his arm, muffling the moans and words you babbled out.

"Ah, FUCK. God yesyesyesyes more, please, Ani!" The vibe never failed you before, and it wasn't now. The stimulation, the aftertaste of cum in your mouth, and the smell of Anakin's sweat and shampoo all mingled together to bring you closer and closer, until you were about to finally--Anakin ripped the vibrator off of you, and your hips thrust up into the empty air as you mewled and cried out for him.

"Fuck, please let me cum! I'm so fucking horny Ani, please," you begged, not even caring about dignity anymore. You needed this, so so fucking badly.

"You want to cum? Fine. You get to cum, but you're gonna do it twice." He pressed the vibrator to you again and gently circled it on you. It was so much, the heat of the room, the strain in your legs, the way your mind was going fuzzy at the edges, filled with nothing but Anakin. You came like you never had before, jolting as your legs shook and making a series of strangled noises that included shouts of his name intermixed with breathy moans. You could hear him, vaguely, curse at the sight in front of him. The waves hit you over and over, extending longer than you thought you could, your pussy twitching repeatedly. But Anakin didn't take the vibrator off you. It almost hurt, but your sensitivity made it overwhelmingly good, like the breath was leaving your chest. Getting back to being able to cum took a minute, but you were feeling it build again, stronger this time. Your abs clenched, and Anakin started to read your tells. He could tell, just like you could, that you were about to cum.

"That's it, baby. Cum again for me, you can do it," he murmured in your ear as you let out a desperate wail and came violently. Your whole body was shaking, back arched, and your breathing was ragged like you had just run a marathon. Your pussy was desperately clenching on nothing as the feeling surged over you, so much stronger this time around. The knowledge that it was Anakin making you cum only made it more powerful. When you had come down from the peak of it, and were just riding out the last aftershocks, Anakin turned off the vibrator and rested his hand on your knee.

"That was perfect, baby. You were so good for me. So amazing," he whispered as he pulled you closer. If you were less floaty and light-headed, you would have thought more of his use of baby, like this was something more than practice. Now that he had touched you like this, you knew that there wasn't any going back, and that you were going to tell him eventually. Tell him how you felt. But not right now. Right now, all that mattered was his strong arms engulfing you, keeping you warm and safe after everything you had done. 

Nearly fifteen minutes passed with him holding you like that before you realized that you should probably pee and change. But he was so comfortable, rubbing your knee with his thumb idly as he monitored you. His hands supported you as you tried to sit up, still tired and shaky from the effort of all of it.

"I should really go pee," you said, obviously unenthusiastic. 

"You okay? Feel good about everything?" When you turned around to look at him, Anakin was so visibly concerned, it was too sweet. His pupils were blown wide, his features soft in the low light. Your heart tugged when you realized this was only making you love him more.

"Yeah, you?" And that was the truth. You did feel good about everything, almost too good. He was so perfect for you, kinky in just the right ways, and you were terrified you wouldn't find that again. When he heard you were alright, he grinned, back to his usual bright, happy self. There was also that. You were terrified you wouldn't find someone who loved you this much, even if he only loved you as a friend.

"Fuck yeah. Alright, go clean up," he said. His hands on your lower back gave you a gentle push to help you get going. With your PJs, you stepped into the bathroom you shared with the double bedroom next door, locking both doors, and tried to wipe up the wetness on your underwear. There was no use, they would go straight into the wash. Whatever. You tossed them into your hamper and got ready for bed.

When you left the bathroom, you were shocked to find Anakin naked in the middle of the room, halfway through changing. It felt almost normal, which was weird, given that you couldn't conceive of him having a penis a year ago. He noticed your strange look and pulled up his flannel pajama pants.

"What? It's not like you've never seen me naked before," he joked with a wink. You supposed that was true, but this seemed very... intimate, somehow. The first time was practice, but what was this?

"Oh, could you grab my phone charger? It's in the big pocket of my backpack," he called idly from the bed. His shirt was still off, and the flannel pants sat low on his hips, so you found your eyes roving over the wide expanse of his chest. On your way back to the bed from the bathroom, you stopped by the bag he had left on the floor. As you dug through it, you found underwear (ew, though really not ew because you had just had his cock down your throat ten minutes ago), his computer, and a couple shirts, but no tell-tale charger cord.

"I don't think it's in here," you said to him, but you stuck your hand deeper into the layers of his overstuffed backpack. This must be what performing a colonoscopy is like, you thought. Your fingers closed around something thin, wrapped up with what felt like a crumpled paper, and you started fishing it out. He was notorious for stuffing paper in his bag without thinking in high school, and you once found his report card somewhere in the depths of it during senior year. It was from four years ago. You chuckled to yourself at the memory as you finally got the knot loose, along with the crumpled paper trapped within it.

You unwrapped it carefully. The piece of notebook paper looked frequently used but recently discarded, and was covered in Anakin's distinctive scrawl. Your flitted over the first line, expecting to read something about resistors. Instead, you saw something else. Since we were kids, I've considered you my closest friend. You kept reading.

"Anakin, what the fuck is this?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @doblasftcisco @aliciaasky @cultofsin @avalovesjoe1 @akixxrafiiy @princearthur4 @sythethecarrot

[seventh-district]

wow!!! nothing better than watching your AO3 subscribers stat go down every time you post a new chapter of your current fic!!!

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes: 

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now. 

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing. 

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it) 

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[prodbyton]

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret chapter 4: library shenanigans

written wc. 1.3k warnings: sex mentioned

a sudden feeling of impending doom shot through antons body. he needed to leave, and fast. how (un)fortunate of you to walk into the library while he was also at the library. he kept his head low as he saw you walk by him, eyes never leaving you until you were completely out of his line of vision. there was no way he would be able to get any studying done while you were here at the same time as him. 

you probably didn't even notice he was there, and its not like you two have ever interacted, so there was no reason for him to be so distracted. anton took a deep breath and let himself fall back into focusing on the sound of the soft music playing in his headphones and the contents on his laptop screen. 

anton figured you didn’t know about him, but you did. in fact, you followed him to the library. you saw him walk in about 20 minutes ago, and you decided that you’d wait some time before walking into the library yourself. you also saw the way he tensed up the moment he saw you, but you played it off as if you didn’t see him and walked straight past him like you’ve done plenty of times before. you waited another 15 minutes, strolling through the endless isles of books and even looking through a few before you made your way back to the table that anton was sitting at. 

you were behind him, so he didn't feel your presence until he heard your voice. 

“is this seat taken?” you move closer to him, leaning on the chair that was next to him. he looks up at you and freezes, eyes going from your face to your hand that was on the chair, and anton felt like he forgot how to speak. he opened his mouth to say something, but he just stared dumbly at you before nodding and letting out a small no. of course antons brain and voice decide to betray him when the girl he’s liked for a month is finally acknowledging his presence. 

you smiled to yourself as you sat down, watching as antons body got impossibly more tense than it already was. you kept a safe distance from him, not wanting to make him too nervous but close enough where you could feel his body heat. 

anton felt like he couldn't move. he didn’t know if he should say something or continue to study, but it wasn't like he would be able to focus when you were this close to him. it was one thing for you to be in the same vicinity as him, but to be this close was killing him. especially when he knew that he shouldn't like you in the first place. he honestly thinks that knowing that you were off limits amplified his feelings even more, and maybe he should indulge in this moment before it's over and he’ll have to let go of his crush in order to not lose one of his best friends. 

you were completely oblivious to the internal war anton was battling, thinking he was just some guy who had never felt the touch of a woman before. he was lucky you found him so attractive, because it was almost laughable to you how he has only said one word to you. after another minute of almost uncomfortable silence, you look at antons laptop to see him conveniently working on physics, the one class you both shared which made it a lot easier to let your plan to fall into place. 

“wanna study for the physics exam together?” your tone was slightly teasing, but you were still serious in your offer. anton froze once again, his fist clenched before he realized he was taking a bit too long to reply to you. 

“um, yeah i guess-” he spoke slowly, as if he was contemplating the answer as he was talking. but you didnt want to give him time to take his answer back, taking his shy yes as your green light to pull out your laptop from your bag. 

“good, i swear i felt like i was going to fail this class if i didn't have anyone to study with”

“well, i dont think i’m that good,” anton let out a nervous chuckle, looking at the way you watched him with an amused look on your face. anton hasn't felt this nervous around a girl in so long, and he was honestly embarrassed that he was acting like he’s never spoken to a girl before in front of you of all people.

“i’m sure you’re doing better than me in this class, and it's always better to study with someone else, isn't it?” you lean closer into him, letting your hand rest on his thigh right before his knee, and you smile when you feel the muscle tense under your touch. antons eyes immediately look down to your hand, your hand that was touching him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to check if he was dreaming. 

anton once again wasn't able to speak, and all he could do was nod at your words while you kept your eyes on him.

it might actually be a nightmare, because when he opens his eyes to see your hand still on him, he feels his dick twitch in his pants. anton wasn't a virgin, and he would consider himself pretty experienced, but something about you made his body react the way he would when he was 15. his body language didn't go unnoticed by you, in fact it made the smile on your face grow wider. 

you’re thinking it's going to be a lot easier to get into his pants than you thought. but right now, you’ll give him a little break. you take your hand off his leg and you can hear him let out a huff, which you can't tell if it’s out of relief or sadness.

putting your thoughts aside you really did need to study, and anton was pretty good at physics and you got a good amount of studying in. just when you felt like anton was finally feeling less tense around you, your phone started vibrating on the table. when he took a glance at your screen and saw the caller id, he was tensed up all over again. it was wonbin. 

“hold on, my brothers calling me” you grab your phone, clicking on the green answer button before putting your phone up to your ear “hello? yeah… im at the library” fuck, please dont come to the library “okay, ill meet you over there” anton tries his best to not look like his heart was beating in his throat, looking across the library when you finally place your phone back on the table. “sorry, i have to go meet my brother at the music department. can i have your number? that way we can plan another study session. if you want to, of course”

“i do!” he responds a little too quickly and a little too enthusiastically, amd he clears his throat before speaking again and you have to hold back the laugh that wants to escape you at his excitement. “uh, i’m usually busy with swim practice until late at night, so i’ll let you know when i'm free” you nod at his words while you pack your things back into your bag, and anton watches you the entire time until you’re getting out of your seat.

“okay, ill text you later. see you around anton” you let your hand rest on his shoulder, dragging across his skin over his shirt before your fingers brush against his neck as you walk away. he shudders, and he continues to watch you walk away until you weren’t visible to him anymore. you giggled to yourself on your walk out, knowing you have anton exactly where you want him. 

on the other hand anton was sitting with his head in his hands at the library table, wondering how the hell he was going to keep all of this a secret from wonbin and how the hell he was going to be able to be around you without feeling like he was going to explode.

m.list | prev | next

a/n: anton needs to get it together… stand tf up…

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

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[sammis-svsss-brainrot]

Theoretically if I were to host an event in which the Scum Villain Fandom tried to write PIDW would people be interested?

I discussed this with my good friend @spaced-out-scribbles a while back but here few details that I have in my head, please stop me if someone has already done something like this before

As we all know PIDW, written by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, was the source material that Shen Yuan transmigrates into

So wouldn't it be funny to have a "canon" source material for people to reference?

Step 1 would be to compile every reference to PIDW in SVSSS to figure out how long Binghe's white lotus arc lasted and how long actual plot occured before it devolved into shitty smut

Step 2 would be to compile a list of fic writers and maybe artists perhaps that would be interested in recreating PIDW based off of the information occuring in Step 1

A discord server is put together with everyone interested in this project

There could maybe be a list of people assigned to each referenced arc that would maybe hold applications the way that a zine would perhaps? With people applying to write specific portions of PIDW if they wanted to write the marriage of a specific wife or a portion of a specific arc

And anyone else that wanted to participate is assigned a random wife number and told to go wild with the longest, shittiest description of how Luo Bingge was a total stallion lead, and married his new wife of the week

All of these fics and/or accompanying art are submitted to a GIANT ao3 collection (bonus points if everyone involved creates a pseud that's named as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for this project) and with everyone's contributions all put together you get a semblance of what PIDW would have looked like

Bonus points if no one else has any idea what happened in a previous wife plot, so the story is not at all coherent towards the later chapters, because I fully believe Airplane had no idea what the fuck he's written before as he got to the end of PIDW

Someone is assigned to write the final shitty ending that made Shen Yuan so mad he died and transmigrated

If anyone wants to contribute to PIDW after the project, the collection could remain open but moderated to make sure chapter numbers/wife numbers stay consistent and that's about it

Obviously this would be a huge project to wrangle and would need a lot of people involved to actually make it work and take a lot of time, so if this is something people are actually interested in, it would more than likely not be able to come to fruition until the start of 2025 at the absolute earliest with all the prep work it would take to get a project like this accomplished but I thought I'd throw it out there to see if people would be interested, so reblog to spread the word if this is something you'd like to see!

Once again, if someone has already done something like this please let me know, I've only been in this fandom for like a year and a half so I'm aware that a lot of fandom events have occured before my time in the fandom