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taeescript · 3 years

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29+1 (Part Three - Finale)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader?!?!)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (fluff & definite smut)

𝔴𝔠: 10.7k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ only. descriptions of sex (are you really that surprised after the last part?): including rejected then unrejected condom use (practice safe kids), possible more unprotected drunk sex, one night stands, lots more mentions of sex, slight unrequited love, more sexts, and Seokjin being a downright meanie (redemption arc?!)

𝔞/𝔫: each part just gets longer - sorrynotsorry. but here is the finale. life gets messy, but we only ever really learn from failures, right? feedback and comments are forever welcomed. as always, enjoy (:

part one | part two

The two of you fumble in the darkness into the room. The majority of guests have since returned home, but there is still loud music and the rhythms of its bass punctuating through the ceiling into the floorboards of the upstairs.

You had initially suggested any of the guest rooms but Seokjin had said that if there was going to be sex, it would be done in Junho’s bedroom where the bed is the softest and the pillows the fluffiest.

After a brief and awkward encounter with the security guard who had rejected the two of you away from the staircase leading upstairs, Seokjin had led you up the back entrance where only the occupants of the house could navigate to.

“No, fuck this is weird. Junho is going to sleep here tonight,” Seokjin suddenly says.

Your fingers fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt, but it has been tucked in so tightly it now hangs halfway undone.

“He’s your best friend. He’s probably heard you fucking through the walls when you were university roomies. Can you undo your own buckle? It’s making your shirt get caught,” you say hastily.

The door slams shut behind you, as he pushes you roughly against it. His kisses are heated, making you claw at his bareback as he works on your request.

“Where’s the – ”

“Zipper’s on the side,” you manage to rasp out. The knot in your abdomen tightens when your dress comes loose and falls to the ground.

You do not know how the two of you make it onto the bed. The room swirls with you as he throws you onto the sheets.

From the light casted in through the windows, you find yourself dwarfed by the silhouette of his broad shoulders and muscular torso. You scoot back to make room for him on the bed, the only thought overwhelming your mind is the need to feel this man on you.

He growls, hitting his shin on the jutting edge of the bed. He swears quite loudly (and foully), but it doesn’t stop him from advancing, eyes lusting over the rise and fall of your breasts and the glisten between your legs.

“Fuck,” he says again, coming onto you with a ferocity of an animal in heat. He pins your arms above your head and begins to lower himself down.

“Wait!” you suddenly scream. It makes him balk in his advance. “You might have good genes, but I’m not risky any bratty children even if my eggs are shriveling up by the second.”

He brings his hips closer to you once again.

“Seokjin! Protection? Condom?”

His eyes scan the room wildly. “It’s fine. I don’t want any of your bratty children either,” he brushes aside your concern.

You sit up. “Fuck no. How am I sure that you’re not going to pass on something weird to me? We’re using one.”

He pulls open the drawer next to the bed but comes up empty handed.

“You don’t have one,” you say when it hits you, “Mr. I’m-Prepared-For-Anything was not prepared for this.”

You see him hunker down in the slightest, bringing a hand in front.

“I don’t get how I’m supposed to anticipate when I have sex. But for your information, I do. It’s just the one I have might be old and ineffective.”

Laughing, you push him onto the bed and reach down to where your small purse had been discarded for the night. You wonder if he has comprehended the impact on your sexual drive when telling you that he carries old condoms.

The deep moan escapes from him before he can stop it. Your hand holds his shaft as you slip the protective latex over it. Then before he can say anything more, you lower yourself onto him.

...

Drunk sex can be fun, but for the most part, it is mostly just downright messy.

You hope he does not remember when you had been moving just a little too roughly, ended up sitting on him at an awkward angle and causing him to yelp in pain. You also hope that it had been your imagination in throwing up just a little bit when he had his dick shoved up your mouth.

Right now, however, is pure bliss.

Your fist tightens your hold on his hair and the other hand pushes against the headboard of the bed. Your panting increases as you continue to gyrate against his lips and tongue, his nose burying itself and hitting the bud every so often.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, buckling when he grips your ass.

You have lost track of time. You don’t care if Junho doesn’t make it to his bedroom tonight. All you know is that twenty minutes ago you had tried to fall asleep only to find Seokjin nibbling your ear and hands slipping beneath your pubic line. Not to mention the hardening of his boner against your back.

“Oh god,” you breathe again. The thought of the aforementioned sends you into a deeper lust.

You are torn out from your thoughts when you notice that he is saying something at the moment. Looking down at him, your heart skips a beat in seeing the mess you have made on his face.

The air is sickly with the scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume and his cologne.

“I want to fuck you,” he is saying in nearly a moan, “I need to fuck you.”

He removes himself from under you. On his knees behind you, he pulls your hips towards him and your face falls onto the sweat soaked pillowcase. He is not gentle when widening your stance so he can enter from behind. A hand is firmly pushing on the crook of your back, and the silent ‘o’ of your face reflecting back upon the mirror over the bed sends a painful spasm down. His erection grows impossibly bigger.

He moves at a merciless pace, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body and the room fills with lewd sounds of skin slapping and sucking as you take in the length of his shaft. Reaching around so that he can only stretch your walls further and ram into you deeper, his fingers circle your clit to hit it in a way that brings tears into your eyes at the stimulation. He is content when a line of profanities mingled with his name stream out from your mouth.

“Come for me, baby girl. Come for daddy.”

Your words hitch in your throat upon hearing his command. With all your will, you push yourself away from him and turn to face him.

His chest glistens as he kneels erect in front of you. The thoughts that swirl around in your mind right now; the things that you want for him to do; the things that you want to do. The things you are willing to beg to do.

“Let’s get this straight. First things first, I am not your baby girl,” you say, bringing yourself up to your knees. His lips are swollen and he does not hide the way his eyes rake over every inch of your body as you are before him.

“Secondly,” You grab him and pull him down with you so that your back hits the bed first. “You’re going to fuck me like this.”

Your fingers are coated in your arousal when you guide him so that he slides his entire girth between your folds. You watch as his tongue flicks out and swirls around two of your digits before he gorges them to the knuckles. The sound he makes at this moment sends you hurtling towards the edge.

“And third,” you stop yourself short, biting onto his shoulder while he begins to thrust into you again. “You’re going to come first, Daddy.”

You cannot prepare yourself for the impact. He brings your legs above his shoulders, moving at a pace and depth that you did not think he was possible of until now. Your nails rip into the skin of his back, your chanting of his name like a prayer for him to keep going.

He feels you shaking beneath him, and god, you are so incredibly sexy even with your hair plastered across your forehead. He knows that you are about to tip over but he cannot disobey your order. You mewl in displeasure when he stops, his head in you just far enough to stretch the beginnings of your walls.

“Me first, right?” His eyes do not leave your face. Anther few inches deeper.

You meet him with an angry kiss, grasping for him. He slides the entirety of himself in, and the muscles of his glutes tense at the impact. Letting him ride until he has reaches his high, you bring him even closer to you as you feel his warmth spread through you. He dips down, cleaning you with his tongue, and his lips do not leave yours until you have released yourself over the curling of his fingers.

The both of you are panting heavily as you lay side by side on the king-sized mattress with its silk sheets and lavish satiny blanket. There are unceremoniously dumped rubbers on the floor. You pull the sheets over yourself to cover the stark nakedness you feel, and you inhale sharply at the realization that indeed, you just had sex with your boss.

You hiccup, and a loud burp erupts from you filled with the aftertaste of high-end liquour. You giggle, still ever so slightly inebriated from the events of the night.

“You’d better not be this drunk next weekend,” Seokjin says from beside you. He takes a corner of the sheets and covers himself as well. Even his voice electrifies you. You have to hold your breath for a moment to will yourself to not crawl back closer to him.

“Don’t worry. This is why we did this dry run,” you reassure him.

The house has been quiet for a while and somewhere in the distance, you hear the chime of a bell. It indicates that it is very well past midnight at this point. “I really hope that Junho doesn’t sleep in here tonight,” you say, still staring at the ceiling.

“I texted him,” is Seokjin’s reply.

You turn your head and look at him, face stoic. He returns with a look of his own, the dark pupils of his eyes only beginning to ease the previous hunger. Your heart does a painful leap, and you return your gaze back upon the ceiling.

“Did you have a condom on?”

There is no response. You see that his eyes are closed and there is a gentle rhythmic movement of his chest.

You turn your back to Seokjin’s sleeping form and do not wake from your slumber until early the next morning.

Well, shit.

...

It is the day before the Silver Gala. Taehyung had asked you if you wanted to grab dinner with him. You agreed, and went home first to freshen up before meeting him at the restaurant as he had to stay later at the office to finish up some work.

You hadn’t known exactly what to expect on the Monday when you returned to work. The following day after the whole escapade (ahem sexcapade), you had met with Jimin and Taehyung as previously planned. Neither commented on your choice to wear a scarf despite the humid summer weather. Brunch had been pleasant enough, but your mind had been distant throughout the entire afternoon.

You had felt guilty lying to your own brother when asked how your night out had been, and since Taehyung had not brought it up, you had chosen not to speak to him about it either. And that desperately killed you because you had discovered that you did not like keeping secrets from him. You liked being able to talk to him about anything and everything on your mind.

When you dropped Jimin off at the airport a few days after brunch, he had made a small comment about how he’s glad you’ve found someone to talk to. He had been worried that his little sister would be alone throughout her internship. You had reassured him that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but thank him for his concern nonetheless. You even reassure that you have only about a two and a half weeks left of this work contract, and that you may just decide to return home for a while. He had given you a much longer hug than anticipated, then said, “Good people are hard to come by.” You had asked him what he meant by that but all you received was a cryptic smile.

The days had continued to roll by uneventfully. No longer did you have lunch meetings with your boss. Not that you had minded, considering the pile of work that seems to be growing on your desk. And the minor fact that whenever you looked at your boss all you could see was his naked sweaty body.

You have noticed, however, that he has been just a little bit kinder to you. He is a little more courteous; you catch a small “thank you” one morning when you deliver his coffee. You even contemplate on not submitting the Starbucks receipt for reimbursement as a small gesture of gratitude to him for taking care of you (in more ways than one) that night.

All in all, things had been running fine.

Okay, okay. You may have omitted one big thing; let’s do a tiny bit of a rewind.

To begin, your thoughts on the situation are completely valid. The two of you had been consenting adults. Sure, some alcohol may have been involved, but when you break it down, the two of you had an itch that only the other could have satisfied that night. Nothing wrong with that.

So why the night after meeting Jimin and Taehyung in the morning for lunch had you taken a photo exposing more than just your toes. Of course, you hadn’t sent it (you’re not trying that desperately to ruin your own life), but it sits in your gallery a button away from flying.

It is this photo that you stare at while sitting on the toilet, minutes away from leaving the house. Your fingers hover over the trash can icon. You had to admit to yourself that you looked good. The red frilly garter set that sat at the back of your lingerie drawer had not been used since…well, it just hadn’t been used. But seeing yourself all dolled up made you feel sexy and extremely confidant.

“Just delete it,” you whisper into the air. “Why are you keeping it anyways if you’re not planning on sending it. And if you truly want to send it in the future, you could always take a new one. But also: delete it.”

Seriously though. You find yourself extremely frustrated in the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a photo of yourself. And in all honesty, you felt a little sad if it were to be permanently gone. Like a missed chance to show someone just how good you could look.

Let’s find your name beside the definition of “narcissistic”.

“Fuck it,” you say, pulling your pants up. You zip up the jeans and stick your phone in the back pocket, turned off and conundrum forgotten.

You are putting a final brush of lip gloss when your phone buzzes on your vanity table.

7:48pm “Hey Y/N. Sorry I’m running a little bit late. I just need another five minutes.”

You promptly reply.

7:48pm “No worries. I can go to the restaurant first and get us seats. Pick out a wine or something for us to share?”

Keys, wallet, extra cash. All check. You glance at your phone again and see that Taehyung has yet to reply. Knowing him, he is probably rushing right now trying to finish whatever it is. He hated being late and keeping people waiting.

Buzz.

7:50pm “I need to see you.”

You stare at the text, feet frozen on the ground. Your palms suddenly get strangely clammy and the more you stare at the text, the more the words seem to shift and blur in your eyesight. Your heart is thundering as you type a response.

7:53pm “At the office?”

His text back comes immediately.

7:53pm “No. My house. I’ll send you the address.”

Indeed, the address is shot through, and you recognize the street name as part of an expensive neighbourhood with fancy buildings and bougie restaurants. Surely, it must not be professional for you to go up directly to your boss’ place of personal living. Also, what would he need you for that could not be done at the office, the place of work?

You desperately wish you had somebody to talk this over with, but Jimin knew nothing about you and Seokjin, and neither did Taehyung. Besides, the latter was still at work. Taking a seat on the stairway by the door, you decide to consult the next best thing: Google.

“Booty call (n): someone who receives a text or call by a bastard between the times of 12am – 3am for a hookup. The bastard will usually greet the booty call with a simple ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’”

You nervously bite on your fingernail. Technically, it is only 8pm. He also did not greet with “hey” or “what’s up?” but then again, he never texted you before. His direct message may as well have been the equivalent of “hey” or “what’s up?”. Swallowing, you scan through the next part of the text definition.

“The bastard enjoys using the booty call for sex and nothing else. No friendship is involved.”

You set the phone down beside you. Two consenting adults. An itch that only the other could satisfy. No. Seokjin’s lame ass probably wouldn’t even know what a booty call was. It’s always about work with him.

8:00pm “I want you”

8:00pm “Right now.”

You suddenly see yourself in that garter set again with its frills and open hearts in all the wrong/right places.

...

Seokjin drums his fingers on his bar table impatiently. He had sent you the text over half an hour ago and had not received a single response. He ponders if you had even received the text message or if you were already drinking the night away, as you had often told him would be your Friday evening.

Meandering over to his personal shelf of liquor, he uncaps a bottle of whiskey and prepares an iced glass.

He hopes that you will be the answer to his problem. If somebody had asked him only a few weeks ago if he could have ever envisioned himself in this situation, he would have denied it vehemently. However, the weekend with you had had him contemplating things over and over in his head all week.

Most thoughts were often of matters strictly at hand, but sometimes he found himself staring into space after a particularly sinful image of you interrupts his client meeting. It also hadn’t helped that with the incoming heat wave summer brings, the general population elects to wear a little less than usual, and you being in that halter dress had done him zero favours.

Blinking, he realizes he has poured a little more than his usual amount of whiskey. He exhales sharply, duly noting the slight increase in his heartbeat, and clears his throat despite being the only person home. There is the low rumbling of a car engine in the background, and he is reminded of a moan that suspiciously resembles an employee he cannot wipe out of his mind.

He checks his phone once again to see if there had been any missed messages while combing his fingers through his hair. The least you could do would be to at least send some type of message of whether or not you wanted to come. He wouldn’t be offended – it is slightly inappropriate to be seeing you outside of the office (you as his plus one as an exception) – but he knew he would be more offended if you simply left him hanging.

The sip of whiskey helps ease the tension around his neck after sitting in video conferences all day. Without much of a thought, he swipes the barstool beside him and inspects it of dust.

The doorbell rings.

You are tugging at the jacket you have chosen for the occasion: the longest one you own. During your Uber over, you had tried your best not to make eye contact with the driver, but you do not know if that had made him more or less apprehensive of his passenger. You knock this time, the itch building beneath the jacket.

“Did you tour the city?” he says with a drawl when he opens the door.

You meet his eyes shyly. They are regarding you with amusement. There is the smell of robust acidity when you brush past him to enter his penthouse. The lights are dimmed in the space except for a bulb hanging over the enormous kitchen island counters. A wall of expensive bottles line one side of the wall, and you spy the culprit of the previous smell on the bar table.

He continues to watch you with a bemused smile as you stand transfixed at the large space decorated with post-modern furniture. Most of it is a near clinical white, but a splash of pink and greens accent the walls or as a central statement piece.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks.

Startled, you glance at his wall. You recognize none of the labels and tell him that you’ll just take whatever it is that he has. You stand in your spot and watch as he rolls back his sleeves to pour you a drink. Your fingers clutch and pull the jacket around your shoulders tighter around your body as you are reminded of the muscles beneath the set of his light tunic and velvet trousers.

He hands the drink to you, noticing how cold your fingertips are when they brush against his. This is the first time he has seen you with your hair fully down and not in the work day ponytail you often sport. He notices the flush of pink blush you have applied and the same scent of perfume he has smelled before. Your legs are bare and he can’t help but wonder where you had been planning to go before he had called you to be dressed up like so. He also notices how often you are picking at your jacket.

“Sit.” He gestures to the couch. “You can take off the jacket if you want. I don’t have a coat hanger so drape it over a chair if you want.”

It may have been his imagination, but you seem to turn an even lighter shade of pink.

“R-Right now? You want me to undress now?”

He crosses his arms across his chest. Even though the tunic is loose-fitted, it does not hide the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his deltoids. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. The jacket is borderline hideous so maybe keep cover whatever else you’ve got planned underneath there.” He takes a seat across from you and crosses a long leg.

You can feel your entire body heating up as he runs his eyes up and down your body. It should not be possible for someone to look as good as he did simply sitting, swirling his cup lazily with the barely there smirk.

No friendship. Just sex.

You throw back the drink, nearly gagging at the unfamiliar taste. “I haven’t ever really done this before, so I’m just going to go for it,” you say. You stand and inhale deeply. Taking a few steps forward, you walk towards him.

Seokjin watches as you come closer. He sees as you begin to fumble at the buttons of your jacket. In one swift motion, you have suddenly ended up straddled on his lap.

You press your lips against his, gripping the back of his head and interloping your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair. He tastes like the sweet whiskey you had both shared and an undertone of mint. You press your own heated body against his chest.

“What in the – ” he says, pushing you off him. He is stopped short only when his eyes land on what you had been concealing beneath the jacket.

...

Taehyung had ran as fast as he could from the subway station. Just as he was exiting, he had spied a small flower stand and in the spur of the moment, had decided to purchase a bouquet consisting of magnolias and roses.

He hadn’t meant for the entire thing to have taken that long. He had planned the speech in his mind for days prior, and had even rehearsed it in front of his mirror that morning of. Yet when it came time, and they were standing before one another, his mouth had simply went dry.

He hopes that you haven’t been waiting long, as the five minutes he had texted you about had turned into a solid thirty. He knew there would be raised voices, and he knew that there might even be tears. But he had not anticipated his own feeling of sadness in knowing that there was truly no going back.

“Um, table for two? I think my friend may already be here,” he says to the hostess when he arrives.

Her fingers deftly flip through a few pages of her book. “Do you have a name?”

Taehyung offers yours. “But I don’t think we have a reservation. She may have walked in a while ago?” He proceeds to give a simple description of what you look like. The hostess shakes her head; Taehyung thanks her and shuffles to the side so that the couple behind him could have their turn.

8:42pm “Hey, Y/N. Sorry again. I just arrived. Text me where you’re sitting? I have something that will hopefully make it up to you.”

He leans against the wall, trying his best to catch his breath while ignoring the frantic thumping of his heart. He still does not know if what he did was for the best. He doesn’t know what this could mean for his own future. All he knows is that he needs to speak to you first.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Another fifteen.

He has sent you another text with similar words as the first, but has yet to receive any reply. Calling you has only lead to your voicemail, and knowing that you are not an avid checker of that, he was not able to leave you a message there either. Deciding that maybe you had gone to the bathroom or perhaps you had simply not arrived yet but stuck in traffic elsewhere, he sends you once last text.

9:12pm “Call me when you receive this. I have something important to tell you.”

One incoming text.

Taehyung grips the bouquet harder, missing the vibrations of his phone. His mind is preoccupied with the other speech he has prepared once he is able to see you face to face.

9:13pm “Fuck you, Kim Taehyung. For the record, you’re not the one breaking up with me. I am. I hope the two of you burn in hell together.”

...

Your entire face is burning hotter than your body had been minutes earlier. You have returned to the seat you had been in originally and Seokjin had moved to the further end of the couch across from you. You are no longer only in the bright red lingerie from before, but in a collared shirt that he had thrown to you after he had thrown you off.

Seokjin clears his throat. He keeps his gaze on either your face or somewhere behind you. He does his best not to comment at the fact that he can still see the red of your thong beneath the sheer shirt he had given you. The shirt dwarfs and swallows your smaller body in it. While he might have commented that you looked cute, he shifts himself uncomfortably in his seat after accidentally (?) glancing at your nipples which protrude beneath the thin material. He gropes awkwardly for a throw pillow but notes that it is on the end of the couch closer to you. He crosses his legs instead.

“So what exactly did you think I called you here for?”

Maybe you could just casually fake a stomachache to escape. But it’s a little too late now. Not that you could exactly run outside looking like this. You slide a little lower in the couch, the cheap material of your thong digging into slits that it should not be digging in. You had spied that the heart shaped cut outs of the top were evident through the transparency of the top, so you had elected to take it off when given the privacy to change. Now you wonder if that had been the correct choice as you are nearly certain that the constant rubbing on your boobs on the shirt would make other things evidently pop.

“You were the one who said that you wanted me. Here I quote: “I want you. Right now.” You show him your phone with the receipts.

He barks out a curt laugh, pushing your phone back to you. He ignores the missed button of your shirt that has exposed more of your skin when you had leaned forward with your phone. “I meant I want you here right now. I’ve been stuck at home in international meetings all day, and wanted to speak with you so I could have my dinner in peace after. I didn’t need you to waste any more of my time by waiting by the doorbell until whenever was convenient for you.”

“Well I’m sorry… You could have maybe switched around your words,” you mutter beneath your breath. Peaking beneath your lashes, you can tell that he has pretended not to hear you. He wets his lips with his tongue before sipping again at his drink. When he removes the cup, they glisten with moisture and look delectably soft and plush.

He can see that you are watching him. Your somewhat shy demeanor at the moment throws him off, and he has to adjust the way he sits again. “Hasn’t anyone taught you proper posture?” he chastises you. Your slouching had only drawn the large shirt up your legs. After you adjust the way you are positioned, he reaches over to a folder that had been on the wooden coffee table. He hands the package to you. “This is the reason that I wanted to talk to you.”

There are pages upon pages of the contract. The words with line after line of legal terms and jargon make you blink several times.

“Isn’t this basically what Yerin does?” you ask once you have breezed through it quickly.

He has returned to sipping at his drink. In the light (and your own soberness), you note how quickly he glows under the influence. You swallow the laugh before it can escape, thinking how much he looked like a little chibi character with his over-dramatic blush.

“Yerin’s due for a contract renewal. I also know that your contract is about to expire as well. In all honesty, you have done more work around the office than she or anyone has.”

“I mean, I’m honoured. But look at the two of us right now. I don’t want the rest of the office to think I’ve slept my way into a position. I’ll be fine after my contract expires.” You say the last sentence as consolation to yourself and him.

He shakes his head. “She gave me her resignation letter last week. She’s moving with her fiancée. I now have a vacant position and I need it filled immediately. I believe that you’d be a good fit.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “A lifestyle of getting Starbucks orders that run into next week? Can’t exactly say it’s all that enticing to be working for a spawn of Satan.”

This time he laughs loudly audibly. “Is that what you think of me? I’d thought you’d at least be more creative when coming up of nicknames.” He stands and walks back to his liquor cabinet. Returning, he refills both of your cups with a new dark liquid.

“I need time to think about it,” you tell him honestly. “As you have probably figured out, I didn’t exactly plan on being offered a job tonight.”

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. The neck of his shirt falls, opening up to a dangerous black hole to his chest. “I still can’t believe you thought I had texted for a booty call.”

You lean forward and match his stance. “Your text was seriously misleading, okay? Besides, we haven’t exactly talked about what happened last week so I’m sorry for misinterpreting the weird signals you’ve been putting out.”

“I’ve been sending weird signals.”

“Yes. You haven’t spoken to me all week.”

“I told you, I’ve been in a lot of meetings with our new development plan. You’re not exactly a saint yourself by the way; coming in with new outfits everyday and sashaying deliberately in front of my room to the kitchen.”

You hadn’t known that he had picked up on your new wardrobe, let alone your dumb plan of checking in on him while you go get food. “I didn’t know if we were just going to pretend that it never happened or if, I don’t know, there was something.”

“Do you want there to be something?”

“I said I don’t know.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m nearly 30 years old. I’ve worked over a dozen unrelated jobs. I’m currently an intern slash personal assistant slash whatever job position you have just offered me. I live in a tiny apartment and spend my weekends either home alone or at a bar with a singular friends. I don’t think I’m exactly screaming sexy vixen here.”

You do not miss the raise of his eyebrow at your last sentence.

“I don’t believe your age needs to have anything to do with your accomplishments,” he says.

“Says the younger successful CEO of his own company,” you snort.

“I believe in bringing out the best colours for any employee in my company. I started DailyHive off with just an idea and nobody to explain to me what I should be doing. It is people like an experienced intern or a helpful stranger on the street who helped me figure out how to set a company off. The only thing that should be addressed with one’s age is that they’ve got extra years of wisdom. They don’t offer anything less because of a few less letters after their name; they offer so much more.

Even if an individual doesn’t stay at the company, I am content in knowing that I am able to be a part of an individual’s journey to better themselves.”

You draw your legs up beneath you. “You’re damn lucky to have found your own colour in the world. I’m a year-old tube with dry stuck paint at its opening. I don’t know what I want.” It takes you a moment to see that he is looking anywhere else but you, when you feel a breeze shift along your butt. You lower your legs again.

“So many people are fixated on finding their own colour,” he says with a sigh. His gaze lingers outside his windows overlooking the city’s twinkling lights filled with bustling cars and families winding down for the night. “I think life is really about creating your own palette. Nobody is ever created with a singular colour. We’re multidimensional beings with changing goals and motives. We can love one thing and hate it the next moment.”

You bring your legs even closer to you. Damn him for being so freaking attractive while talking about humans being a paint palette.

“Yeah okay. Again, let me think about this,” you grumble.

He turns back to look at your. His eyes are solemn but kind and understanding. He brings out his phone. “Send me your resume. Even if you decide against it, at least I’ll have you on file. I’ll forward it to Yerin before she goes so she can send it off to HR as needed.”

You nod. “I’ll AirDrop it to you right now before I can change my mind. Give me a moment.” You curse him and his words that have now begun to worm its way into your mind. Swiping distractedly at your cluttered gallery, you click the file and send it over to his phone.

“There,” you say once you have completed the task. You look up when he does not respond, noting that he is staring intensely at his phone. “Yeah I get it. Like I said, a lot of random-ass jobs. But I’ll be working on building my palette as you’ve so elegantly put it.”

“I, uh,” He clears his throat. “Could you send it again? I don’t think I got it.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about? Here let me see. You probably don’t know how to access it.” You reach for his phone.

He retracts his hand quickly, immediately clicking the lock button. “No!” he says loudly, “I know how to access it. Just send it again.”

You shake your head, back to scrolling through your phone when it shuts off on you. He pushes you off his lap. “Uh, I can’t. It just died.” You look up and see that he is distracted by his phone again.

“It’s fine,” he says after a moment. “Just send Yerin an email directly, I guess.”

“Okay,” you say. The two of you glance at each other in silence. “So,” you begin, “This is a little awkward but I hadn’t really thought I would be going home. Dead phone means no Uber.”

“I have an extra guest room,” he says before you can finish. “I’ll have someone drive you home tomorrow.”

“Still got some good pillows and sheets though, right?” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to follow him.

...

He tosses and turns in his bed after the two of you have retired into your separate rooms. A particular image cannot be removed from his eyes, and the subject of said image lies only a few walls apart from where he is. He reaches over for his phone.

You know you should have been able to fall asleep quickly, especially with the silk pajamas he has lent you and the extra soft pillows he has prepared on your behalf. Yet, there is an enticing thought that continues to run scenarios through your mind. You need a cup of water or at least some fresh air to clear such thoughts, and remember seeing a balcony by the dining area.

Padding as quiet as you can to the door, you open it as smoothly as you can to not disturb the owner of the house. You are about to walk through when you find a large wall in your way.

Seokjin stands in the doorframe. He looks down at you, a sensual shadow that makes you choke on your breath.

He holds up his phone, the last image he received lighting up your room.

...

“You’re sure this is what you want?” you ask, peeking from behind the door frame. Seokjin lounges on his bed, one leg up and both his arms spread across the back of the headboard. Your toes curl upon laying eyes at his long limbs with that deceiving baby face.

“That was your original plan when you showed up, no? Might as well go through with it.”

You take a deep breath and walk into his room, back into the garter set of the photo you had unintentionally sent him.

He sweeps over you in one movement. He is suddenly ravenous, and you are exactly what he needs to fill his appetite.

“Turn around,” he states.

You do so. He follows the length of the stockings up your thighs, the barely-there thong that opens up with little heart encasing your skin around the side, front and back. Then the frilly top that leaves nothing up to the imagination as they cling onto your skin in one thin strap.

“Come here,” is his next command.

You approach the edge of his bed, then crawl up towards where he has lounged.

“Sit.” He can barely manage the singular word. You had said you were not a vixen before, but that is all he can envision right now. He pats the spot.

Seeing where his hand rests, you lift it and place it on your body. The heat it emanates travels directly to your core. You then sit where you want, and feel a twitch beneath where you have placed your body. This time, he does not push you away when you weave your fingers into his hair and give him a deep kiss. Your tongue sweeps teasingly along the plump lips you had been eyeing earlier that evening, darting in and out without truly meeting his.

He throbs against your thigh. His hands travel from your back to your waist and finally up to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and gives it a light squeeze. He feels you hum at his movements. Traveling to a soft spot in your neck, he suckles it gently all while rubbing the hardening bud.

“Let me hear you say it again,” he whispers between a nip on your earlobe and leaving a wet trail to the top of your breasts. He slips lower on his back, creating a wider cradle in which you rest within his lap.

You adjust yourself, sucking his full bottom lip. “Daddy,” you sigh. This time the twitch is aggressive and you know that there is a growing wet spot where you sit. You sit up with a small groan as he cups your entire breast in a hand. He brings his lips to it and he suckles on your nipple this time. His tongue brushes against the sensitive skin. One hand trails down your abdomen and brushes against your folds. He presses a thumb that easily slides between to your bud.

“Oh, you are so wet.” The sentence comes out as a breathy erotic moan. “Daddy will take care of you tonight.”

Lifting you off him, he slides out of his pajamas before crouching above your figure. He shares another heated kiss, all the while tugging at the laces that hold your outfit together. Your nails dig and leave red markings down his forearms and back, while you bite back a growing moan and heated drop in your body.

“Tell me what you need,” he exhales.

You close your eyes as his tip presses against your pelvis. Reaching, you take his member into your hands and begin to tug at it. You bring yourself to meet him, then begin coating yourself over the entirety of his shaft. When his body spasms above yours, you circle his tip with your thumb and rub it against your clit.

His breathing increases until it becomes a staggered sob. You feel him tightening and he grunts. Taking him to you again, you draw his face towards you, opening his mouth with a swipe of your tongue. He battles against your tongue with his own all the while you increase the speed at which you continue to roll your wrist along his length.

He shakes again violently, and you know he is at the start of his climb. The growl fills the room when you grab him and deny him of is orgasm. He bites into your lip, drawing the iron taste of blood.

“That’s for last time,” you say, the feeling of pain barely registered above the sensation of pleasure.

“Let’s call it even now,” he says. He loops a finger through one of the cutout hearts of your bottoms and the buttons holding it together separate with a pop. He presses gentle kisses on the soft part of your abdomen, then the squishy part of your pelvis, drawing closer to the middle of your thighs, and all the while leading up to your drenched core.

You cannot do anything else but writhe and moan beneath his tongue.

“You should wear that more often. In different colours. Different styles like a babydoll.” The vibrations along his lips only drive you closer to the edge. He latches onto your clit and continues to drink in the sounds that come out from your mouth. “Such naughty sounds from such a pretty mouth,” he rumbles. You yelp when he pinches your nipple with a force, and that animalistic noise has him drawing back up to you.

Your own hunger is overwhelmed when you taste yourself in the harsh kiss he has given. He lines himself up and begins to thrust deeply into you; his fingers dipping into your mouth as you begin to suck. Crude incoherent growls arise from him, his pace not slowing. His fingers leave so that he can reposition himself and watch as he enters and exits you each time. There is only the sound of heavy breathing from the both of you and finally.

You bring your hips to meet his at the same time that he releases himself all over you. You follow only seconds later, the orgasm so intense that for a moment you are knocked breathless. You then feel his soft tremoring kisses on your forehead, your nose and finally a long one on your lips.

“I really need to watch what I send you,” you whisper. In the dim light of the room, you see a large grin as he presses his forehead against yours.

....

The first rule in one-night stands is that you are to never fall for the person. Boundaries are to be set up and these boundaries are not meant to be crossed. Yet throughout the next day, you find yourself hurtling towards the other side of these boundaries at a dangerous momentum.

There had been more love-making sessions that you would like to care to admit. It just hadn’t seemed right to send you home without first having some breakfast. Then you couldn’t because your phone was not finished charging. By then it had been lunch. It is the day of the Gala anyways so why don’t you just stay and he’ll have somebody swing by your place to pick up your outfit?

You had never known Seokjin to be particularly sweet, with his no nonsense attitude and extremely picky choices as your supervisor. Yet when he had placed a meticulously curated meal before you, you had to admit that he is an extremely good cook who also happened to remember your food choices from the times you had shared lunches together.

No breakfast meats as too much salt straight off the bat made your stomach complain. You hated citrus, so he opted out of that when making salmon for lunch. He had made some homemade pesto pasta instead, knowing that you had often inquired of if green was actually healthier than the usual red or white. He made sure you were fed, kept warm and content.

There had been a brief few hours of the day when he had to be in his home office to take some calls. But that had not been a problem. You had retired back into the guest room to take some much needed sleep, after not having had much the previous night. Then he had joined you in bed when the call was over.

He was also such a different lover when neither of you were intoxicated.

“The Gala is in three hours. Perhaps we should start to get dressed,” he whispers into your hair.

You straddle him, your head on his wide chest and one leg intertwined between his. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and nip at jaw. “Too early. Another hour,” you murmur, your hand already stroking his half hard cock.

The laugh rumbles like an impending thunderstorm. Seokjin had never anticipated how much he enjoyed having another presence in this large, empty void he occasionally called home. He had often felt a sense of dread leaving the office building knowing that he would be away from people and back alone for the next few hours until he could return to work. He liked the feeling of warmth having you in his arms; having somebody to enjoy his cooking; having somebody to share the mundane tasks of everyday life.

He has to make an effort to remove you from him despite the yearning as aftereffects of your teasing. Brushing your hair away from your eyes, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I might not need three, but from our dry run I’ll suggest that you utilize all the time you have,” he says.

You roll over onto your stomach all the while watching as he stands up, previous sheets sliding past his lean torso and revealing him in his entirety. He nearly hops back into bed when he meets your dilated pupils filled with carnal hunger. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says with finality.

Groaning loudly to complain at him for leaving a cold pocket of air in the once warm sheets, you flip back onto your back. You grope blindly at the bedside tables until you find one of his shirts to cover yourself with. Your body shivers when your feet hits the icy floors. You pad over to where you had left your phone charging near the kitchen table and turn it on for the first time since it had died last night.

Your heart does a triple flip when you see the amount of missed calls and texts from Taehyung. Shit.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Taehyung,” you gush immediately.

He sounds tired when he answers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see this until now; my phone had died last night.”

“That’s okay,” he clips the words.

“A-Are you okay?” you return the question. “You said you had something important to talk to me about.” He is not talking to you like he normally does, and that worries you. Something had definitely happened.

“I did. But it’s resolved now. Where were you last night?”

You know that he is genuinely upset at something, whether that something be that you had left him alone for dinner, so you cannot even lie at your whereabouts. You begin to chew at your fingernails as you tell him, “Seokjin called me last night. It was an emergency; he needed me to help him with something. But he’s okay now. And guess what, Tae? He offered me a permanent job! Looks like I’m sticking around just a little bit longer.”

“Huh,” he says. He remains distracted and distant on the call. “Fei is calling me right now. We can talk later.”

“I’ll be at the Silver Gala with Seokjin. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Right. That’s tonight. Have fun.”

“Okay, bye, Tae. Tomorrow, I promise.”

You are met with the end tone of the call. You wince when you hit a sensitive part of your nail bed.

...

There is barely enough time for you to breathe, let alone think about the situation between you and Taehyung, and you and Seokjin.

You are wrapped up in the whirlwind event of the Silver Gala. It passes without a hitch. You act like the perfect arm candy of young playboy (?) worldwide handsome CEO of DailyHive. Despite all the warnings, you are however unprepared to face the hurricane of comments that arise from the night’s events.

Junho had planned for a few reporters to comment on Seokjin’s plain-Jane date. He did not expect the paparazzi to dig into anything deeper and start rumours about the mysterious woman by the side of Kim Seokjin. He did not expect to see blurry photos of the two of them playing golf at his birthday party a week prior.

Nobody expected you to be named his girlfriend.

You hate the attention that it brings. In particular, you hate the whispers from all the coworkers and the stares whenever you enter into the office alone. Just a few days ago, you had walked in on a particularly distasteful conversation in the lunchroom.

“Why would he take her of all people?” you hear someone whisper, oblivious to the fact that you are walking down the hall towards then.

“She tried to fuck my boyfriend.” This voice you do recognize as Fei’s.

“Really? Did you hear she’s got a job offer here? Do you think she’s trying to sleep her way up? You’d better keep an eye out on Taehyung then.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let that slut run her way through here. Not again.”

That last sentence had been said straight to your face. You knew Fei hated you. You just couldn’t be bothered anymore.

You have not spoken to Seokjin since the articles have been released and instead partake in your meals on the roof where not a single soul dares to go in fear of the unrelenting summer sun.

Despite it all, you cannot help but feel a little sorry for him. You were a nobody, and so the dirt that the tabloids had dug up were really quite more like dustballs compared to the information about Seokjin. You know it must be hard for him to have his life scrutinized 24/7. It cannot be easy to have every single action picked apart for some sort of deeper meaning. That daily stress can make even the nicest person a bratty annoying SOB.

It still sucks that you’re a part of it though.

These are the thoughts that occupy your mind and make you unaware of the argument that has unfolded in the conference room.

Having always been looking for your faults, she did not falter when presented with the opportunity to use you as a scapegoat.

“This is extremely unfair. She’s just an intern and she should not have a say in decisions like these,” Fei says, her voice raising, “She’s going to be gone next week anyways.

Your attention snaps up towards them. A few minutes ago, Seokjin had asked for your opinion regarding DailyHive’s upcoming year development plan. You want to correct her in saying that it’s technically the week after that. Additionally, there is the fact that you would return after.

Seokjin sits a little straighter in his chair. “I don’t understand what Y/N has got to do with any of this. The issue I have is with your – ”

Fei does not let him finish. “You’re being prejudiced because the two of you are dating.”

The whole room watches this encounter with their breaths on hold. Taehyung lifts his gaze from his silent spot across from you.

At once, the two of you stand and shout, “No.” and “Oh my god, you’ve got it wrong!’ simultaneously.

Flustered, you begin to explain yourself. It is one to ignore your co-worker’s comments and the nuisance of the tabloids, but you at least wanted to clear any misunderstanding with Seokjin,

“He and I aren’t dating. We’re strictly in a boss and intern level relationship.” Seokjin follows this with, “Exactly. Besides, I’d be doing her and her family a favour if we were.”

This shuts you up.

“She’s old, first of all. She’d be lucky to have a younger, handsome man by her side. Secondly, it’s not like her family’s made of gold. If we were to date, I’d clearly be the one paying for everything. And imagine if we were to eventually become married! She could never afford so anything on her measly salary. Everything would definitely be coming out of my pocket.”

All the words tumble out even as his mind desperately pumps the brakes.

“I’m above that.”

There is silence in the room following the outburst. More eyes are on you than he, and they continue to watch you as you slowly rise from your seat.

“Above that?” you mutter, turning your back to the room after firmly closing your laptop to place in your bag. You hear the sound of the scraping of a chair from somewhere behind.

“She’s just an intern.”

You zip your bag, your fingers shaking with the effort to not big the whole damn thing up to throw it across the table. When you turn around, you see that Taehyung has risen from his seat while Seokjin has sat back down on his own.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice wobbling, “Might I remind you that she is right here, and she thinks you’re a total jackass, Mr. Kim.” His name hisses from between your teeth like a whistle. “You may have money. You may own a big fancy house with expensive furniture and a whole array of million dollar pieces in your closet. But you are not above me.”

He does not meet your harsh glare.

“You know what? This entire company sucks. I might just be an intern, but I still believe that I should be treated with the same level of respect and courtesy given to any as basic human rights. So screw you. And while I’m at this? Screw you too, Fei. You suck the most. Good fucking riddance to everyone.”

...

You have been wandering the streets, still very much annoyed and heated from your outburst. You have ignored Taehyung’s calls and even Jimin’s who strangely knew to call you.

So now you are jobless (or very likely jobless). And even though you want to feel and live off the anger, the emotion that overwhelms you the most is your guilt. Because you know everything he had said about you is right.

What if you had just tried harder?

He is above you.

Would your life still be this miserable?

God, why had you ever thought that maybe he cared.

You only wanted a simple life. Was that too much to ask for?

Fate played you like a doll with your one act role as Cinderella that night.

You are a nobody.

You plop down at a park bench, blocks away from the office. And you had been so close to finishing that contract too.

Add that to your growing list of failures.

You might as well begin job searching again because you highly doubt that job offer still stands.

Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call.

“I didn’t think you still cared, Tae,” you say without even looking when picking up.

“Jesus, Y/N,” there is obvious relief in his voice, “I thought something had happened you. You’ve been gone for two hours already. And why wouldn’t I care about you?”

“Does it matter? Just pack my things for me. I’ll pick them up from you some time this weekend,” you say. The reality of your actions have finally settled, and the reality is truly devastating.

“Come back. Fei was out of line there. I don’t think even Mr. Kim would let something like that slide.”

You want to tell him that Fei is not the true problem, but you are too tired to make that correction. Instead, you say, “I’m old. I’m also tragically single. And you know what? I haven’t told you this but the flat I live at isn’t even truly mine. My parents are the one paying for it because the best thing I could afford was being roommates with some college kid who I’m sure sold drugs on the side. I think I needed a reality check. It was a harsh one, but if I don’t start achieving something of my own soon. I don’t know.

I’ll be worthless.”

You close your eyes.

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me, Tae,” you say at last, doing your best to sound perkier, “If you’re talking with Jimin apologize on my behalf. I don’t think I will be the next Zuckerberg. He can continue having his information stolen from Facebook instead of me.”

Staring at the blank screen of you phone, you have hung up before you can listen to another attempt at consolation. A big fat droplet of water splashes and smears over your screen. It lights up.

I saw you on the Internet! Are you really dating the CEO of DailyHive?? BTW, this is Kiko!!

You huff.

Another droplet of water falls, hitting your face this time.

As if life couldn’t get any shittier, there is a sudden onset of rain. The sun quickly disappears behind the clouds.

You had wanted a movie. Life gave you a mockery of Cinderella, and now your classic drenched k-drama protagonist in the rain. Hey, Controller of Destiny, would it be too much right now to ask for the male lead to swoop in with an umbrella?

“You look like a drenched rat,” you hear a voice say. His voice sounds distant and muffled.

Looking up, you see a stranger holding an umbrella over your head. In his other hand, he holds out a phone currently connected to a call.

“Seokjin?” you ask into the open.

“You could have picked a further place to run to if you really were trying to run away,” he says over speakerphone. “Come into the car. Your health benefits don’t exactly kick in until later.”

Following Seokjin’s chauffeur to the black limousine parked only a minute’s walk at the park’s entrance to which you had been sitting at, you muse at the turn of events. Even a k-drama metaphor is apparently too good for you.

Seokjin hands you a handkerchief when you finally sit down beside him. “It probably wasn’t in any of our best interest that I said all of those things,” he mutters quietly.

You raise an eyebrow and say with a tilt of your lips, “Huh, you think? Was it also too much work to just come and offer me an umbrella yourself?” You work to dry your rain-soaked hair, but end up looking more and more like a wet dog.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “This is a very expensive suit, you know? It shouldn’t really get wet.”

Sighing, you turn to him. “Are you here for a particular reason or should I just get back out into the rain. I’m probably also drenching these leather seats.”

He contemplates something and then reaches into his breast pocket. He hands over a small box to you. It weighs in your palm like a paperweight.

“Is this your version of an apology?”

He snorts. “As if. I’m just saying – and purely stating a fact here – that it probably wouldn’t be that bad if somebody were to date you. You’re somewhat pleasing to the eye; you’re mostly hardworking and you can be useful to have around.”

He does not add that last night, he had dreamt he was that somebody.

“Also,” the next words take a while to form on his lips, “I’m regretful of the things I said earlier at the office.”

You cannot help but feel a smile tug upon hearing the strange words that are coming out of his mouth.

“God help us all if that’s what you think an apology is.”

“Open it.”

You sigh and unravel the string. In the center of the packing is a golf ball, with your initials monogrammed onto it.

“What’s this?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I had Yerin run the paperwork so we can get started with your onboarding. I saw that today is your birthday.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about your interns, Kim Seokjin,” you say. The smile refuses to leave your face as you turn the golf ball around in your hands.

“Fine. I saw Taehyung leave something on your desk this morning,” he finally admits.

“We’ll work on your apology. But okay. Consider your regret noted at this moment.”

He gestures to the chauffeur to start the car. From outside the vehicle, the rain dissipates. Once again, there is warmth in the air and a glow from the sun as it emerges from behind the clouds.

“Um, Seokjin. The office is the other way. You might need to hire a new chauffeur,” you say. Your shared office building grows smaller in the distance.

The scene begins to fade like the epilogue of a movie.

Seokjin leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I know. I just thought, screw the company. Let’s go play a real game of golf.”

You lean back, holding the golf ball close in your lap.

Maybe, your 29+1 might not be so bad after all.

152 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

A Love For The Ages

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 5.7K

Genre: The fluffiest fluff that I have written in a while and it makes me sad that this isn’t my reality :(

Summary: Being an executive researcher, Mark has a lot on his plate as it is. He has one of the highest positions at the company he’s employed at, which means he has a huge responsibility in bringing the company success. Unfortunately, the more time he spends trying to win over other businesses in to becoming clients and partners, the less time he has to spend with the love of his life. You.

A/N: Hey guys, slowly but surely I am getting back in to the rhythm of writing again but I still have a tendency of starting a story and not finishing it so please be patient with me. This story is based on “Groovy Kind of Love” by Phil Collins and I highly recommend you listen to it it’s so good @God why am I single? Happy reading!

When I'm feeling blue All I have to do Is take a look at you Then I'm not so blue

When you're close to me I can feel your heartbeat I can hear you breathing in my ear

Wouldn't you agree? Baby, you and me Got a groovy kind of love

Any time you want to You can turn me into Anything you want to Any time at all

When I kiss your lips Ooh, I start to shiver Can't control the quivering inside Wouldn't you agree? Baby, you and me Got a groovy kind of love

This is a very big deal, it can bring millions of dollars to our company. The success of our company is in your hands Mark. We’re all counting on you.

Those words repeatedly replayed over and over in his mind like a broken record, taunting him—making him feel as though such a heavy burden was placed on his shoulders. It had already been such a long day at work; he was coming up with multiple proposals, contacting potential clients, checking up with current clients and doing his research on a business deal with one of the biggest tech companies in the world.

Minutes felt like hours and the day went by agonizingly slow. One hour before he was supposed to leave—with the very tiny amount of energy he had left, he reached for his phone and re-read the messages you sent to him at the beginning of his shift. Honestly, your sweet and heartfelt words were what kept Mark going throughout his exhausting and frustrating days at the office. You were his motivation; just looking at a photo of you or hearing your gentle and extremely calming voice could break him out of any dejected state. The thought of arriving home to you is what prevented him from having a nervous breakdown.

Unfortunately, to Mark’s dismay, right as he put his phone down, both the director of his department and his manager walked in to his office to talk about the business deal your boyfriend was assigned to. Just a few months ago, Mark was given a promotion to marketing executive—a position that was usually given to employees that have working at the company for many years.

Your boyfriend was extremely intelligent; he graduated from the University of Southern California with his Master’s degree in business and communication at the prime age of twenty-three years old. He had only been working at the company for a little over seven months when the CEO of the company himself told Mark of how proud he was to have such a hardworking and extremely talented employee working at his company.

Mark was a very humble and soft-spoken individual; he was never one to gloat nor did he ever talk highly of himself. But his colleagues and his higher ups were extremely vocal about the fact that he was one of the best people who worked at the company. As grateful as he was to have been given such a prestigious position, it was also a lot more strenuous and draining work he had to accomplish. It also meant spending more time at the company—working ten to twenty hours overtime and less time with his favorite person in the entire world. You.

He had a hard time understanding how someone could be so selfless, patient and understanding. Not once have you ever made him feel bad about not being home as often as he should and you were so supportive. You did things for him without being asked and you sacrificed so much of your time, effort and energy to make sure he was well taken care of.

You’d wake up an hour earlier than you needed to just to make him breakfast, prepare a nice, hearty lunch, iron his clothes for the day and to make sure he had everything he needed in his suitcase. Some days, he regretted taking on the position. Sure, it was nice getting to call himself an executive, he had a spacious office with a beautiful view of the cityscape all to himself and the pay was pretty good for someone at his age. Yet, none of that mattered to him. He would rather be making less than half of his current pay check and be cooped up in a tight cubicle if it meant getting to be around you more often.

To Mark, you were so much more than just his girlfriend. You were an angel—an otherworldly being sent in his life to be a hiding place; a place of solace, happiness, comfort and love. The two of you have been together for almost three years now and he could confidently say that these last few years have been some of the best years in his entire twenty-seven years of existence.

You were his person; his soulmate. A best friend, personal chef, comedian, nurse, teacher, therapist and shoulder to cry on all in one. Even if he was taught from a young age that nobody was perfect, to Mark—you broke that cliché entirely. Not only were you the most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on; you had one of the most generous hearts and kindest personality someone could have. Everything about you was simply breathtaking and it made him feel like such a terrible boyfriend that he was unable to cherish you and give you the attention that you never failed to shower him with—the attention you deserved. When the two older men explained that the company’s reputation was on the line, he wanted to scream.

There were more than a thousand employees working at the company and he had five other colleagues assisting him in this project, so why were they expecting so much out of him? Mark understood that they believed in him and they were sure he was capable of such great things, but they were only making him feel a lot more pressured than he already was.

He went in to work that morning with a huge smile on his face after waking up an hour earlier to cuddle with you and to catch up on your life since he hasn’t had the time to really talk with you. It was relaxing; he allowed you to do the talking and leaned back so he could really take in your effortless beauty, award winning smile and contagious laughter. Your boyfriend was a simple man. Moments like those were when he was his happiest. Hell, he was his happiest whenever he was in your presence.

You meant the entire world to him and Mark was very good at thanking whatever higher power brought the two of you together on a daily basis for allowing him to be the lucky man who got to love you and be graciously loved by you. His mind was filled with the thought of you and getting to be back in your arms again but eagerness to leave for the day was now ruined.

Their unwavering hope and huge amount of trust in him led him to stay back a couple hours longer. He sent you a few apologetic text messages, claiming that he wanted nothing more than to fall apart in your arms and have you hold him as he cried from how worn out he was but that he really needed to make sure his proposal was one that would impress their aspired business partner and make his management proud. You replied back within seconds, telling him that it was okay and that he should think about taking a vacation to get some well deserved rest. You also told him that you were extremely proud of him, that you loved him with every fiber of your being and that you would wait up for him no matter what time he ended up coming home.

His heart fluttered and he could physically feel his cheeks warm up as his eyes grazed over your love confession. God, he couldn’t even fathom in to words how madly and irrevocably in love with you he was. Your words motivated him; any ounce of fatigue that he felt disappeared and he soon began typing away at his computer. He dug deeper in to his research and made sure to analyze and re-read his proposal to make sure everything was grammatically correct and that there weren’t any spelling errors.

When he felt content with his finished product, he decided to call it a day and mentally groaned when he saw what time it was as he punched out. 11:42 P.M. He was supposed to leave more than five hours ago and it didn’t even matter that he wasn’t as tired as he should be. The image of you sitting on the couch or lying in bed—waiting patiently for him to arrive made his stomach churn.

He came to the decision that once this entire business deal was over, whether the company decided to sign with his or not, he was taking a break and he was determined to make up for lost time by taking you somewhere you have always wanted to go. After packing up and making the journey to the parking lot, he got in to his car and briskly made his way back to your shared apartment—but he came up with an idea out of the blue and made a quick stop at the grocery store to pick you up some flowers and a quart of your favorite ice cream.

Since it was so late, there was hardly any customers and he was glad; not being able to wait any longer to finally be in your embrace again. Although he saw you earlier that morning, any time spent away from you felt like a long, gruesome day—sometimes it felt like weeks. His friends would tease him about how clingy he could be whenever it came to you and that he was whipped beyond belief to which he would immediately respond with a smile.

He didn’t care what anyone had to say about him and the way he was quite the lost puppy because of you. He loved it—it just proved that he loved you more than anyone in the world could possibly love another person. So whenever one of his friends would joke around about how big of a hopeless romantic he was, Mark would shrug them off and boast confidently about how much he adored you and how you were the reason for his existence.

Mark ran at least three red lights and he thanked God that no policeman was around because at the speed he had been driving, your boyfriend was sure to get a ticket or two. The second he pulled in to the garage, he made a beeline up to your unit and prayed that you were still awake. Though, if you just so happened to fall asleep even if you stated that you would wait up for him, he couldn’t blame you.

You were just as much of a hardworking person as he was and you were extremely dedicated to your job as an elementary school teacher. Your boyfriend envied you. It was obvious that you loved your job—you enjoyed working with children from a very young age and even if the pay wasn’t all that great, you didn’t seem to care. One of your characteristics that Mark appreciated the most about you was the fact that you cared about helping others in any way you possibly could, not caring about what you would receive in return.

Plus, unlike a lot of people working nine to five, you genuinely found delight in being able to help enhance the minds of little ones and to teach them everything they needed to know. He’s visited you at your school multiple times and he’s been able to sit in while you taught your students. It was more than just a job to you—Mark knew that you would be a teacher without getting payed if there was ever a situation like that.

He wasn’t being biased because you were his girlfriend but your bubbly personality, the way you would spend your hard earned money to buy your students supplies, gifts and anything you needed for the classroom and just the way you talked with so much excitement in your voice as you’d tell him some stories from work, he knew you were the best teacher your students could have.

When he walked in the door, his heart fluttered at the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts; your long, smooth legs clad of anything—dancing along to the playlist he made for you of songs that reminded him of you. You were currently standing at the kitchen counter and he could tell you must have been too busy looking at the recipe book while swaying along to Bruno Mars to realize that he was now home.

He bit his lip watching your hips move ever so gently and although his clothes could be a little baggy on you, your curvaceous figure he was obsessed with was on full display. In his opinion, you looked amazing in every single item of clothing you wore. A blouse and a pencil skirt, a little black dress, sweatpants and a hoodie—it didn’t matter, whatever you wore caused his mouth to water. But whenever you’d wear one of his shirts, Mark was sure that’s when you were the most lethal. He wanted to give you his entire closet just so he could see you in his clothing.

Your boyfriend couldn’t really put his finger on it—maybe it was because you were just so beautiful and you matched everything you put on or because seeing you in something that was his reminded him that you belonged to him—that you were his just as much as he was yours.

You had yet to acknowledge his presence and as much as he wanted to continue drinking in your effortless beauty, he was sure the longer he were to watch you, the closer he would get to the brink of insanity, and he just really wanted to kiss you. He attempted to tip toe towards you; he wanted to surprise you and when you jumped as he brought his hands down to your lower waist and placed his chin on your shoulder, he was confident that he succeeded.

“Hey baby. I’ve missed you so much. How was your day?”

You spun around and beamed up at him with your adorable cheesy grin; Mark could feel his heart rate increase. You really were the best thing to ever happen to him. What war did he fight in his past life to deserve you?

“I’ve missed you more my love. Today was great. The kids had a math test and most of them passed with flying colors. There’s also a book fair that started on Monday and they were all so excited to explore the many books on display which gave me a nice break from teaching. I would ask you the same, but by the dark circles under your eyes alone, I can already tell that you had quite the rough day.”

You brought your hands up to his cheeks and cupped either side of his face; grazing your thumbs right under his eyes. He gave you a sad smile before leaning down to place a sweet kiss upon your lips.

“Baby, you know it’s okay to ask for help right? You don’t need to suffer all alone. You already do so much for them and I can totally see why they are putting so much faith in to you, but you’re only human Mark. You’re going to burnout at this rate and I’m afraid that you’re going to end up in the hospital if you keep overworking and stressing too much. I know you want to make everybody happy, but sometimes it’s okay to be selfish if it means putting your happiness first. I made you your favorite; it’s in the fridge, you just have to heat it up. I also pre-ironed your clothes for tomorrow, I did a load of your laundry, I took Milo out for a walk and I’m currently making you some chocolate chip cookies because I know how they’re your weakness and there’s a bath with your name on it—oof—“

He gave you no time to say anything else before pulling you closer to his body if it were even physically possible. Mark’s friend Jackson called the two of you magnets; your boyfriend had the tendency to hold you very tight. Wherever you would go, everyone who knew the two of you could expect Mark to follow along.

This meant grocery shopping, doctor’s visits, family and friend outings, he would even go shopping with you and Mark was the type of boyfriend who followed you around, giving his opinion on what he thought would look good on you—both makeup and clothing wise although he made it clear that you were one of those girls who did not need makeup at all. You were already a sight for sore eyes bare-faced and he’d admit that makeup only enhanced your beauty, but he found you even prettier without anything on your face.

Hearing that you completed all these tasks for him; especially after coming home from work even if you didn’t consider teaching all that burdening—he was sure you were equally as tired—it made tears build up at his eyelids. Mark thanked you on a daily basis for all that you’ve done and continue to do for him. You were so thoughtful and your actions only proved to him that he was your main priority. If only he could say that you were his.

If there was anything Mark could change about his life, it would be the amount of time he’d spend in yours. You never showed nor did you tell him that his lack of presence bothered you, but he had a feeling you probably desired more time with him. The two of you were a couple and even if you’ve been together for quite some time, you both were still in the honeymoon stage. You were practically obsessed with one another, so it was natural that you’d want to be around him more often.

Mark only ever saw you on the weekends; in the morning before work and right before you’d go to sleep. He’d give you gifts and write you letters to show his appreciation but there was so much more he wish he could do to explain just how grateful he was for you. Your boyfriend didn’t even notice that he started to cry until he felt your delicate fingers swiping along his cheeks. Right as you were about to say something, he reconnected your lips together and kissed you fervently. His lips were now smashed against yours; the need to have your mouth against his own was driving him crazy.

Out of everything the two of you did in your relationship, kissing you had to be his favorite. Your boyfriend made it his duty to tell you how he thought you were a goddess and worshiped your body as though it was a holy temple every time he had the chance which was almost always. He adored your facial features and God took his time with you. Every curve, every freckle, beauty mark and birth mark—he could locate each and every single one.

Right after your passionate love making sessions, you’d fall asleep because the two of you normally would go multiple rounds for at least two to three hours. He’d stay up and gaze at you in awe of your gorgeousness—basking in all of your beauty.

Yeah, he was definitely whipped.

Out of all your body parts though, your lips had to be his favorite. Well, other than your breasts, your thighs and your ass. But your lips were so cute; they were heart shaped along with being the prettiest shade of bright red. Plus, they were his own personal drug and to say your lips were addicted was an understatement.

Once he began kissing you, there was no stopping him. It was understandable knowing that make out sessions would turn in to love making sessions not too long afterward. He couldn’t help himself. Your lips molded perfectly with his. It was as if God actually made the two of you for each other and it was a huge honor to call you his significant other.

The older boy lifted you up on to the counter as if it was the easiest thing to do, but it wasn’t something he wasn’t used to. He didn’t even pull away to take a breath or anything, he wanted to continue kissing you—he moaned when you sucked on his bottom lip and brought it in between his teeth. When you pulled away to take a quick breather and to recollect all your sanity, your boyfriend let out the most adorable whine and placed his forehead against yours.

“Wow—um—Hi.” You giggled softly at his choice of words but it was typical Mark to have this kind of reaction after you literally knocked the wind out of him.

“Hi.” He brought his thumb up to your bottom lip and gently glided it—giggling as you brought it in your mouth.

“I love you. There’s nothing else I can say but that and I need you to know that the love I have for you is genuinely indescribable. There aren’t even enough words in the dictionary that can form a sentence that can describe the impact you’ve had in my life. You—you are a marvel. You are everything I could have ever wanted in a life partner and more. So much more. I know you hate it when I say this, but you are perfect. I mean it y/n. Every single thing about you is just simply perfect and I just—thank you for allowing me to be the extremely lucky person who gets to receive your love and affection on a daily basis. You’re my entire universe, you mean everything to me. You are everything to me and I will spend my entire life giving you the world on a silver platter. Today was shit, I don’t even need to go in to detail about it but it fucking sucked. I was supposed to come home to you six hours ago. Six hours—you know how much sex we could have had—ow, what? I’m deprived baby, it’s been an entire week since you got my dick wet but I’ve been fucking hard every single day. Anyways, before you give me bruises and not in the ways I would prefer, all I could do was think about you. You would think my mind would be clouded with this stupid proposal but no. My beautiful baby was all I could think about—what you were doing, what we would be doing if I didn’t work so much, how your day was so far, if you are all your meals, if you were staying hydrated, if you were thinking about me the way I can’t seem to stop thinking about you—“ He brought back some of your hair and placed it behind your ear while playfully poking your nose in the process.

“No matter how shitty work or even just life in general can get; my whole world could shatter and I couldn’t give less of a shit. I could lose my job or get demoted back to my previous position and I wouldn’t care. They could take away my car and force us to move out of this place and I wouldn’t even bat an eye at our misfortune. I don’t need anyone or anything on this hell forsaken earth but you. You’re a need. I need you. I’m nothing without you. I think I would die of a broken heart if I were to lose you and I’m going to make sure that I never end up in a situation where you’re no longer in my life. I hope you know you are stuck with me forever. You’re the reason I wake up with the biggest grin on my face every morning. Whenever I’m feeling sad or I have no energy, I just take a look at you and I remember why I do all that I do. Why I suffer through so much unnecessary bullshit, why I don’t end up in a mental institution—I remember why my heart is always so full and feels as if it’s about to leap out of my chest. You are my reason. You and I, we have a love that people could only dream of experiencing. Fairytales can’t even compare to what we have. My bosses, they always tell me how proud they are of me and they’ll congratulate me about my hard work but I really do not give a shit about anyone else’s opinions other than yours. Oh—before I forget, I um—I bought you some flowers; they didn’t have your favorite but these ones reminded me of you and I also got strawberry cheesecake ice cream to which I’m sure is probably a milkshake now and the flowers are probably smashed but—“

Mark should have expected the kiss as a way to silence him and his insecurities or doubts, it was a reoccurrence whenever he talked negatively about himself or the way he did things. The way you and your boyfriend always reassured each other and complimented one another so frequently was one of the many reasons why the two of you were so perfect together. He was surprised to say the least; most of the time, he took the lead in initiating kisses or your love making sessions because he was the more dominant figure in your relationship but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun every now and then.

Slowly, his hands made their way in to his shirt that you were wearing; gliding his fingers along your hip bones and running his hands down your sides. Both your lips and his were swollen to the tenth degree. The kiss was soon growing sloppy and intense; Mark felt as though his body was on fire and he was being consumed by the flames caused by you and just your presence alone. It didn’t matter that the two of you kissed every single day, he’d get butterflies in his tummy on the daily.

He could be on the verge of falling asleep but the second your lips are on his, Mark would get a burst of energy that he didn’t think he was physically capable of and it would last for the entirety of your late night romp. His dress pants were extremely tight at this point and the frustration he felt from work was now turned in to sexual frustration. Once he was done pouring his heart out to you, he was going to make his way inside of you.

“Mark, you didn’t have to get me anything at all, but I’m extremely grateful. You’re so thoughtful; you sounded so tired and you could have came straight home but you didn’t. They’re beautiful—thank you. I—I’m at a loss for words. I’m still taking that all in. God, we’re so cheesy but I love it and I love you. So fucking much. Everything you just said, the way you feel about me is the exact way I feel about you. Whenever I hear someone say the word “perfect”, my mind automatically wanders off to you. One of my students actually asked about you today, wanting to know when Mr.Mark was going to visit again. I swear, those kids adore you more than they do me and they’ve only met you three times. I don’t blame them though, you’re exceptionally wonderful. I’m not going to lie, I do wish that we could see each other a lot more often. You’re one of the only sources of happiness I have in my life. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining and I’m fine with any kind of communication with you—just hearing your voice keeps me going throughout my day. But I would rather see you in person than through a phone screen during our lunch breaks. I went out with my friends the other night and they were all talking about their relationships and how it’s healthy in a relationship to go on dates frequently to keep the spark alive. I didn’t think about it until they brought it up but we haven’t been on a date in almost two months. We’re both so busy and so exhausted, so I brushed it off. I miss it though, I miss doing cute and domestic things with you. I miss how life used to be like before we entered the real world and had to start adulting. I miss seeing you smile—genuinely. I miss hearing your childlike laugh, it takes a lot more to get a reaction out of you these days but I can understand why. I just—I miss you. You’re here in my arms, yet you feel so far away. I’m sorry, I’m being selfish and I shouldn’t have said anything—“

“Y/n, you’re not being selfish at all baby. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a terrible boyfriend—don’t give me that look, you know it’s the truth. You never fail to make me and our relationship our main priority yet I can’t do the same for you and I hate sitting in my office after hours, thinking about you eating dinner by yourself or having to do errands by yourself. I hate the thought of you being alone. God—you need to know that there is nothing more I want in life than to spend every single minute by your side. I really don’t mean to be so down in the dumps all the time, I’m trying my best to not show how much work is tearing me apart because I don’t want you worrying about me. You already have so much more to worry about. I knew I was neglecting you, but hearing you describe how the distance makes you feel—I’m so fucking sorry baby and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing me apologize but I am sincerely so sorry. I can’t promise you that things will go back to the way they used to be before my promotion but I will promise you that I’ll try harder. I’ll be more involved, I will make sure you never question my feelings for you ever again. I will make sure that you feel loved—cared for—I will take care of you the way you so diligently do for me—to the point where you will get tired of me. You know, if you want me to ask if I can return back to my previous position, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll go back to being a researcher—“ He frowned as you shook your head in disagreement at his proposition.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you lose the job you’ve worked so hard to receive. You’ve worked your ass off for so many years to become the extremely talented and hardworking supervisor of your division you are now. Plus, they were already working you to the bone when you were in research and you were getting paid less than even a fourth of what you are now. I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you feeling bad that we hardly ever see each other or that your a terrible boyfriend. You’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for my love. I love every single thing about you; the way you would sacrifice your food for me if I didn’t end up liking mine, the way your eyes crinkle whenever you laugh, the way you put your heart and soul in to each and every single one of your endeavors, the way I feel so safe and sound in your arms. I will admit, yes, I used to reminisce on what our life used to be like before we both grew so busy, but it’s not like we’re far apart. I know couples who barely even speak to one another and they see each other throughout the entire day. I think the distance makes our hearts grow fonder in a sense. I miss you for hours on end, but the yearning is all worth it once we go to bed together. What’s a couple of years getting to see you only a couple of hours a day when we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together—well, I mean, if that’s what you want but—“

“Don’t finish that sentence. No buts. Unless it’s yours. I swear I went over this with you many times, you’re stuck with me for eternity. I’m going to marry you one day. God, you’re so fucking wonderful. I don’t ever want to stop reminding you of how amazing you are. Those words aren’t even enough to describe how enraptured I am by you. You would think my confession of how madly in love with you I am and how I would rather die than to live in a world without you would be enough to describe just how deep my love for you goes.”

He brought your left hand up to his mouth and kissed the tip of each and every single—letting his lips linger on your ring finger. He giggled as blush soon appeared on to your cheeks in shyness.

“Soon. I promise you. I’ll give you the wedding and the ring of your dreams. Every single guest we invite will be able to witness the love story of a lifetime. Our love is one they’d write novels about. You and I were made for one another. Your soul and mine are one. Every beat of my heart, every breath that I take, it’s all because of you. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle—even more so for you to take my last name. Y/n Tuan, sounds perfect to me. I’ve been secretly attaching my last name to your name since the beginning of our relationship. Even only after a month, I knew in my heart that you were the girl I wanted to settle down and start a family with. Forget seeing you in my future, you are my future. After everything you just said to me and all that you prepared for me earlier, I think I might just skip a step and give you a baby. I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby inside of you. But until then, why don’t I show you just how much I love you while I’m inside of you?”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 mark

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witcherslittledove · 3 years

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I Miss You

Joey Batey/Henry Cavill RPF - Also on AO3

Rated: T

Summary: Henry is busy filming in America and Joey really misses his boyfriend.

CW: Alcohol, hangovers

_________

The sunlight was streaming through the window, shining directly onto Joey’s pillow. The brightness pulled him, quite unwillingly from his sleep, and he groaned, rubbing his eyes and scrambling to find his phone in his bedsheets. His head was fucking killing him and his mouth tasted like sandpaper. The way the room spun a little as he looked around suggested he was probably still drunk. Madeleine was snoring next to him, bundled up in a heavy hand knitted jumper, her make-up running down her face in black smudges. He couldn’t remember falling asleep but it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d cuddled up together after too many bottles of wine. It had gotten worse since Henry had flown out to America to finish up some work for Justice League. They’d spent almost two week together at Henry’s house after they were done with the publicity for the Witcher, completely inseparable, enjoying the opportunity to relax in each other’s company. The relationship was still new, and Joey knew they were still in the honeymoon period.

But he really fucking missed his boyfriend.

His boyfriend.

Fuck, that still made him giddy, although perhaps that was still the wine.

He hurriedly unlocked his phone, swiping through the notifications on his twitter without looking at them. Joey paused briefly to check a message from the recording studio, but decided he’d respond later. It was probably still early enough that Henry might still be awake, if he was lucky.

There weren’t any new messages from his boyfriend and he pouted at his phone, running a hand through his hair before falling back onto the pillow. Madeleine grumbled but didn’t stir, snuggling back into the sheets and mumbling as she fell back asleep. With a sigh, Joey stared at his phone, typing out a message and then deleting it.

I miss you.

I want you here with me.

I love you.

It all felt stupid. Needy and pathetic. They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet but Joey couldn’t deny how he felt. Falling in love too quickly was an unfortunate trait that he shared with Jaskier, but he’d always lacked the confidence to follow through. Honestly, if he didn’t need to perform both as a musician and as an actor, then he’d probably just hide away from the world, but performing called to him. He was addicted, couldn’t give it up, and oh he’d tried. He’d even tried to study something else at University, but he just couldn’t resist joining the Amateur Dramatics Society.

Well, it had all worked out in the end.

Sort of.

The proposals online could be a bit much, but Henry was helping him handle the sort of being famous thing, and he was getting better. He just needed to be okay when Henry wasn’t there to hold his hand as well. Jesus Christ, he was fucking pathetic.

His phone pinged in Joey’s hands, the vibrations startling him out of his thoughts. “Oh cock!” he cursed as he nearly dropped the damn thing, but he soon managed to unlock it and there it was; a message from Henry.

‘Good morning gorgeous, I miss you x’

Joey’s head was throbbing and his stomach was feeling a little squiffy but fuck, he wanted to cry. Henry was just the most amazing man he’d ever met. He was kind, generous, a huge nerd and ridiculously hot. Most importantly, Henry had possibly the fluffiest dog that Joey had ever seen, and Joey was just soft for fluffy dogs. Animals were easier than people.

Madeleine and Henry seemed to be the exception to this. When Joey had clicked so quickly with Madeleine he’d thought it was a miracle, one that would never be repeated, but then he had met Henry. They’d had such a great time on set, laughing in between takes and struggling to stay in character. The normal anxiety had just never occurred, and then on the last day Henry had stammered and stumbled over his words, asking Joey out on a date.

He’d been convinced it was some cruel joke but it turned out that Henry was really just a big softy, and Joey was completely head over heels. Madeleine thought it was adorable and teased him endlessly, which would have been fine if he wasn’t so bloody needy.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, thinking about how he could possibly express what he wanted to say over text. “Fuck,” he grumbled and hit the call button.

Joey hopped out of the bed, swiping his dressing gown from the floor and shuffled out into the lounge before he woke Madeleine.

“Joey,” Henry said in a low voice, a soft gruff growl in Joey’s ear. Immediately, he felt the tension leave his shoulders and he sunk into the warm embrace of his boyfriend’s voice.

“I love you,” he breathed, not thinking about it until there was a deafening silence on the other end of the line. “Oh shit, fucking, cock balls! I am so sorry. I didn’t.. I shouldn’t, cock!”

When Henry spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. “You love me?”

“Ah, umm… yes? Rather hopelessly,” he admitted. “Sorry?”

“No,” Henry choked out, half laughing which really wasn’t helping Joey’s anxiety. “no. You don’t have to apologise. I love you too, Joey. I’ve been beating myself up over it.”

“What?” Joey whined, suddenly wishing he could just go back to sleep off his hangover. He did not have enough brain power for this conversation.

“I thought,” Henry paused and Joey heard a long heavy sigh. “I thought it was too soon.”

Relief washed over him and, despite feeling a little like death warmed up, he joined in the laughter. Soon both of them were giggling like bloody teenagers. Henry loved him. Henry fucking Cavill, heart throb of the world, Superman, Geralt of bloody Rivia, loved him. Joey Batey, a nobody.

It seemed ridiculous, completely ludicrous, but this was his life now. He had a dream role in a successful television show, he had fans, his second album was due out soon and his first album had had a second wind with the release of the witcher. On top of that, he still had his very best friend, and a brand new boyfriend. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was bound to break soon, but he was getting better at ignoring that little voice.

“I love you,” he repeated, hugging one of the couch cushions. It wasn’t Henry but it was as close as he could get right now. Fuck, he really wanted to just curl up into his boyfriend’s side, maybe kiss him silly.

He’d never hated Superman more.

“I know Geralt really hates portals, but I really wish we had one,” Henry sighed.

Joey scoffed, rubbing his eyes. Now that he was in the darkness of the lounge, he was starting to feel tired again, and he really needed to sleep off the rest of his hangover. “You’re such a nerd,” he teased.

“Says the man who writes his own Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.”

Joey gasped “Hey now, you love my D&D campaigns.”

“I love you more.”

Joey grinned, snuggling further into his pillow, wondering whether he was in fact dreaming the whole thing. “I love you too, darling.”

Henry chuckled. “Go back to sleep Joey, love. I’ll talk to you when I wake up?”

“You have work,” he whined.

“I can make time for you,” Henry reassured him. “Sleep now, love.”

Joey yawned in spite of himself, he wanted to stay awake, but Henry was right, he was fucking exhausted. He hadn’t even checked the time but he never slept late after a night drinking. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But I love you.”

His boyfriend laughed. “We’ll be together again soon, only another couple of weeks.”

“I just want a hug,” Joey slurred. “Can’t sleep properly on my own anymore.”

“I’ll never let you go.”

Joey hummed, letting Henry’s voice wash over him, lulling him back to sleep right there in the arm chair. “Sounds good.”

He was asleep before he could hang up, just holding his phone close to his chest.

#the witcher rpf #joey batey/henry cavill #joey/henry #rpf

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

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A Truth In Your Eyes (saying you’ll never leave me)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Not Rated (it’s just fucking fluff, y’all!) Notes: There were a few people that were pretty stoked about my first attempt in this universe, so I decided to put out another part. If you haven’t read You Say It Best, you should probably give that one a shot first! Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Tony does describe a bit of anxiety, though - tread carefully if that’s something that triggers you! Summary:

After Peter is careless with his words, Tony is left feeling a little anxious about the stability of things between them. The philharmonic concert he planned to attend doesn't really help - but Peter is there to pick up some of the pieces.

Or - the one where Peter does a little damage control.

Read it on AO3 here

“I sometimes wish you could just hear like everyone else. It’d make things so much easier.”

Despite not being able to actually hear the words, each one rattled inside his head like active bombs just seconds away from going off.

They were dangerous – the type of thing that haunted Tony his entire life; from the halls of school where he struggled daily, to the comfort of his own home growing up. Everyone wished to change him, whether for their own convenience or the ease of being around him – people were always attempting.

Yet, when he met Peter Parker, Tony finally felt like he met someone who could understand him, regardless of the barrier that existed between them. For the first time in his life, Tony wanted to believe that hearing and non-hearing didn’t matter – there was a place where they both could exist in the same realm.

Then, those dreaded words slipped out of Peter’s lips so carelessly – the man not even cognizant of what kind of impact they were going to have.

They were so, so, so careless.

And, as happy as Tony was that Peter came to his senses, his heart still hurt. There wasn’t any way around that feeling – not when his idealistic thought about their relationship was so easily obliterated.

To be completely fair, Peter wasn’t even aware of Tony’s anxiety. There’d been many conversations about Tony and his experience with learning to speak and finding a way to bridge whatever gap existed between himself and another person – Peter seemed interested in all the parts and pieces, even.

After so much discussion and dissection of his experiences, Tony figured the apprehension could remain unspoken, yet understood. He so desperately wanted Peter to understand him – so, some of the hurt stemmed from that glaringly obvious barrier that still existed, no matter how much he wished it otherwise.

Over the last few weeks since Peter came back, Tony spent a lot of time thinking about their time together – the interactions that he treasured so much.

He fondly remembered their first conversation about his deafness – the adorable worry on Peter’s face when he stuttered out the question.

“So, have you always been deaf?”

Tony grinned at him then, his cheeks already warm from the intensity of the smile beaming from his face. The forwardness of Peter’s form of conversation always made him feel a little giddy – while most people hopped around him and tried to navigate murky waters with finesse, Peter barreled on, his idea of asking for forgiveness over permission totally charming.

“Yeah, I have,” Tony replied, his fingers moving through the signs before his brain remembered to add in the spoken word, too. At that time, they hadn’t been together all that long, so the fluent ASL still brought a ‘deer in the headlights’ look to Peter’s adorably rosy cheeks. It took a lot more thinking than Tony usually liked, but the man across from him seemed worth it.

“Both of my parents are hearing – they weren’t even aware I couldn’t hear until I was 3. I hadn’t started talking and did all my communication through gestures. I learned to sign first, then when my dad couldn’t pick it up, I started speech therapy.” He waited a beat, his heart pounding a little bit in anticipation for the words yet to come.

“Speaking makes people more comfortable. Recognizing that we at least have that in common allows me to have a much more genuine conversation than if I just read lips and typed on my phone.”

Peter looked at him with such awe in the minutes to follow his little tangent – his brown eyes were wide and complexly interested; there were probably a million thoughts running through his mind at the time. They were quiet while Peter looked at him and absorbed all of the things Tony said and managed to get out without really saying, too.

Reaching a hand across the table, Peter slipped their fingers together – the touch both soothing and reassuring. After the short time they’d been together at that point, Tony came to rely on the physical communication between them just as much as any other. He let himself relax a little, the usual anxiety leaving him with each dragged out breath.

“I want to make conversing with you as easy as possible, baby. Will you teach me ASL? Enough for us to talk to each other, at least? I’m a pretty quick learner.” Peter looked at him so earnestly – the words and gesture both so fucking genuine.

Tony delightfully recalled the way warmth spread from the center of his chest to every inch of his being, his fingers and toes on fire from those beautiful words – even now, after so much time and the little bit of hurt. Peter was careless, that much was certain; but he wasn’t heartless – his attempt to bridge the gap between them proved to be genuine time and time again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony forced himself away from his reminiscent thoughts – he’d been sitting in his seat in the audience waiting for the concert to start for a while now; long enough for his thoughts to run wild and so far away from him. If he didn’t’ force himself back to the present, he could easily miss out on Peter’s entire performance.

While stuck in his thoughts, Tony missed the room filling up – most of the seats that were once empty around him were entirely full, even the two down from his own. Tony took a second to reprimand himself for the negligence – one of his keys to success stemmed from the fact that he paid attention to everything… at all times.

Except lately – over the past few weeks, Tony found himself struggling a little harder than usual to stay present; especially with people outside of his little bubble. Usually, public gatherings weren’t too much of a hardship, but tonight – tonight, Tony was struggling.

Luckily, the lights were lowering as Tony came back to himself – the many people in the audience settling down with the reduced lighting. Most concert goers understood crowd etiquette – the when, where, and how things were conducted played a part in the whole experience.

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Tony let his eyes roam across the stage until he found Peter amongst the crowd of shiny instruments and stuffy individuals wrapped up in starchy, unmoving tuxedos. Though he too was stuck in such an outfit, Peter stood out – his wavy hair glistened under the lighting – his confidence radiating off of him in waves that only Tony could see.

The sight brought a smile to his face; even though he wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing his boyfriend played, Tony could clearly see how talented he was – Peter’s skill existed in every part of him, not just the sound he happened to produce.

After a short introduction from the conductor, the performance was on its way. They opened with a steady piece, the vibrations starting out minimal, then gaining pace until the ultimate crescendo peaked to end it all. The last few notes hung in the room, each person within Tony’s view completely captivated already.

For most of the performance, Tony tried his best to pick out Peter’s parts – with the combined visual cues and the learned feeling, he felt successful about half of the time. By the last few songs, Tony’s brain felt fatigued – Peter’s winks and affectionate looks between pieces the only thing really keeping him in it at all.

The last piece ended with a loud (even to Tony) sea of applause that filled up the entire room. To blend in with the crowd, Tony stood up with the rest of his row, his hands coming together to mimic the claps around him. He copied the behavior until it was clear for him to vacate the row.

His feet couldn’t carry him backstage fast enough.

Tony flashed the security guard his badge (the man fondly known as Little Ed shot him a soft smile as he did). Throughout his time with Peter, Tony learned the layout of their performance space and easily found him, his boyfriend delightfully flushed from the still flowing adrenaline of a job well done.

Brown eyes caught him before Tony could make it over to Peter physically – Peter’s stare stopping him in his tracks for a moment. The look never failed to knock him back, Tony completely smitten with the dark pupiled gaze, Peter’s nonverbal communication increasing tenfold since the first time they locked eyes like this. Without saying anything, Tony knew Peter was grateful for his presence, that seeing him right after such a big success made him just as happy as the performance itself.

Grinning, Tony narrowed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter’s waist the second they were within touching distance. He nuzzled his nose into Peter’s neck, the silent ‘hello’ exactly what he needed after so much artificial noise buzzing around in his head. After placing a small kiss to salty skin, Tony pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

“You were amazing,” Tony signed, his voice inaccessible to him after so much earlier strain. He trusted Peter’s ASL skill, anyway – they’d been working hard over the last few weeks to make the man completely conversational.

Peter didn’t disappoint, his handsome face breaking into a happy grin, the edges of his mouth actually reaching his eyes. He let a hand brush against Tony’s suit jacket clad shoulder, the touch brief, yet reassuring.

“Thank you,” Peter replied, his fingers touching his chin in the recognizable sign. “It’s so nice to have you in the crowd. It’s like everyone else fades away and it’s just you and me. I really like that.”

Tony smiled shyly, his eyes watching Peter’s lips form those last words with interest. He quickly recalled the last time he saw them, their skin much more flush and sticky then – both totally sated in the afterglow. The blush on his cheeks deepened, his smile turning into a smirk.

“I really like you.” Tony palmed Peter’s cheek as he spoke, his voice suddenly finding its way out of his throat.

Peter wrapped him up in a sudden hug, his arms squashing Tony to his chest. Since their little reunion a few weeks ago, Peter seemed hell bent on making up for it – whether it was through more diligent signing or an abundance of physical contact, Peter doubled his efforts – the try in his behavior apparent.

Letting a sigh slip through his lips, Tony felt himself relax into the contact. He appreciated the effort – there really wasn’t anything like the feeling of being in Peter’s arms. Yet, he wondered if it was just an attempt to win Tony back over, or if it was truly how things were going to go from now on.

He realized after Peter’s walk out, just how tangible being left behind actually was. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think about it before – every time they struggled to be on the same page, Tony found himself thinking how much easier it would be for Peter to be with someone else – someone that didn’t struggle to reciprocate… someone that, well – could hear.

When things were good between them, it was easy to brush off.

Ever since their falling out, though, Tony found it harder to just push to the side. If a little bit of annoyance could drag such careless words from Peter’s mouth, what would the long haul look like for them? Was it even worth it for Peter? Would there ever truly be a future for Tony’s deafness and Peter’s hearing to cohabitate successfully? So much fear sat in the pit of his stomach, so many unknowns and questions unanswered – Tony was already so damn overcome by love and near acceptance, losing Peter wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

Fear and apprehension weren’t things Tony wanted to carry around with him, especially where Peter was concerned. Despite that want, Tony couldn’t stop himself from fretting or feeling anxious. Times like that very moment, when Peter wrapped him up in strong arms, they kept things at bay – but, only just barely.

Pulling away from Peter’s hug, Tony gave his boyfriend a little space – his sheet music and taken apart saxophone still sat on the table next to them, his presence obviously slowing down the cleaning up process. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The quicker we get to that after party, the quicker we’ll be able to leave.”

Peter shot him a smirk, then went about deconstructing his mouthpiece, the reed lovingly placed in its protector, then slotted into its spot in the case. Everything Peter did was precise, the movement of his hands hypnotic – Tony finding himself completely glued to them more often times than not.

Blinking the unnecessary distraction away, he turned his back to his boyfriend, cutting off any further means of communication for the time being.

Tony put Peter’s sheet music away, his eidetic memory allowing him to remember the order it usually existed in. With that done, Tony slipped it into Peter’s bag, grabbed the saxophone case from Peter’s hand, and offered up his arm for Peter to take. The weight in the crook of his elbow was comforting, the affection something Tony knew he’d need to get through the next step of their forced social adventure.

They took the extra time needed to get Peter’s instrument into the car, the few stolen minutes together some of the last they would get until obligations were fulfilled and the right people were spoken to. As much as he wanted to be by Peter’s side throughout the entire ordeal, Tony couldn’t keep up with everything – too many people to tune into and too much noise to navigate made it incredibly difficult to be anything but a bother.

Which is how Tony found himself in the corner, desperately attempting to escape conversation with the masses. He followed Peter around for a while, catching a few names here and there, exchanging the necessary hellos – then bowed out as quickly as he could. If he weren’t already in a state of anxiety, he probably would have tried to hold on a little tighter to the forced interactions. But, he couldn’t do it – not when his head was buzzing and every second he attempted to lip read felt like trudging through sludge – every exchange between himself and another person the heaviest burden.

He grabbed a flute of champagne and let himself relax against the wall, hazel eyes flitting between all of the different people occupying the space. The musicians were easy to pick out, they were still sporting the matching penguin suits. Stiff members of the upper echelon of New York society also stuck out like a sore thumb – there were only a select few that would jazz themselves up to the nines to attend a concerto. The random few (himself included) flitted in and out of recognition. Some were there with other musicians, and some seemed happy just to be in attendance, regardless of their standing.

As the minutes passed, Tony felt his head starting to buzz more intensely than before. After such a long day, he couldn’t decide if it was because the long use of his hearing aids, or the overwhelming nature of being in a crowd for an extended duration of time. Unlike Peter, Tony didn’t do much of his life surrounded by lots of people. The small five person dinners they sometimes hosted were a bit much – a huge room of people, all of which were talking non-stop, bordered on impossible.

Depositing his glass on the nearest flat surface, Tony reached up to fiddle with his hearing aids. He knew, the second he switched them off, the rest of the world would be blissfully silent – and yet, at the same time, his ability to communicate with it would be severely diminished. Despite the fact that he’d been mainstream his entire life, reading lips and keeping up with multiple people talking at the same time was not easy; and never would be.

Knowing what he knew, nimble fingers still moved to shut off the hearing devices, their assistance no longer anything but taxing and somewhat debilitating.

Peter must’ve seen him struggling – in the next second, Tony had a hand on his elbow, the comforting squeeze of familiar fingers grounding him, despite the small scare the touch provided. There was concern written all over his face, the small little crease between his brows both cute and reassuring. His hand moved to find Tony’s cheek, soft skin against soft skin.

“Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn those off in public before,” Peter signed, his fingers pointing at the hearing aids in his ears. “This crowd must be a lot.”

Tony allowed himself to lean into Peter’s touch, the overwhelming feeling he tried to bottle up throughout the night finally coming to the surface under the affectionate care. Ducking his head, Tony rested his forehead against Peter – breaths intermingling. He sucked in a big lungful of oxygen, the smell of Peter’s cologne a familiar entity that helped to stop him from jumping over the preverbal cliff he felt perched over throughout the evening.

“I’m struggling, Pete – I’m not going to lie. This whole night has been a lot. All the sound, all the people. I just can’t keep up.” He signed each of the words, the idea of speaking without the help of his hearing aids one he didn’t even want to process. Tony was thankful Peter was paying close attention to him – the crowd not giving him any trouble at all.

The hand on his cheek shifted again, Peter’s long fingers sinking into the grown out hair at the back of his neck. Tony felt his eyes close, the world around them melted away with every pass of blunt fingernails against the surface of his scalp. With his eyes closed, it truly felt like it was only him and Peter – the bubble of silence so fucking nice after all the stress.

Peter continued to pet him until Tony opened his eyes again. The soft smile he found on Peter’s face made his heart race, his own grin settling over his lips for what felt like the first time all day. A swift tug to his hair signaled Peter’s retreat, his boyfriend using his hands to sign at him, instead.

“I think I’ve been here long enough. What do you think about heading home and ordering some take out? I could go for some pho.” Peter exaggerated the last sign, his lips making a round ‘O’ that he dragged out.

And despite being so entirely wrung out, Tony couldn’t stop the laugh that wormed its way out – Peter knew how to make him feel better, without really even trying. His ability to know what Tony needed just by simply looking at him reminded Tony of the reason he felt the need to trust Peter in the first place. He didn’t always class it up the best, but he delivered seamlessly, regardless.

Nodding, Tony stepped into Peter’s space, wrapping his arms around slim shoulders to bring him in close. He held him tightly for a moment, just long enough to absorb Peter’s heat, then let him go. “That sounds good – thank you.”

It took them a few minutes to actually make their excuses and get out of the concert hall, but they were soon on their way – Tony tucked into Peter’s side as they made quick work of the space between the building and the parking lot. Still feeling a bit off balance, Tony clung to Peter with every step; vulnerability oozed from him and for the moment, he didn’t really give a shit.

They made it back to Peter’s place twenty minutes later – both of them slipping out of their suits and into soft matching flannel pajama pants they cheesily wore during the holiday’s a couple months before. It felt good to be wrapped up in the small comforts, the companionship between himself and Peter tangible in all sorts of ways.

There wasn’t any talking while they got settled. Peter ordered their food without having to ask Tony what he wanted. While Peter took care of their eats, Tony set up the latest episode of Peaky Blinders, the closed captions on and ready to go.

The simplicity of one of their typical routines let all the surrounding anxiety melt away from Tony – the only thing left the ease of the environment he inhabited with his favorite person.

Peter made his presence in the living room known with a swift touch to Tony’s shoulder, his fingers settling on the back of his neck. Turning, Tony shot him a soft smile, his hand gracing Peter’s hip before shifting to sign.

“You really were great tonight, Pete. I love watching you play.” He finished the last sign with a soft touch to Peter’s cheek. “I sometimes wish I could hear like everyone else, too.”

Moving quickly, Peter gripped Tony’s cheeks, the move drawing Tony’s attention immediately.

“I should have never said that. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Your eyes never left me – each song, it was like I was playing to you and you alone. It’s the most intimate playing experience I’ve ever had, Tony. You don’t need to hear me – you get me. That’s more than enough.”

Not really knowing how much he needed to be told that, Tony felt chest getting a little tighter. It didn’t occur to him that his anxiety that evening circled around the feeling of not knowing how secure things with Peter really were. He forgave him his words weeks ago – they were careless and they both understood that. Maybe he didn’t let go of the feeling those words created within him as easily, though; the whispers of them still haunting him.

Sighing, Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together. “I know. I really do. I just – I’m feeling anxious. I was so sure that you just sort of understood me. And you do. I know that, too. It just – broke me a little. You saying what you did. Are you going to be able to handle this,” Tony signed, pausing to gesture between them, “years down the road? I’m always going to be deaf. I’m always going to have nights like tonight. I love you, Pete. I don’t want to lose you.”

The seconds between the words sitting in the space between them and Peter’s response felt like years – Tony’s heart thudded against his chest, each beat like lead running through his veins. It wasn’t an ultimatum, per say – he wasn’t laying down a this or that, but the answer was important all the same. He already went down the rabbit hole of falling in love and depending on the man in front of him. In all of his life, Tony didn’t want anything else in this world more than a future with Peter.

There was so much potential – their relationship consisted of so many components; friendship, love, intimacy – all of the important variables for long lasting companionship and happiness.

At the same time, there were room for complications, too. Especially if there wasn’t a certain kind of commitment that came with living with a person with a disability. Accommodations would always need to be made, whether it be in their method of communication or the environment of whatever home they lived in.

They could do it – he knew they could. And even better yet, he wanted to; more than anything, he wanted to make a real go at things with Peter, even more so than they already were.

Peter returned the kiss after many seconds of silent contemplation. He let the lip to lip contact linger, Tony soaking up the touch, letting the flare of want and contentment surge through him. Brown eyes stayed on Tony as Peter created space, his hands moving to sign.

“It’s a lot – the future. What’s going to happen, where I might be. The only thing I know for sure is that I want you there with me. I was really thoughtless, wasn’t I? Saying what I said.” Peter stopped then, his right hand grabbing Tony’s while the other rubbed circles across his own chest – the sign for sorry making Tony smile lightly. He didn’t need to nod his head for Peter to know the answer to his question – the simple fact that they were having this conversation at all spoke volumes.

After a quick squeeze, Peter dropped Tony’s hand, his fingers moving to sign again. “I’m not going to say that the challenges were going to face aren’t scary – because they are. I’ll probably get it wrong most of the time, but I’m willing to try. I want to, even. This, what we have, it’s it for me.”

Not really sure where they came from, Tony was surprised to feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He couldn’t remember welling up or feeling the incessant need to let stuff out that usually prefaced the times he cried. Yet, there they were, flowing freely down to his chin – the path of which Peter quickly followed with his thumb.

It felt like a catharsis – the sort of cleansing of anger and anxiety that Tony wasn’t aware he needed until halfway in it. Instead of freaking like he did so many times before when emotions became too big, Tony let them go, the soft touch of Peter’s hand on his skin helping to relax him even further. For once, it felt good to let go – to rid his system of the terrible shit he kept inside because there wasn’t anywhere else for it to be.

Except – not anymore. As evidenced by this very moment, Peter could take on some of his burden, he could hold Tony up when everything might’ve gone to shit before.

“I want that, too,” Tony finally managed to reply. He felt completely overcome and suddenly drained of all energy. All of the emotions from what felt like his entire life were exorcised – the wash of tears the physical manifestation of it. Now, all Tony wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s arms and simply exist – no barriers or hard feelings between them.

Apart from detangling to bring the food into the apartment, Tony spent the rest of the night in that exact way – wrapped up in Peter’s embrace without a care in the world.

#starker #a truth in your eyes (saying you'll never leave me)#bobbie writes #peter parker/tony stark #fluffy fluff that fluffs #fluff

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aurorawest · 3 years

Note

can you also do a director's commentary on "Fool for You"? 🐠 this is one of my favs 🥰

Yeah! Thank you for asking about this one! Since it’s over 6k words I’ll just grab the interesting parts, I hope that’s okay! Link on AO3.

First of all, I will just say, I was shocked by the response to this fic. I wrote it for Froststrange Week earlier this year, and it was by far the fluffiest fic I wrote for that event. It’s one of the fluffiest things I’ve written ever. I was actually nervous to post it...and I’ve written some very dark stuff that didn’t even give me pause before hitting the post button on AO3, haha. But this one? I distinctly remember my palms getting sweaty (gross) and having to walk away from my computer after I posted it, because I was so freaked out. But people liked it! It was probably my most popular Froststrange Week fic.

Onto the fic...

Loki craned his head, staring upwards as the massive shark moved smoothly and silently through the water overhead. He’d never seen anything like it, despite his one thousand and sixty years in the universe. It moved off, disappearing over rocks dappled with slow, turquoise sunlight.

“It’s a whale shark,” Stephen informed him, staring down at an informational plaque posted along the walkway. Loki had read all of them so far, but he’d stopped dead in his tracks in the glass tunnel when he’d seen the shark, too awed by it to move. Ahead of them and behind them, the screams and excited voices of school groups echoed, but the two of them were in a lull between throngs.

The prompts for the day that I used were ‘firsts’ and ‘aquarium date.’ The aquarium part was a no brainer for me, because I head canon that Loki is a big nature lover, and that he particularly loves the ocean.

Rays sailed through the water alongside the shark. Those, Loki was more familiar with. They’d had them on Asgard. Extinct now, of course. All of Asgard’s species, all its plants, animals, insects, all of it, were extinct. It was a depressing thought.

Okay, well, this is a fluffy fic, but obviously I’m incapable of writing pure fluff. It’s Loki, so there has to be some angst.

Always prone to depressing thoughts, Loki was. He looked at the whale shark again, then at Stephen, leaning over the plaque and reading it—mostly for Loki’s benefit, so the two of them could talk about it. That made Loki’s heart swell. His sadness would always be with him, but his happiness sat next to it, bright and blinding. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of the New York Sanctum, human sorcerer and ridiculously, heart-poundingly beautiful man, was responsible for much of it.

Loki is really, really in love. And he can finally be free about admitting it.

Turning around, Stephen met Loki’s eyes and said, “So, the Georgia Aquarium was a good choice?”

In preparation to write this fic, I googled what the world’s best aquariums were. I knew the Georgia Aquarium was a big deal (both from living in north Florida for a time and just...being a person who likes zoos and aquariums), but I wanted to see if there were others. Obviously, Stephen can go anywhere, so for their first date, he would take Loki to the best of the best. The Georgia Aquarium does consistently appear at the very top of aquarium lists (others were Monterey Bay and one in...Dubai, I think?).

I spent a lot of time on the Georgia Aquarium’s website. It’s a huge place and has lots of different aquariums, so I had to choose the one they would spend most of their time at. The website has webcams on a lot of the aquariums, so I actually watched them while I was writing.

[...] This place made one want to learn about Earth’s oceans, which might make them less prone to destroying them. Since he’d taken up permanent residence on Earth, Loki had learned to love it—and he’d grown increasingly aware that humanity was rather short-sighted about the planet they lived on.

Loki the environmentalist.

Then again, somehow he doubted that if Hela had been better educated about Asgard’s mollusk population, she would have decided not to take over and kill everyone.

This line always makes me laugh.

[...] “Good,” Stephen said. “I figured you’d like it. But, you know. First date and everything. I wanted to get it right.”

The squirming in Loki’s stomach turned to a full explosion of butterflies. First date. Could two people have a first date when they’d already exchanged avowals of love? Hadn’t that been the first date? Or perhaps their first date had been years ago, without either of them quite knowing it?

It’s always a balance for me to write these fics that take place in the ‘future,’ as compared to where I am in the chronological writing of this verse. I just finished fic #6 in my series, which takes place in 2027. This fic takes place in 2030. The avowals of love Loki refers to hear is from the end of the last fic in the series, ‘The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling,’ and is when the two of the officially get together. They unknowingly going on their first date years ago is a reference to the fact that the two of them have been doing date-like activities with each other for years, just with neither of them admitting it. One of my other fics for Froststrange Week is actually one of these instances (‘far away from here and closer to somewhere else,’ where they run into each other in Hong Kong and get drunk together). In fic #8 (which I’m working on now), they end up spending the day together in London. In fic #9, they spend a lot of Thor and Jane’s wedding together.

He craned his head up to stare at the top of the glass tunnel,

They’re in the Ocean Voyager aquarium.

suddenly not knowing what to say, feeling as though he might make a fool of himself. A sea turtle swam by slowly, the underside of its shell gleaming like the moon. The truth was that he’d probably made a fool of himself in front of Stephen so many times that it no longer even registered to him.

Or maybe… Loki looked over at him. Stephen was watching him, a look in his eyes that made warmth spread through Loki. Maybe Stephen didn’t actually find Loki foolish. Maybe he never had.

The idea of Loki being a sentimental fool is something that pops up pretty constantly in my fics. Here, Loki is thinking of times he’s actually looked stupid in front of Stephen, real and imagined. He has the wherewithal to recognize that maybe a lot of them are imagined, and that even the real humiliations don’t make Stephen view Loki as a fool.

“How did you know I would like this?” Loki asked.

[...] “Remember the time we went to the Museum of Natural History?”

“Yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “You really played tour guide quite often, didn’t you?”

Giving Loki an amused look, Stephen said, “It seemed like the decent thing to do. I had royalty living at my house.”

[...] “Silly me,” Loki said. “I thought it might be because you had a bit of a thing for me back then.” Stephen shot him a crooked smile. It wasn’t agreement. But it certainly wasn’t denial, either.

Stephen definitely did have a thing for Loki back then. Loki had a thing for him, too. By the time Loki leaves the Sanctum, they’re in love with each other, though neither of them has quite realized it yet. Stephen realizes much sooner then Loki (surprise).

[...] If Loki was being honest, he’d been mildly terrified that he would arrive at the Sanctum and Stephen would do something—look at him in some way, speak to him in a way that was just a bit false—that Loki would know that Stephen had thought about it and decided that they’d made a terrible mistake and he was looking for a way to extricate himself from their new…relationship. Romance. Whatever it was.

This is Loki’s constant fear. It takes him a long, long time to stop worrying about it. It’s his fear with everyone, though. Boil Loki down to his bare essentials, and you get a giant heart and massive abandonment issues.

Loki snorted with laughter and then grinned at Stephen. “Your expression, honestly, Strange. I’ve seen you face far greater foes with much less fear.”

[...] Shrugging, Stephen said, “Kids. Not really my thing.”

“It’s not as though you need to bring them home.”

[...] “I enjoy the chaos that children cause.”

“You might be the only person here who’s enjoying the decibel level of that pack of kids,” Stephen said.

Loki actually really likes kids! And Stephen doesn’t at all.

Loki flashed a grin at him, thought about making a joke about having children, and then dismissed it. It would be a joke, because the last thing Loki wanted right now, possibly ever, was a child that he could pass all his hang-ups to. His own upbringing had been…a challenge. He doubted his ability to overcome it.

My main interest in the two of them ever having a child lies in exploring Loki’s issues with his own father.

[Stephen reveals his big surprise...is that he booked an aquarium sleepover] It was more than Loki didn’t know what to think. What was an aquarium sleepover? Sleeping here? They allowed people to do that? Had this cost extra money? Stephen didn’t have any money, so why would he spend extra on something like this?

You really can do aquarium sleepovers at the Georgia Aquarium! It’s actually not that expensive, but Loki knows that Stephen’s only income is a stipend from Kamar-Taj. Stephen has nothing at all left over from his pre-wizard days and he depends entirely on that stipend.

[...] The two of them continued through the aquarium, visiting each gallery in turn. Even though Loki was quite sure Stephen’s interest in all of this was limited, he never gave any indication that he was bored. He seemed, actually, entirely taken by Loki’s enthusiasm, and that was a feeling that Loki had certainly never experienced.

I really tapped into that brand-new relationship feeling for this fic, haha.

The number of healthy romantic relationships that Loki had experienced was…pretty close to zero, so there had never been someone who had been interested both in sleeping with him and in seeing him enjoying his interests.

It actually is zero. Loki has never had a healthy romantic relationship. He’s hedging here because the romantic encounters he’s had that approach healthy count to him as relationships.

They ate dinner at the aquarium café, which was serviceable but nothing special. At least, the food was nothing special. It was the first time Loki and Stephen had eaten dinner together as a couple. Gods. Loki felt like an adolescent. He was eating a veggie burger and Stephen was eating chicken tenders, with drinks they’d filled themselves out of a fountain machine, and somehow it was the most romantic dinner he’d ever had. Stephen’s knee pressed against Loki’s under the table and he leaned forward like he couldn’t stand that the table top had put a couple feet of space between them.

In other words, Loki could have been eating just the ketchup packets that had been provided to him on his tray, and he would have been happier than he’d ever been in his life.

This is one of my favorite parts of the whole fic. Anyone who’s ever been crazy about a new romantic partner has had this experience, I think.

[Stephen conjures butterflies for the kids they encountered earlier] Suddenly, thousands of blue butterflies burst from within the half-spheres, swirling in a bright blue stream across the ceiling and amongst the children, whose delighted shrieks made their teachers wilt. The butterflies flitted, azure and lapis, iridescent, bobbing on air currents, until they turned to wisps of light and disappeared.

I rarely make use of the whole butterfly thing with Stephen, primarily because I tend to associate it with another Stephen ship (which is one of my NOTPs), but...it’s nice, right? I wanted to use it. A butterfly also appears in Doctor Strange, so it’s imagery that seems to be sort of associated with him.

[left alone in the gallery for their sleepover...] Loki looked around. “Shouldn’t there be other people here?” he asked.

Stephen looked immensely satisfied with himself. “Nope. We get the whole gallery to ourselves.”

Furrowing his brow, Loki asked, “How? Did you buy all the tickets?” This seemed as though it would have been exorbitantly expensive.

Still looking enormously pleased, Stephen said, “I might have played the Sorcerer Supreme card.”

“No one knows what the Sorcerer Supreme does.”

“Okay, fine. I said I was an Avenger.”

My head canon is that Stephen is pretty disdainful of the Avengers. He definitely doesn’t want to be part of the ‘team.’ He’s a loner by nature. Definitely the guy who hated group projects, because he was the one that got stuck doing all the work. This loner quality is something that Loki and Stephen have in common.

[...] Loki buried his nose in Stephen’s hair and breathed in his scent, his shampoo that smelled like sandalwood, the cologne he had definitely put on today, cedar and faintly citrusy. Norns, he smelled good.

Loki first associates the smell of sandalwood with Stephen in Sleight of Hand (it’s right at the end of chapter 12). His cologne makes an appearance in my fic ‘Afterimage,’ which is the fifth fic in my series.

[...] Loki took the sleeping bags from Stephen and undid the ties on them, which were knotted far too tightly for Stephen to loosen.

Stephen actually being affected by his disability is always important for me to include.

[...] Loki laughed. Maybe none of the other Masters thought Stephen was funny, but Loki had always found his sense of humor addictive, sly and surprising, and perfectly suited to Loki’s own.

This is a callback to Stephen’s and Wong’s exchange in Doctor Strange:

“People used to think I was funny.” “Did they work for you?”

[...] There were other things in the bag—a change of clothes for tomorrow, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some over-the-counter medications. When Stephen went to the bathroom to change, Loki snooped more thoroughly. Razor blade, shaving cream, nail clippers, a little bottle of mouthwash, a bottle of cologne. Loki decided to pop the cap open and smell that, then tried to tell himself that the feeling that washed over him could be described in some other way than ‘a swoon.’ There was nothing in the bag that implied Stephen thought they’d be doing anything tonight but sleeping.

I really love this because it’s really not particularly above board for Loki to snoop through Stephen’s bag...but it is a very Loki thing to do. And pretty human. Especially because he’s looking for condoms and lube. Of course he is! They’re spending the night together...are they Spending The Night Together?

[...] Stephen looked at the foot of empty space separating the two sleeping bags, then glanced up at Loki. “Are you comfortable with…” he began, then trailed off, before trying again, “I mean, do you want to be…further away…?”

“Do you?” Loki asked. When Stephen hesitated, Loki took a guess about what the honest answer was, then reached out and tugged Stephen’s sleeping bag until it was right next to his.

Stephen is big on enthusiastic consent. Loki is far more willing to take his chances and guess based on body language.

Eventually, they drew apart, and Loki couldn’t help suspecting it had something to do with the way Stephen seemed to be keeping his hips pulled back just a little. Temptation. If Loki reached down…

But no. Instead, he very deliberately folded an arm under his head, resting his head on his bicep. Stephen did something that looked like it was probably a clothing or anatomy adjustment to accommodate a situation, but Loki didn’t comment. Quite honesty, he had his own situation down there, and it just felt like good manners not to say anything.

I honestly have no idea what guys would do in this situation. Just guessing based on both of their personalities. Is a first date too soon to admit, ‘Hey, you just gave me a boner?’ It feels like it is?

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. They simply stared at each other. Then, Stephen said gently, “I know you’re worried.”

“Worried?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m worried about?”

Stephen’s gaze didn’t waver. “This.” When Loki pressed his lips together, Stephen added, “You think I’m going to change my mind. Right?”

No one has ever gotten Loki the way Stephen gets him. And Stephen is very patient, very gentle, and very like...you know when you pspspspsps and hold your hand out to a cat? That’s Stephen with Loki, haha.

[...] “The reasons are myriad, of course [for Loki’s insecurity]. I’ve made poor choices. But yes. In part, it’s because I’m…challenging. And people change their minds.”

Oh hey look, it’s the author projecting.

[...] But Loki was greedy. He didn’t want to say in a few months, or a few years, This was great while it lasted.

There’s something kind of sad to me about the idea that Loki can’t even view his love for Stephen as an entirely good thing. He’s a sentimental fool, he’s overly romantic, he’s greedy. And if I wanted to go this route, I could easily make Loki very co-dependent in this relationship; it would be easy to turn it really unhealthy. But I don’t want to, haha. It makes sense that Loki would feel like he has to gorge himself on Stephen’s adoration of him, because he’s never really had this before, not from someone he wants to be with (other people have loved him, but he hasn’t loved them back).

He would already have to give it up too soon, because he would outlive Stephen by such a long time. And he already knew there would never be anyone else.

There isn’t. Stephen will die, and Loki won’t ever be with anyone else. Luckily for him, he gets Stephen back eventually.

Stephen leaned forward and kissed Loki softly; the most tender, most heartfelt kiss Loki had ever experienced. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips warm against Loki’s.

It was difficult not to deepen the kiss, difficult not to kiss Stephen harder. He’d never needed anything to be true as much as he needed this to be true, or at least it felt like it. Don’t worry. But Loki always worried. All the good things in his life still felt so fragile, as though they could implode at any moment.

Though—he supposed he was getting better at not actively sabotaging them himself.

This is part of Loki’s arc in my fic. Stephen and he aren’t together until Loki heals in a lot of other ways. One of them is not trying to blow things up so he can control their destruction.

Thank you so much for asking!! Sorry for the delay in responding.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

#froststrange #strangefrost #loki #stephen strange #Anonymous

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pumpkintheriddlemaster · 3 years

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Heyhey., saw u have a neighbor au? That turned into a ghost hunt unsolved au? Care to share with the class? 👀👀👀👀

Ok listen Listen

The day I get my ass to consistently write its all over for you motherfuckers because I have so many fic ideas and so many aus

I’m a soft Fucker at heart so example of fic is this fucker that rammed straight through my brain skull was because of a stupid bit in one of my seastars tv shows.

Long story short the joke was neighbor 1 and 2 has windows facing each other.

1 window is his kitchen window, 2 is their bathroom window. 2 makes a subductive expose shoulder flirt thing and it’s funny because gay homophobia whatever it’s fucking king of the hill I don’t care.

THE FACT IS

I want to make it gay :)

So picture this with me, dear sweet tired-dummy

Dear sweet Martin Blackwood has acquired a house do to reasons and other nonsense you know fic stuff, and also acquires a new neighbor after like, idk fuck it a year or so.

Martin doesn’t really pay much mind but one day, you see, he spots the fluffiest, darkest, dumbest black cat he has ever seen across his window getting ready for work one day peaking through his bathroom curtains.

The cat is doing that fucking, cherp machine gun squeaks at a big af moth or some shit fluttering around in his window flower bed (headcanon for this fic is he planted flowers and plants to help bees and butterflies and shit because come in he would)

And because cats are always worth being a little behind schedule he spends like, 5 minutes watching this cat.

And then my dear, someone pulls back the curtains on the other side to retrieve their silly dumbass kitty

And oh no for Martin, he’s a very cute man :)

And so that’s how it starts and continues with various cute fluff bits like mused messy haired mornings on either side, Jon singing while cooking in the mornings, Martins shower singing, little notes put on the windows, eventual flirting you know the drill.

There is defo a moment of Jon going “ARMS!!!” Internally at one point or another because you know

And a recreation of the king of the hill but that started this all but sweeter and more soft gay and gentle teasing you know~

But here’s where it gets stupid because I’m discord buddies with @spider-plants and every time we come up with small au ideas they always spiral into either more or something else.

So this fic went from windows neighbor with light flirting and kitty into “oh shit my new co-worker who I will be spending so many hours and possibly sharing hotel rooms with has already seen me (shirtless, a complete mess, sitting in the kitchen counter at 3 am eating straight whip cream out of a bowl and threw a hack sack at the window and told me to go to bed, etc) I’m going to die”

Being this au Jon didn’t go to university for adhd projection reasons and just stuck to helping out Georgie with what the ghost.

Later Mel got ahold of Georgie to see if she could steal Jon for a new ghost hunt uk segment that’s like buzzfeed unsolved because of the dynamic yo

So Jon with not much going on begrudgingly agrees to try an episode.

Buuuuuut

Guess who’s one of mels camera men :)

That right! The big boy man himself!!!

More shenanigans ensue!

So yeah, that like, the jumbled up baseline idea that kinda spiraled and man I have so many ideas I hope I can write literally anything one day

This au has no fear powers but normal theoretical supernatural events, mostly fluff maybe angst if I get to that, and t4t ace4ace jmart teaholding because it’s my fic and I said so

Hope that like, have you a coherent answer lol I kinda rambled ^~^

#jonmartin #tma fic #tma #the magnus archives #if I ever write any of my fics man #I want too!!!#lots of fluff and ace stuff but god damn is motivating my adhd ass hard to do

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theradioghost · 5 years

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some recs for my podcast mutuals who are burnt out on horror & sad plot stuff

aka I’ve been seeing a few flavors of people exhausted by several of the most popular podcasts around here being pretty dark right now & I have attempted to put together a tasting menu of some stuff I think might help alleviate that burnout (& which also deserves some more love)

1. I'm okay with stuff that’s still on the dark or macabre side, I'd just like something that isn’t 100% characters I care about suffering horribly all the time, maybe some laughs in there

The Beef and Dairy Network: Like a seriously disturbing body horror podcast, except British satirical comedy! About cows! You kind of have to listen to it to get what’s going on tbqh it’s nearly impossible to explain but if you like horror and are just tired of being depressed about it maybe try this one. NOT for the easily nauseated.

Wooden Overcoats: black comedy sitcom about two rival funeral homes on a small island, one run by The Most Perfect Man On Earth (tm) and the other run by two misanthropic twins with a knack for disaster (and their hypercompetent assistant (and a mouse who wants to be an author)). this one is about watching the protagonist suffer horribly all the time but like, this time it’s usually a lot funnier and honestly he deserves it

Death by Dying: (so far very short) dark comedy about the resident obituary writer of idyllic Crestfall, Idaho, who sets out to tell the stories of how the town’s residents died and ends up uncovering a lot of other things, like conspiracies, and man-eating cats, and a poet’s vanishing childhood home, and what his friend the Angel of Death isn’t telling him about what’s in the dark woods. has very strong ASOUE or Pushing Daisies vibes, that sort of dark whimsy and really distinct narrative voice

Arden: “true crime” comedy-ish mystery podcast feat. two of the best bickering hosts anywhere and a whole third host called homoerotic tension, trying to solve a decade-old Hollywood mystery. secretly a shakespeare adaptation. one of the hosts is michelle agresti. an airline run by killer robots is involved, somehow. it’s a perfect storm

2. I’m good with some plot and higher stakes, but I need something more kind and hopeful right now:

Middle:Below: 10-minute episodes about a man who travels between the worlds of the living and the dead to solve the problems of restless ghosts, and the three friends he does it with -- a ghost, a cat, and a writer. their tagline is “remember: bad things will happen.” this is basically a lie, this show is extremely sweet

Alba Salix: high fantasy medical workplace comedy about hospital staff in a fairytale-ish kingdom, namely one grouchy witch, one distracted fairy, and one extremely disgruntled teenager sentenced to community service. also comes with the miniseries The Axe And Crown, which is about a gay troll bartender, his clueless landlord, and his bombastic niece, and also is one of the most heartfelt touching pieces of audio fiction I’ve ever heard?

Dark Ages: also a high fantasy workplace comedy, but in this one the dysfunctional cast work at a magical natural history museum, which thanks to recent events is now hosting the mythical Dark Lord on top of all the usual problems caused by their complete incompetency.

Solutions to Problems: a sci-fi relationship advice show feat. human host Janet and alien host Loaf. also feat. banter, illegal time travel, what to do when the AI that controls the air you breathe is your on-again-off-again girlfriend, and how to avoid your many spouses when they insist you need to come back to the homeworld and spend some time with your spawn.

Victoriocity: steampunk buddy-comedy mystery show, in which misanthropic detective Archibald Fleet (aka Tom Crowley but he’s grouchy this time) and intrepid newbie journalist Clara Entwhistle (aka an absolute ray of sunshine) uncover some Secret Plots within the government of a very different victorian london. if you like the “opposing personalities come to care deeply about one another as friends” trope this one is for you

Inn Between: not an actual play, but a show about the developing relationships of a party of RPG-esque adventurers as they rest at the inn between campaigns. you don’t see the adventures, just the crew growing closer and learning about one another in their moments of peace.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: sci-fi adventure about a stranded biologist and a ragtag crew of smugglers who set out to resist an authoritarian government, solve a mystery, and prevent a second human-alien war. as far as I can tell their plan for accomplishing this is to be as funny, gay, and adorable as possible, and to dismantle oppressive systems via the power of found family tropes. also via the power of linguistics.

3. just give me the fluffiest, funniest, sweetest, most relaxed, lowest-stakes thing you have:

Everything is Alive: meditative, deeply touching show where Guy From Public Radio holds interviews with inanimate objects. the interviews are super genuine and beautiful and I think they’re improvised, or at least they sound very natural? for people who want to be profoundly moved by a can of generic brand cola (you may not know but you are one of those people)

Standard Docking Procedure: a self-described “hopepunk” scifi sitcom about a group of employees on a space station, dealing with the little daily misadventures of difficult tourists, traffic control disasters, nonexistent love lives, and each other. Has an explicitly stated purpose of staying happy, lighthearted, and comforting.

Love and Luck: tied for absolute most heartwarming audio drama in existence. the story of the relationship between two Australian men, told through voicemail messages, as they fall in love, start a cafe, build a supportive and loving local queer community of close-knit friends and chosen family who help one another through thick and thin, and also find out that they can do magic apparently (IMPORTANT NOTE: there are some darker events and themes tackled in the plot starting around the latter half of the first season, but the focus of the story itself is always on how people support and help one another through trauma and difficulty, and the explicitly stated core premise of the show is that every character will have a happy ending and be okay.)

Quid Pro Euro: Look Around You-esque satire of old 80s and 90s instructional tapes where Felix Trench tells you what the European Union will look like in the far-off year of 2000. I don’t know anything about the European Union but I cackle like a witch when I listen to this

The Cryptonaturalist: I know you’ve seen his tweets. well it’s that but a podcast. just a man with an extremely nice voice talking about fantastical creatures like salamanders that swim through parking lot asphalt or foxes that roam the shelves of libraries at night. in between he reads poetry and generally talks about nature in the most beautiful way you could imagine. this show feels like a peaceful walk in the woods.

The Hidden Almanac: a podcast made 90% out of gentle fantasy worldbuilding, as a somewhat grumpy man in a plague doctor mask tells you about the history of his world and distributes gardening advice. has an immense archive of four-minute long episodes. it’s best to listen in order, because there is continuity, and be aware that about the first year or so has dropped off most feeds. written and performed by much-loved fantasy writer and artist Ursula Vernon and her husband Kevin.

Startripper!!: the other forerunner for most heartwarming audio drama in existence. seriously, you cannot imagine how much joy Startripper!! will bring into your life. it’s just the travelogue of one little alien with a heart full of enthusiasm and love setting out to see the universe and making friends along the way with just about everyone he meets, including his extremely loveable spaceship AI. I really mean it. listen to this show if you listen to nothing else.

Cabin Pressure: BBC radio workplace comedy about the dysfunctional crew of the world’s smallest airline. not only utterly hilarious but will tug on your heartstrings more than you could possibly imagine (this does not look at first like a found family story but it so very much is). warning for bendytoots cucumberpatch but like, in the one and only valid role he’s ever played. you definitely cannot find this show by searching its name on the Internet Archive.

#HEY DO YOURSELVES A SELF CARE! LISTEN TO SOME THINGS THAT ARE NICE! I LOVE YOU #bobbie recommends things #my posts #podcast recs

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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HC Modern AU: Uesugi-Takeda force in Quarantine

Hey, there loves! So here is the other half of our lovable warlords spending time in quarantine! Hope yall enjoy it! and I hope everyone is staying safe!^o^ Also just side note i’ll start back up with writing everyones matchups on Monday! <3

Yukimura

The two of you were sitting together playing videogames when the news broke

Yuki got a text from Sasuke saying he should check the news!

You finished your game before switching over to the tv mode; on your flatscreen.

OOOOH shit, Yukimura low key freaks out and thinks this is the start of the zombie apocalypse (maybe you shouldn’t have introduced him to black ops zombie mode)

“hey, dummy, we better hit the shops before they get cleared out.”

Is shook when he arrives at the shop, and all the shelves are empty, like WTF

The two of you spend most of your time together, snuggled on the couch playing videogames, or watching YouTube videos.

Yukimura is a definite fitness fanatic so he spent a good 10 minutes pouting when he got a notification on his phone saying all gyms would be closed

That okay, at least I can go jogging around the……………*TV playing in the background* “during the lockdown period all jogging, running, walking dogs and cycling is forbidden, and anyone found outside on foot will be locked up.”

Cue Yuki low key having a small breakdown about losing his gains. You kiss his forehead and put on your favorite YouTube fitness video

“Just cause the gym is closed doesn’t mean you can work out, dummy.”

The two of you will often do some small exercises in the garden together to soak in that vitamin D and keep fit!

Yuki will spend half his time phoning Shingen pestering him about his health

You usually drag Yuki to the coach and big spoon cuddle him while you run your fingers through his hair. He can’t help but worry about all his friends. You wrap your arms around him and bring him out of his panicked state. When he calms down, he switches with you and now gently holds you, nuzzling into your neck, leaving a few small kisses. “Dummy, I’m supposed to be the one reassuring you that everything is okay.”

Kenshin

The two of you are cuddling surrounded by your army of fluffy bunnies when you see the news about the virus break

“some guy named Corona is waging war against the world? Never fear love, I will kill anything that tries to lay a finger on you.”

Explains to Kenshin, that it’s a virus and an invisible enemy

“I don’t care if it’s a biological war or a physical one, I’m gonna kill it.”

You giggle while snuggling closer to Kenshin, “silly bunny lord.”

Kenshin makes sure that the two of you are stocked up for the long hall.

He low key bought all the alcohol in the liquor stores, as well as all the plumps he could get his hands-on.

Came back, followed by a few more stray rabbits, guess we will just have to make them part of the family.

The two of you spend your time together playing all sorts of random board games, mainly strategy based ones to soothe his need to fight.

Connect to Yuki and the other via Call of Duty Black ops server. The two of you troll everyone of your friends for laughs. Also, if Kenshin can’t kill people in real life anymore, then killing people over a game is the next best thing

The two of you love cooking together, Kenshin will make his picked plums, and you will make some nutritious food for the two of you, cause you definitely can't live off of just pickled plums

It's no secret that the two of you love to cuddle up to each other, surrounded by your sweet little bun buns. Your favorite thing to do when you’re feeling anxious about the whole state of the world is to, lie together in your hammock. You usually rest your head on his chest while he soothingly pulls his fingers through your hair. The lulls you into a relaxing sleep while protecting you from all the dangers of the world seen or unseen

Shingen

The second the news breaks you are beyond freaked out; you look up at Shingen with so much worry and fear in your eyes

This is a deadly virus for those with a compromised immune system and Shingen fits that description perfectly.

You make a point of it to do as much research as possible to make sure you are prepared for anything and everything

He juts smile at his worried little goddess, saying that if his beloved angel is at his side protecting him, then nothing will be able to harm him

You insist on doing the grocery and supply runs; you are sure to buy a year’s supply worth of alcohol and sweets.

Awww dang all the liquor stores are sold out! This must be Kenshin’s doing. DARN THAT GOD OF WAR. Well at least you have your and Shingen’s precious candy

You buy sooo, many gloves, hand sanitizers, and masks.

Sasuke is kind enough to organize Shingen his very own oxygen machine and bring the two of your some multivitamins to help fend off any threat

Loves to watch movies together on the couch. Shingen will spontaneously get up when the music starts to play from the musical that you are watching. He will grab your hand and pull you up, while positioning his hand around your waist. He will then turn your lounge into a makeshift dance floor for the whole duration of the song.

You guys love to do carpentry together. Often the two of you can be found in the garage making random things. You would make birdhouses and feeders, and Shingen would make furniture for your house.

The two of you also, connect to the Black ops server with all your friends to find out how everyone is. Shingen gets scolded for 20min over the game by Yuki for not answering the phone every time he calls. Scolds him, even more, when he hears Shingen munching on sweets. The two of you just laugh at the young man while continuing to stuff your faces with sugar

You can’t help but be worried about Shingen's health! You watch him closely and make sure he takes his vitamins and meds to keep his health up.

Of course, Shingen will see you be a bit anxious and pepper your face with kisses. “The only medicine I need is the healing kiss of my goddess.”

He will then start to tickle you so that he can see that beautiful smile back on your face. He really loves that dazzling smile of yours.

The two of you can often be found curled up together on the bed while Shingen rubs soothing circles on your back, whispering reassuring words in your ears.

Sasuke

This friendly neighborhood ninja knew what was up long before the news broke, he had heard some rumors from his fellow professors at the university

He makes sure to have your shared apartment adequately stocked up of the event.

Sasuke bought the two of you matching black masks. To lighten the mood, the two of you put on the masks and any black clothes you could find and start playing ninja hide and seek.

Sasuke wins after you spent 20 minutes looking for him with no luck of finding him. He appeared out from the shadow of the curtains, snaked his arms around your waist, and pulled you to him while kissing peppering your hair, neck, and cheeks with small little kisses. You could help but giggle at your sweet, lovable ninja

The two of you spent most of your time playing board games, videogames and doing random science experiments for fun.

Cause Sasuke is a university professor busy with his Ph.D., he spends most of his time researching and writing. You loved spending time with him while he would sit on the bed, typing up his dissertation. You would cuddle up next to him and read. He would occasionally drop a small kiss on the top of your head as a silent thank you for supporting him and keeping him company.

You and Sasuke loved to you play videogames with your friends; it helps soothe both your anxiety to hear the sound of their voices over the speakers of your tv. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh at your caring friend scolding Shingen over the mic for everyone to hear

You and Sasuke loved to go outside at night, spread your softest fluffiest blanket on the grass and lie together while looking up at the night sky. You were shocked that the sight of the sky. You hadn’t seen such a clear night sky since being back in the past. You could see an ocean of bright beautiful stars. Sasuke told you it was due to the atmosphere not being as polluted as it usually is due to everyone being forced to stay at home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia

Both of you could often be found cuddled up together under the night sky, savoring the bright new sky that the two of you had not seen in a long while.

Kennyo

When the news broke the two of you were shook, you did a bunch of research to see precisely what this virus is and how to minimize the risk of getting infected.

You guys would watch the news every morning to keep up to date with the happenings

Kennyo immediately called all his friends to make sure they were staying safe and well; he especially called Shingen to make his old friend was doing okay with his compromised immune system

Kennyo went on the food run cause he couldn’t bear the thought of having his beloved exposed to the risk of the outside world

He came back from the shopping run with both his arms full of stray cats.

This sofi boy couldn’t help but rescue the poor cats from the streets.

Both of you spend the afternoon building each cat its own little new bed while also naming each new members of your family. You guys spend hours together playing with the cats.

The two of you would make up hampers with blankets, masks, vitamins, and food. Kennyo will always be a soft monk at heart and can’t help but want to give back to his community.

The two of you drive around for hours and deliver these hampers to the less fortunate.

Kennyo was sad that the church had been closed, especially being this close to Easter.

You discovered that many priests actually filmed their own YouTube videos online, which the two of you now watch together.

Even during the time of the virus, your spirits are still lifted, the two of you love celebrating Easter, so you have made it your personal mission to gather up all the art supplies in your house and make Easter decorations. The two of you even painted all the rocks in your garden to look like colorful Easter eggs.

Kennyo knows that you still have a bit of anxiety regarding the virus and the mass panic of the world. So, he will build a little blanket and pillow fort with you. Once the fort is built, he will pull you down to rest your head on his lap while he gently pulls his fingers through the long strands of your hair. The two of you spend hours in the little fort you built yourselves just chatting and enjoying each other’s company. Kennyo will occasionally bend down and surprise you with a kiss on the nose when he sees the small crease from between your eyebrows from your overthinking mind

I hope ya guys enjoy it! And are staying safe and well! don't forget to wash your hands and stay fit and healthy during this time!

#ikesen headcanon #ikemen sengoku headcanons #ikesen hc #ikemen sengoku hc #yukimura sanada #ikesen kenshin #kenshin ikemen sengoku #uesugi kenshin #sasuke sarutobi #ikemen kennyo #ikemen sengoku kennyo #kennyo #ikemen shingen #shingen takeda #ikemen sengoku shingen

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ellewords · 3 years

Note

Hi Elle!! Omg congratulations on hitting 1k!! 🎉 I haven't been active on tumblr since I'm nearing a submission and defense for a major requirement in uni 😞 But I hope you're doing well! I also hope you don't mind if I join your event 💜

Pronouns are she/ her. Fave tropes: friends to lovers/ soulmates. Facts about me:

▪︎I was an athlete and was into performing arts for a decade

▪︎competed nationally and earned national titles also went on an international stage (dance)

▪︎I used to be a peak ENFP but college turned me to an ISFJ (altho i consider myself to be an ambivert, and the introv aspect is 55%, so i really am just in the middle)

▪︎i am a taurus sun, leo rising, and gemini moon

▪︎i love reading and listening to music

▪︎dog person

▪︎despite the active lifestyle i used to have, i still love to eat good food and sleep all day

-👒

you’ve been cast !

a note from the director! hi hi sorry it took quite a bit to get this out >_< you might just be the coolest person ever,, a dancer?? woah...also, I hope your defense went well bby !! anyways, thank you for sending in your resume, I hope you like this <3

elle presents… [ meet-cutes: a soulmate au ]

starring

yn <3

MIYA osamu as the main lead : he’s the guy that you never really thought twice about whenever you’d pass by him in the streets. but every now and then, he’d give you a little nod or maybe even a smile, and your heart races just a little bit quicker. when osamu finally introduces himself, both of you just end up wondering why he didn’t do it sooner. honestly, one hundred percent down to just spend the day sleeping and relaxing. loves it when you read to him after a really long day of work and dancing wildly in the living room — you’d have to guide him a little bit though. osamu would also just love cooking for you and is delighted when you offer to help out. all in all, just the absolute sweetest.

USHIJIMA wakatoshi as the second lead : he’s the guy you grew up with. when you were still an athlete, he absolutely attended every single one of your competitions; ushijima helped you practice, offered you constructive criticism whenever you asked, and generally just one of the best people you’ve had in your corner and supporting you. your more extroverted side balances out his more mellow, reserved one. people look at the two of you and wonder, why aren’t they together yet? ushijima wonders the same thing, but the same may not be said for you.

[ series synopsis ] ln yn and miya osamu just always seem to bump into each other, never really realizing that fate just wants to nudge them in the direction they’re always meant to go.

the pilot ep : for the past decade, yn keeps bumping into a very familiar face. whether it’s dance competitions, a walk in the park, or grocery trips, the universe just seems to keep pushing her and miya osamu together. the mid-season ep : yn finally realizes that the mysterious man has been her soulmate all along. how does one of her closest friends, ushijima wakatoshi, react to such a revelation? the series finale : as she and osamu grow closer together, another one of her relationships begin to drift further apart.

a song from the ost : almost (sweet music) by hozier “i wouldn't know where to start, ‘sweet music’ playing ‘in the dark’. be still ‘my foolish heart,’ don't ruin this on me” …plays from her phone’s speaker, osamu and yn are dancing by the refrigerator light at two in the morning. all smiles and light chuckles, their hands fit each other’s perfectly.

a scene from the script ; from (ep. 1 — pilot ep : just one of many)

EXT. THE PARK - DAY

It’s a bright and early Saturday morning, the most picturesque day one could possibly ask for. The sky is a brilliant blue, the clouds the fluffiest anyone has ever seen them, the early morning dew on the individual blades of grass enticing as they fill YN’s senses. She’s seated on one of the many wooden benches situated around the park, her favorite book in hand and a cup of coffee from a nearby cafe next to her.

A mixture of children laughing as they chased each other around, birds tweeting as they perched on top of branches, and someone playing guitar a few feet away fill the air, providing the perfect backing track as she read.

Without warning, YN feels something brush against her leg — soft and…still moving? YN looks up from her book and down to her feet, only to find a white kishu dog.

YN (crouches down beside the dog, begins to pet it) Hey, buddy. You lost? Where’s your owner? (looks at the collar) Your name’s Pochi?

OSAMU Pochi! There ya are, been lookin’ everywhere.

OSAMU frantically runs towards YN, stopping in his tracks once he’s close enough for her to hear. There’s a light layer of sweat on his forehead, bending down to rest his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

YN (smiles) I’m assuming you own this little one.

OSAMU Nah, just watchin’ while my friend’s out of town. Sorry for bothering ya though.

YN Nothing to apologize for, (still petting the dog) this one is just the cutest interruption.

OSAMU narrows his eyes at YN and Pochi the dog, a fond look in his eyes as the sun’s rays hit her features perfectly. A breath gets caught in his throat, something about her just felt so familiar.

OSAMU (tilting his head to the side) I’ve seen you around, haven’t I?

YN (recognizing him) I think so…

OSAMU (smiles, a faint flush on his cheeks) Would ya want a little company? Promise me and Pochi over here will make it worth yer while.

YN I wouldn’t mind at all.

feel like getting cast for something too ? see if auditions are open here.

#📄 — the cast list!#(if you're up to it) lmk how I did ! I'd love to hear your thoughts <3 #this was a fun one to do <3 glad 'm finally getting back into writing matchups hehe

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crazy4myself · 3 years

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2020 Round Up

Thanks @btsmosphere for tagging me in this! Now lets reflect...

Fandom(s): BTS

Total fics: 5 shoot that makes me sad (12 if we count each chap of NHL)

Total words: 91,477

~SHIP/CHARACTER BREAKDOWN~

well, not much to say here because I write mxr instead of ships but I will list the members I wrote for:

Jin

Yoongi

Namjoon

Taehyung

Jungkook

~SPECIFICS~

Best and Worst Title?

Best- No Harm List

Worst- Burnt Chicken (was not feeling creative that day lolol)

Best and Worst first line?

Best- You worked to steady your shallow breathing, straining your ears over the sound of your frantic heartbeat.

Worst- You hummed to yourself as you finish setting the table taking the time to fold a crisp napkin tightly before laying the silverware on it.

Best and Worst ending line?

Best- This was the man you agreed to work for. What did he have planned to keep you compliant?

Worst- You reached for your tea as you pressed play on the track, smiling at yourself as you listened to the rythmic beat to the opening of Tear.

Note: sorry i’m and engineer I only know how to write in passive voice.

~GENERAL QUESTIONS~

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than, or about what was expected?

I didn’t start writing until April. But yes and no. I really thought I could finish No Harm List by the end of the year and I’m about half way through. However, I’ve also done a few other creative projects.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

All of them lol writing fan fiction was not on my todo list when the ball dropped last New Years.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

No Harm List. sorry I’m sounding redundent.

Okay, your most popular story?

No Harm List, currently at 636 notes. again I’m a one trick kind of gal.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Hmm that’s hard because I feel like I overall dont get a lot of interaction on my projects that aren’t No Harm List. I think Burnt Chicken was sweet and that one is never given a chance by anyone.

Story that could have been better?

Sk8er Boi, it was prompt story, but it was also rushed and I could have done a better job on it and delve more into OC and Namjoon’s relationship.

Sexiest story?

Tear was my first and possibly last attempt at smut.

Saddest story?

Again Tear. Yikes does that say something about me?

Fluffiest story?

Sk8er Boi or Burnt Chicken.

Most fun story?

Timber was very fun to write for me!

Hardest story to write?

Chapters 4 and Chapters 8 of No Harm List. I was touching very sensitive topics reguarding mental health and sexual abuse respectivly. And it went through lots of redrafts and editing to make sure it was as non triggering as possible. Luckily, I’ve gotten a lot of positive feed back and zero negitive feed bakc on it.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

easiest was Tear i went strait from outlining it to writing it in one sitting. But I wouldn’t call it the most fun. I really had fun writing Timber actually.

What story took the longest?

Chapter 8 of No Harm List, because of timing in life, and again the sensitive topics mentioned earlier.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

This whole ass year was a risk for me.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

I want to finish No Harm List and put out at least one fic for every member! Jimin, Hoseok I’m so sorry I’ve done you dirty this year my boys.

And finally, fics that you wrote in 2020:

I wrote everything in 2020 so please refer to my masterlist

Again, thanks for the tag! I’m sure a lot of people have been tagged by now but just incase I’ll do; @salade-tb, @breadoffoxy, @bangtanloverboys, @hobiwonder, @absoluteyoongit, annd @dawndrms

Happy New Year everyone. We can only go up from here right?

#tag game #happy new year #2020 wrap up #2020 round up #look at all this progress #but a moment of silence for the whips that didn't make it #maybe next year kids

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years

Text

Movie Night

Just a quick fluffy Starco idea I had for Valentine’s Day, taking place in my “Light of the Sun and Stars” universe. This is also kinda a prequal to this. Hope you enjoy!

“Is it ready?!” a very excited voice squeaked from inside Star's room, followed by an infectious giggle.

“Hold on, Marco, it's still booting up,” came the joyful reply, as Star Butterfly watched her mirror screen slowly turning on, a loading bar currently the one thing occupying the bright screen. She held up the small remote that was supposed to somehow connect to her mirror and allow her to surf through the Mirror webs options from a short distance away. Star had her doubts about this though, sure she had heard rumors about humans being able to do this back on Earth but that was just one of those myths, like the superstitious Bigfoot... or indoor plumbing. Still, when Ferguson had personally given her one of Pixtopia's patented new technology to test out, she hadn't said no... though that was partially because Marco had snatched it out of the chubby king's hand faster than lightening, examining the device with his typical childlike wonder. So yeah, long story short, she had accepted Ferguson's gift without a word, anything to make her boyfriend happy.

And now was the perfect time to test the device out, the best night of the entire week: date night! Or “Friendship Thursdays” as the two sometimes called it. Regardless, Star was glad they had decided to form a regular routine of spending time together, life could get so hectic sometimes with her new commission up and going but knowing she had this to look forward to every week, kept her going and Star was sure Marco felt that way, too.

This week, the two had decided to just spend a quiet evening in Star's room, marathoning a bunch of movies and just enjoying some time alone, just the two of them. And everything was already prepared, snacks were made by Marco (Star was impressed, he was getting really good at cooking), the two were in their fluffiest and most comfortable pajamas they owned (Star in her pink bunny onesie and Marco in matching blue dog onesie), and they had even made a small pile of blankets and pillows, ready for the two to sink into and lose themselves to its warm embrace. That was if Star could ever get this stupid remote to work right!

She frowned, staring at the blinking red light on the device in confusion, turning to Marco (and ignoring how absolutely adorable he looked in his pjs) as she asked, “Did Ferguson say it's on when the light is blue or red?”

Marco shrugged. “He didn't say either, actually,” the boy replied thoughtfully. “Here let me look it up,” he added, before pulling out the small slip of paper Ferguson had given them, which was apparently supposed to be their instructions but Marco was having trouble deciphering the multiple diagrams that coated the paper, cocking his head to the side as he tried to read the tiny print on the sheet. “Um, I think if it turns blue your connected.”

Both teens eyes switched to the remote that was still brightly flashing red and the girl let out a frustrated groan. “Ugh, stupid remote! Why won't you work?!” She then slammed it down on her desk, crossing her arms in frustration before saying to the boy, “Let's just try something else, okay? This things clearly just a piece of junk.”

But that was when the remote miraculously decided to light up blue and the mirror screen's image switched to that of a selection screen, waiting for their input. The two turned back to the remote in both shock and awe, the two leaning closer and closer to it until their eyes were level with the desk. “It worked,” Marco whispered.

“Huh, how about that?” Star said still in slight disbelief, before locking eyes with Marco.

The boy just shrugged again. “Guess it just needed a little force?”

“Well whatever happened, it's working now,” Star said, picking the remote up off the desk, waving it around in her hands while saying dramatically, “So let date night officially begin!”

“Yeah!” Marco screamed, before immediately running over and plopping down onto the soft pile of cushions, his body looking small amidst the depths of fluff he was currently drowning in and Star couldn't help but gush over how cute her boyfriend looked in that moment. She quickly joined him, the couple's arms touching as they leaned in close to one another, soaking in the other's presence. “Okay, so what are we watching first?” Marco asked giddily, his eyes shining as they stared over at the magic mirror.

Star stared at her bestie for a moment in silence, taking in his joy and enthusiasm before he eventually turned to her with a look of surprise on his face. “Star?” he asked, wondering why she had frozen up like that. “Is everything okay?”

Star shook her head, giving him a loving smile which made her hearts glow a little bit brighter. “Yeah, I was just thinking that you should decide what we watch,” she explained before holding the remote out for him to take.

The boy's eyes widened, staring down at the remote with hesitation and awe, acting as if she was bestowing some ancient relic or great power onto him, instead of just some device that made searching through her magic mirror possible. He looked up at her and then back to the remote and then back to her, as if making sure it was alright. “Really?” he finally breathed out, his eyes shimmering like Star's namesake.

The girl nodded, holding in her giggle. “Of course, Marco,” she said flirtingly. “I trust you.”

That caused the boy to blush beat red and grin ear to ear, as he finally accepted the small device, his eyes examining the smooth surface in wonderment. Star just watched his every movement in fascination and love, finding her Marco's every action infinitely more entertaining than any movie. Finally, though the boy snapped to his sense, as he actually trying to figure out how to work this strange, new device, squinting in intense concentration, determined not to mess up his task. Luckily, these buttons were labeled which made it easy to figure out, the boy (fairly) confidently pressing buttons on the remote, his eyes on the screen as he scrolled through their list of options.

Okay, what to watch? He thought to himself, his eyes never leaving the screen as he read the titles of the many movies there. But the sheer number of names quickly overwhelmed him and he decided to switch instead to list of movie genres to help make it easier. Let's see... dramas? No pass. Animal movies? No way, the last one of those he had watched had left him in tears for weeks after the dog died at the end. Horror? Marco shuddered. Definitely no! Action? The boy paused, before clicking on this file, curious to see if they had what he was looking for. And after less than a minute of scrolling the boy's eyes lit up with joy as he spotted a whole list of Mackie Hand movies. He had seen one of two of them before with the girls and had quickly fallen in love with these movies. They were incredible and action-packed and just everything he ever wanted out of a movie! And now there were so many to choose from. “How about one of these?” he asked his girlfriend, hoping she would approve of his pick.

Star turned her attention onto the screen, giving it a quizzical look. “'Hand to Hand', 'The Spy Who Punched Me', 'Talk to the Hand',” she read, before turning to her boyfriend with a raised brow. “What are all of these?”

“They're Mackie Hand movies,” Marco explained. But seeing her look of confusion, quickly added, “Y'know Star, the super cool Earth fighter from that one movie we watched where he punched a shark out of the water-”

“Ahhh,” Star said, nodding her head now. “Right, almost forgot about that.” She gave her boyfriend a loving smile as she said, “Well I'm up for whatever you want.”

Marco grinned goofily, before selecting the first movie on the list, placing the remote to his side before settling down closer to Star, the two cuddling close as the opening scene of the movie started up, their cheekmarks glowing bright with both anticipation and joy at just being able to spend time together.

…

A little while later, the two were snacking on popcorn as they watched Mackie Hand quickly defending himself from thirty angry thugs, the karate master making quick work of his opponents without even breaking a sweat. “Wow, he's so amazing,” Marco muttered in awe, snuggling a little bit closer to Star, his head now resting on her shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist.

“Yeah, this is pretty good,” Star agreed, surprised by how much she was enjoying herself. I mean, sure spending time with Marco was always a plus but the movie was actually surprisingly entertaining in its own right, finding it pretty exciting as the main character beat down hordes of opponents with nothing but his bare fists. It was a bit cheesy but it kinda gave it a very unique style that made it a fun watch.

“You will never defeat me, Mackie Hand!” the one-dimensional villain of this movie said, pointing an accusing finger at the title character. “I will soon have the power crystal and will turn the whole world into a new ice age!” He then laughed evilly as cheesy, movie villains tended to do but Mackie Hand didn't even flinch before saying triumphantly, “Not today, Ice King!” The hero then jumped at his opponent, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Tiiiigggger Kick!” before smashing his foot hard into his enemies gut, the man falling back, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach.

“Ugh, you. Have. Defeated. Me.” the man said before falling unconscious, Mackie Hand now standing triumphantly over him.

“Looks like I just put your plans, on ice,” Mackie Hand said, causing Marco to burst out into laughter. Then the credits began scrolling onto the screen and the young couple shared a look, Marco asking, “So next one?”

“Go for it.”

…

“Yeah, get 'em Mackie!” Star screamed, pumping her fists into the air as she watched the action movie hero, deep in a brawl with a highly trained ninja assassin, narrowly dodging the swinging katana in the fiend's hands.

“Take him down!” Marco cheered alongside his girlfriend, equally as excited by the fight as his blond bestie. But the two gasped as they saw the villain of this movie holding Mackie Hand's love interest over the edge of the building, the woman releasing a loud scream and fighting to escape the roped bound around her. “Oh no Maria!” the two screamed as one, clutching onto each other with fear.

“Oh no Maria, my love!” Mackie Hand exclaimed.

“Give up now, Hand,” the villain sneered. “Or your love dies!”

“No, I will never surrender to the likes of you!” Mackie screamed, before leaping forward and swiftly knocking his opponent out before jumping off the building and catching the woman out of mid-air, landing gracefully landing on the ground with her in his arms.

The two teens cheered, hugging each other tight as they watched Mackie Hand making out with the love of his life. “Awww,” the two cooed as one, their cheeks squished up against one another.

…

Marco was now almost in Star's lap, the girl's arms wrapped around him, as he watched in fear as his hero stood in front of an alleyway, where a group of ninja watched him, just out of sight. All of them held a pair of ninja stars ready to be rid of their opponent before he even knew what was coming. “Don't do it, Mackie,” Marco whispered, his body shaking in fear. “It's a trap.”

Star just smiled at her boyfriend's cuteness but kept her eyes on the screen. The man slowly began walking down the alley and Marco's shaking grew worse, his eyes in capable of growing any wider.

That was when a pair of ninja jumped out of the shadows out of nowhere, flying toward Mackie Hand, swords raised in strike, and Marco screamed, jumping in surprise as he was now fully in Star's lap, his arms wrapped around her neck and his legs tucked up to his chest.

Star tried to hold back her giggle at the boy's adorable reaction but failed to, laughing to herself as she held the boy in a tight, comforting embrace, Marco's eyes never leaving the screen as he watched Mackie Hand make quick work of his opponents.

…

“Come on! Come on!” Marco screamed, leaning forward in anticipation as he watched his favorite character of all time trying and failing to fight off his opponent, nothing working at all to stop him not even his famous 'Tiger Kick' capable of breaking through his enemie's massive armor. He was in a rough spot, probably the roughest he had ever been in and Marco couldn't help but bit his lip in fear that his hero wasn't going to make it through. Star was busy eating the remains of their popcorn, her eyes shimmering with intrigue but otherwise staying pretty calm. After all, she doubted they would kill off Mackie Hand, it just didn't seem likely.

Finally in one last desperate attack, Mackie Hand charged forward with a loud yell, drawing his fist back before slamming it hard into his opponent the guy going flying backward, before the screen was consumed by a massive explosion, the karate master standing in a dramatic pose as the bright flash of flames rained down around him. Marco screamed and flew to his feet, knocking Star's popcorn over in his haste and sending it flying. But Star didn't notice nor care, laughing her head off as her bestie began cheering and jumping around the room, doing little fist pumps and imitating the action hero with his own weak little punches. “Aw, man that was so awesome! Mackie Hand is the best!”

“Hang on, Marco, there's still more,” the girl managed to choke out around fists of laughter and the boy gasped before falling back onto the pile of cushions, his eyes already shimmering with joy and his cheek marks spinning with excitement. “Play it, play it!” he screamed.

And Star did just that.

…

The sun was beginning to rise on Mewni, signaling a new day, as the sleepy Mewmans slowly began to awaken and go about their day. Jackie and Janna walked side by side through the hallway, heading toward Star's room, as the skater asked her friend , “So how do you think date night went?”

“Well considering all the screaming and cheering I could hear from my room, I would say pretty well,” the creepy teen replied.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “You could not hear if from our room. You just snuck out and listened in again, didn't you?” the skater asked accusingly.

Janna shrugged, not denying it. “Maybe,” was all she replied, before adding, “But they were pretty loud.”

“What do you think they were watching?” Jackie asked curiously.

“I don't know, let's ask them,” Janna said, the two now at their friends door. They slowly cracked it open, sticking their heads inside, taking in the scene before them. The magic mirror was still on, a scene of some muscular guy punching people playing on the screen. And sprawled out on a pile of pillows and blankets were Star and Marco, the two curled up around each other in a comfortable and protective embrace, cuddling each other with looks of pure joy on their faces.

Jackie and Janna smiled and shared a look, before closing the door, leaving the two alone to finish the rest of their date in peace.

#Star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Light of the Sun and Stars #Starco #Valentine's

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readbeneaththelines · 5 years

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Captured Moments Pt. 1

A/N: You are an artist given the chance to work with BigHit Ent. as their Creative Art Director. Getting to spend time with BTS, you form a friendship with them. But With Namjoon, could it grow into something more?

Characters: Namjoon x Artist!Reader

Warnings: The Fluffiest Fluff, and soft Namjoon

Word Count: 4149 (The first one is always the longest for me LOL)

Thank you to the amazing @kingsuckjin for being an awesome person and being a beautiful beta! You rock you sexy thing you!

credit to the original owner of this gif

The dream job, the one that you have worked towards all your life. The artistic creator for one of the biggest Kpop groups in the world. You would have the opportunity to share your love of art, use your creative freedom, and hang out with seven of the most beautiful men you had ever seen.

You had, since you could ever remember, always had an art implement in your hands. Whether it be a crayon, pencil, or paintbrush, you were always drawing and coloring, everything. That left the world your canvas, including the white walls of your house, much to the dismay of your parents. Of course they encouraged you, just not using the walls, to create and dream. You were talented enough to earn a full ride to the college of your dreams, Seoul National University. You spent the next 5 years studying your ass off, improving, growing, finding your niche in the art world. Your final year of graduate school, the Dean of the Arts College, Moon Joo, came to you. “Y/N, I have had brought to my attention a position for an artistic creator. It would involve set designing, artistic creativity, and working one on one with clients. I have watched you for the past five years, and I see in you a great potential. I would like to ask you to apply for the position.” You eyes grew wide as you listened to the praises of Dean Moon, excitement building at the prospect of finally having the chance to prove yourself to the world. “Yes sir! I am honored that you considered me for the position. What will I need to prepare?” He smiled at you, his caring demeanor showing throw his usually tough exterior. “I have already taken the incentive and sent your portfolio over to the company. If you gain the position, you should be hearing something from them within the week.

A week? Your heart pounded, a slight twinge of anxiety settling in your brain. You possible future rested on your portfolio. Would it express who you were? Was it enough to give them insight to the passion that filled every fiber of your being? Taking a deep breath, you thanked the Dean and hurried down the corridor to your private studio. Fumbling for your cellphone, you pulled it from the bottom of your bag, hit call on your parents number.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered. “Shit! Sorry dad. I wasn’t thinking, I really didn’t mean to wake you.” you rushed your words, excited to share the news. “Is everything okay, sweetie?” his voice full of worry. “Yes! Yes dad, everything is great. I will call you later, when you are both up, I have something good to tell you.” You could hear your dad waking your mother. “It’s okay, hun, we’re up now. So what is this big news that you forgot the time difference?” You took a deep breath as he put the call on speakerphone. “I have been recommended by Dean Moon for a possible artistic creator for a company here in Seoul! He sent my portfolio over to them and I should hear something within the week!” You couldn’t contain the giggles that erupted as you told your parents. “This may be my big break!” You heard your mom in the background, laughing at your giddy excitement. “Congratulations sweetheart. We can’t wait to hear that you got the position. Now, we are going back to sleep, but we will call you later. We love you, and we are so happy for you Y/N.”

“Thanks, mom! Yes, get back to sleep, i’ll talk to you later, love you both.” You hung up, putting your phone on your desk. Picking up the charcoal pencil, you took a long stare at the blank canvas before putting the pencil to work, the image in your mind flowing seamlessly through your fingers. Two hours later, you had the outline created, a face of a small girl, smiling as she herself was drawing a picture. Scooting your stool back, you dusted yourself off, pleased with what you were seeing. Looking at the time, you hurriedly put your supplies away and headed to your next class.

The next week had you always on your toes, every phone call making your heart race and jumping to grab it. Four days, nine hours and thirty-six minutes after your talk with Dean Moon, you received the call you had been anticipating.

“Hello? Y/N Y/L/N speaking.” you were worried about the tone of worry in your voice, but it was quickly replaced with pure joy.

“”Yes, Miss Y/N, this is Bang Si-Hyuk, with BigHit Entertainment. I am calling in reference to your portfolio that was submitted for the position of artistic creator. I would like to extend an invitation to interview with myself and the board in person.”

BigHit Entertainment? Did you hear him correctly? Surely, this isn’t The BigHit of BTS. You almost forgot that ‘Hitman’ Bang was on the other end of the call. “Yes sir! Thank you sir. Just tell me the when and where, and I will be there.” You were given one day to prepare for the interview that would possibly change your life forever. One Day. Twenty. Four. Hours.

Thanking him profusely, you hung up, collapsing onto your small couch. You suddenly sat upright, your mind racing with everything you had to do to prepare.

“Chae! I need you!” you screamed out from your room. Your roommate came running, a panicked look in her eyes “Are you-” she stopped mid-step when she saw your huge grin. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! I thought something serious had happened!” She stormed over to you, smacking you on the arm. “But something serious did happen. I have an interview with Bang Si-hyuk, of BigHit Entertainment.” The name falling off your tongue had you reeling like a schoolgirl inside. “No! Are you for real, Y/N? What the hell?” Chae plopped down beside you on the edge of your bed. “Remember me telling you that Dean Moon sent my portfolio for a position? It was sent to him. He wants an in person interview tomorrow. Tomorrow! I have nothing to wear, I don’t have anything prepared in case he wants to see some of my other work.” Chae grabbed your hands, the contact easing the panic rising in you. “I’ll help you get things together, all of your stuff is amazing, so anything would impress the pants off of him. As far as clothes, you can borrow something from my closet. I have the perfect outfit for you.” Jumping up, she scurried down the short hallway, coming back five minutes later with a few outfits in hand.

She did have the cutest clothes. Where you always wore things thats were covered in paint or charcoal dust, she had skirts, dresses, outfits that looked classy yet refined. You settled on the flowy, purple , floor length skirt and a soft, cotton cap sleeved off-white top. It suited your carefree style and you felt like the beautiful young woman you were deep inside. Sitting at your two seater dining table, you searched through your photos of your artwork. Black and whites, colored, sepia tinted pictures covered the small area. You opted for the piece you had done your first year, a piece that was a sculpture you did for a summer art show, and lastly the piece you had been working on the past week. The smiling girl drawing, the younger you. You gently placed the photos in a binder, then placed everything in your bag. That evening, you, Chae, and a few friends had a celebratory dinner. By ten p.m. you were nestled in your bed, jittery and excited about tomorrow morning.

Your phone's alarm went off at five in the morning. Stretching, you reached over to turn it off. Jolting upright, you swung your feet over the side of the bed, slipping your feet into your favorite slippers. Passing down the hall, you headed for the kitchen and the already brewing coffee. Pouring a steaming cup of brew, you made your way to the bathroom. You showered, brushed your teeth, and set about getting ready. You could hardly contain yourself as you too one last look in the mirror.

"You'll knock'em dead, Y/N, with both your talent and your looks" Char said sleepily from your doorway. " You really think so?" You asked nervously. Coming up behind you, Char started fixing your hair as she smiled at you in the mirror. " I don't think so, I know so." Taking both your shoulders, she turned you to face her. " You are talented beyond words, you're beautiful, and smart. They would be lucky to have someone as amazing as you on their staff." You hugged your best friend, giving her a genuine grin. "Thank you Chae. You always know how to pick me up." With a hug goodbye, you walked outside your apartment to catch a cab. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling up in front of BigHit studios. Taking a deep, calming breath, you stepped out and paid the driver. Bag in hand, and a confident smile on your face, you headed inside. You showered your ID to the lady at the front desk, nodding when she confirmed your appointment.

"Please have a seat, Miss Y/N, Mr. Bang will be out in a minute." Just as your were about to sit down, you heard your name being called. You straightened yourself, taking long strides to greet the man who had called for you.

" Good morning Mr. Bang, it's very nice to meet you." You took his hand, gripping his just firmly enough to hopefully exude confidence. " Yes, welcome miss Y/N. Please, follow me. We are all looking forward to meeting you." His voice was kind and pleasant, his smile relaxing you instantly. You stepped into the board room, coming face to face with several board members, and them. Seven handsome friendly faces were smiling in your direction. Everyone rose to their feet and bowed in greeting. You bowed in return to each one as they said their name. “Please have a seat, we are very excited to finally meet you. After seeing your portfolio, we are pleased to finally meet the person behind all that talent. You could feel your cheeks burning as you blushed at their compliment.

“Thank you very much. I am honored for this opportunity to meet with you all. I hope that I am able to prove myself and my work effectively.” A round of nods of ‘yes’ filled the room as you took your seat at the head of the table.

“I was very impressed by your portfolio. You have such talent, and to think that you are still in your final year at SNU. I have only seen this kind of talent before from seasoned artists. You should be very pleased with what you have accomplished already.” one of the board members spoke up. “Yes Ma’am, thank you. I have always had a heart for art, ever since I could remember. I was always creating, drawing, sculpting, even as a young child. Creating beauty, creating emotion through art is in my heart and soul. I can only hope that I can touch someone on a personal level with what I create.” The woman nodded in understanding.

Bang Si-hyuk spoke up, garnering your attention to your left. “Have you brought any more of your works with you, by chance?” You nodded, pulling the binder from your bag. Opening it in front of you, several of the board members stood and came up behind you.Only the seven men sayed in their seats, talking amongst themselves. An older gentleman picked up the folio, carrying to the young men who were sitting on the opposite end of the conference table. The others took their seats as another took a stand behind his chair.

“Miss, allow me to explain what we are looking for. We are searching for someone who has the ability to take a verbalized concept and turn it into something that would express the ideas of BTS. Each of the members have a certain concept they want to have visualized by people. We want someone who will be versatile enough to incorporate each unique style and vision of each member and give something that is, for lack of a better word, ethereal. From what we have seen of your work, we believe that you are the only one that fits this ideal. Of course, your work here will be credited for your education, and we will allow you personal time to finish your studies as needed. For compensation, we will offer you along with your salary, anything you may require to earn your Master’s Degree.”

You were sure you were only imagining what they were saying and offering you. Creative freedom, a salary plus education requirements. This had to be too good to be true. “Y/N, we would like to extend you an offer in the position of Artistic Creator of BigHit Entertainment.” All you were capable of doing in response was nod while your jaw hung slightly agape. A soft chuckle from across the room brought you to your senses. “Yes! I mean, I would like to gladly accept the offer. Thank you so much, and you will not regret hiring me.” You stood as the board members came to shake your hand. You bowed politely to each one, thanking them personally for the offer. At last it was just you, Bang Si-hyuk ,and the seven members of the infamous BTS group left in the large meeting room.

One by one, each member, from youngest to oldest, stood and made their way to you. You bowed deeply, only to be interrupted with a clearing of someone’s throat. “Ma’am, there is no need to be that formal with us.” You looked up, only to see Hoseok smiling broadly with his signature grin. “So-sorry. . I just never met anyone famous before. Your face heated as you thought of how ridiculous your comment was. “It’s okay, we’re just like anyone else, normal and goofy.” Taehyung quipped, baring that adorable boxy grin of his. “Thank you. I look forward to working with you all. I hope I can meet your expectations. Namjoon spoke up, his english precise and clear. “If what you have to offer is as spectacular as what we have seen in your portfolio, there is no doubt that you will surpass our expectations. He took your hand, shaking in gently as you just stared in his eyes. Those eyes held a kindness that was beyond his age. He smiled softly at you before stepping aside for the rest of them to talk with you.

“Alright boys, let’s give her some room. We have some things to finalize, and you all have choreo to get to.” with a wave of his hand, he shooed them from the room, taking a seat next to you. “They are really excited to start working with you. Don’t let them give you any worry, you will get along nicely with them.” You gave your first genuine smile, then set about settling your contract. The salary would be more than enough to let you live comfortably. You were offered a personal studio with which to work in, and a small private apartment close to the studios. Over an hour later, you were signing your name on the bottom line of a packet that seemed thicker than any dictionary you had ever seen. Thanking Bang Si-hyuk, you shook his hand, then let him lead you out of the meeting room.

“Jisoo, would you please give Miss Y/N a tour of the facilities? Show here where she will be working and if you could please, call for a ride to take her to her new apartment.” Jisoo bowed “Yes sir, right away.” Smiling at you, she came from around her station, “Please follow me.” she motioned for you to follow her. She gave a full tour, the cafe, the studio, the practice rooms, and the main offices. “This is where you will bespending most of your time.” she motioned as she led you into a spacious art studio. Anything and everything you could ever want or need was in this space. “This is my space? I have this all to myself?” She gave a pleasant smile before answering. “Yes, Miss. If you find you need anything, please let me know and I will get it for you by the end of the day.”

As the tour concluded, you were led outside where a car and driver were waiting for you. “Mr. Hyun will be taking you to your new apartment. When you are finished there, he will bring you back here for lunch. Please come to me when you arrive and I will show you where we will be eating.” Thanking her, you situated yourself in the back seat, letting your head fall against the headrest as the events of this morning came rushing over you. The apartment was just ten minutes from the studio, and easy walk if you had to. He led you upstairs, handing you your new keys to your new place. Stepping inside , you took a deep breath. It was larger than your current place, furniture already in place. It had a cozy relaxing feel to it. Soft muted colors and oversized couch and chairs. You walked from room to room, taking mental notes of what you would need to bring with you.

Once you had a good look around, you met back with the driver. You were back at BigHit, and the driver opened your door. You could see a small throng of girls standing on the corner, their heads darting in your direction as you exited the car and were walked inside. “They really do have no privacy, do they?” you asked Mr. Hyun, who only shook his head for an answer. You met back up with Jisoo, and she walked with you to the cafe, a large buffet set up in the back.

“Ahh! Leave some for the others! You can’t hog all the pork!” Jin was pushing Taehyung aside, trying to steal the tongs from his hands. Jungkook was laughing about something Hoseok had said. When you entered, all heads turned in your direction. “Yes! The artist extraordinaire has arrived!.” Jimin came up to you, bowing slightly before giving you his heart-eyed smile. “Please, come on and join us. We just got started, hopefully there is still enough for you to enjoy.” You thanked him politely, letting him take the lead. He handed you a plate, then started to pile your dish with everything present. By the time he was done, your plate was stacked high and heavy. “Thank you Jimin.” you said, your voice small and shy.

As if reading your thoughts, Hoseok stepped between you and Jimin. “Don’t be shy, Miss Y/N, we don’t bite. Come, have a seat with us, we were just discussing your artwork.” He put his arm around your shoulder, Jimin shrugging as he grinned. “You’ll get used to him, he is a very hands on person.” Hoseok guided you to their table, introducing you to the others gathered around. You greeted them all respectfully, shaking hands and bowing as needed. “So, tell us what you’re thinking. I’m sure this is all overwhelming right now.” Looking to your right, you saw Yoongi waiting for you to take a seat. You sat down quickly, taking the offered cup of water from Jungkook. His bunny smile had you at ease immediately. “Thank you, Jungkook. Ahh, yes, it is a bit overwhelming, but I am excited to get right to work. I can’t wait to hear all of your thoughts on what you want to portray to the public. Hopefully I can give your thoughts and ideas justice.”

“From what I saw, you have nothing to worry about. Your artwork is truly amazing. Looking through your folio, I was quite excited to get to meet the person who put so much passion into what they produced. You have a raw talent, Miss Y/N. I am sure you will give our ideas more than just justice. I think it will appear as if you were inside our minds.” Namjoon’s voice made the others go silent. When he spoke, it was with authority and kindness. Everyone hung on each word, as if he was delivering an important address. “Thank you for the encouragement, Namjoon. A please, you all can drop the Miss part. I am younger than you, and it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable at the formality. That is, unless you prefer.”

“Y/N it is then. But, only on the instance that you drop formalities also.” Jin chimed in. “Yes sir. I mean, okay.” Everyone, including yourself laughed at your statement. The meal was spent in pleasant chatter. You learned about the basics of BigHit, what daily life was like within these walls. Before you knew it, all plates were empty and you were fully sated. “Alright people, back to it, we have a lot to get caught up on. Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind, please come with me. We have a few things to finalize and then you are free for the day.” You rose from your seat, saying goodbyes as you left. “I believe you will flow with those here effortlessly. I just wanted to get your schedule for the next few weeks set up then you are free to go.” He led you to his office, which was almost bigger than your living room, dining room, and kitchen combined. You sat down in a soft leather settee, sinking deep as you lowered yourself.

“May I ask a question?” He nodded a go ahead as he searched through his computer. “I was curious, I know you would expect me to start immediately, and I am ready to work. But, may have a day to gather my things from my place and say goodbyes before tomorrow?”

“Of course, Y/N. I was planning on sending some help to your place to help you move, if that is okay. I would like to have you starting yesterday, but if you need time, how about Monday morning, say seven a.m. sharp?” You readily accepted his offer, thanking him for the ample amount of time. Shortly, your schedule was set, and he walked you to the front door, holding his hand out. “I look forward to working with you, I cannot wait to see what talent you bring to BigHit. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get busy, this place almost runs itself, but I am needed here and there.” You shook his hand then bowed deeply, thanking him again for everything. You walked to the bus stop, you mind running crazy with everything that had just transpired over the first half of the day. You have to remind yourself that you couldn’t call you parents yet, but your body was buzzing with joy. Taking your phone from your bag, you called Chae.

“I got the job!” you screamed, making several heads turn in your direction. “Oh my! I am so happy for you Y/N! We are definitely celebrating tonight. Drinks are on me. See you later, and congrats again.” You hung up, your smile beaming and reaching from ear to ear so much your face hurt, but you couldn’t stop. That night, before the party began, you called your parents. Their joy and happiness was evident, and you thanked them for allowing you to follow your dream. “I am so blessed to have parents like you. Thank you for allowing me to be who I want to be, for giving me the courage to follow my heart. All I am, is because of you and dad. Thank you mom. I love you to the moon and beyond.”

“We love you too, baby. I am happy for you and this new journey you are about to go on. May it be everything you have wanted. Once you get settled, your dad and I want to come for a visit, if you have time.” You hung up, happy tears blurring your eyes. You spent the rest of the night, and well into the early morning hours telling your friends what happened that day. You and Chae cried about you having to leave her, but you promised her she could come visit as soon as she was allowed. When all was said and done, you sat on your favorite lounge chair, glass of wine in hand and thought about what your mom had said. You were starting a new journey, and hopefully it would lead you to all you ever dreamed about.

“Hello? Y/N Y/L/N speaking.” you were worried about the tone of worry in your voice, but it was quickly replaced with pure joy.

Thanking him profusely, you hung up, collapsing onto your small couch. You suddenly sat upright, your mind racing with everything you had to do to prepare.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoong i@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@kingsuckjin

#bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjooning #namjoon

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jeminy3 · 5 years

Text

Our Winter Was Warm.

Originally written for a secret santa exchange on an FMA fandom server with my friends for Christmas 2018. Specifically for Ange, a sweetheart and lovely au/headcanon-jammer in regards to anything with Roy/Hughes/Gracia. They wanted Hyuroi fluff + Gracia, and we'd talked about Hughes wanting a 2nd child named Elias with either Gracia or trans man Roy (referenced in their fic here), so this seemed the best gift for them. Not published till now because of life shit + bonus drawings I've added.

My original summary: Secret Santa gift for Ange. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I did the fluffiest hyuroigracia I could think of - married and having a baby on Amestrian Christmas <3 16k words and yet it still doesn't feel like enough, I could write forever about them ;_; but then I'd never finish, lol. This was very self-indulgent for me. Anyone is free to read if you are into it, I put a lot of work into it, and tried to be tasteful about the pregnancy and trans stuff, hopefully it is ok! Read the Google Doc here.

Read it on AO3 here. Features: hyuroigracia poly pile, trans man Roy being pregnant, Amestrian Christmas, baby Elias arrives, lots of headcanons, mostly fluff with bits of angst. Set in a divergent 03-ish universe where Hughes lived.

---

Roy wakes from dreaming, startling a little.

The nightmares seem to have lessened lately - maybe, he's not sure - either way, at least he wakes somewhat gently this time, the horrors of his brain ebbing back into his subconscious to be forgotten, for now. They leave him to blink at his surroundings and realize that he is not there again - he is in bed, at home, safe and warm within his bedsheets.

His eyes adjust to the dim, warm light of morning streaming in through the window curtains, casting everything in a sort of glow - the cozy wooden furniture, the haphazard toiletries on the dresser, the white porcelain lamp on the nightstand beside him, with pink flowers painted across its surface. Roy takes it all in, and for a hazy moment, wonders how he even reached this point in his life.

A lot has happened this past year - over a year and a half now, actually. It's been a whirlwind of events since the scarred Ishvalan appeared, and the Elrics made their grisly discoveries. Since then, Roy has exposed a deep-seeded corruption with his own government, lead a quiet, deadly rebellion against it, and personally destroyed the monster at its heart - or at least, its strongest pawn.

He gave up his dream of Fuhrership in the process, becoming branded and cast out as a traitor to his country afterwards, but in the eyes of many, he was a hero - a real hero this time, not a monster with a hero's title. Despite occasional bouts of regret, he thinks this particular exchange was worth it - figuratively, and almost literally, conquering his own Pride and ambition for the greater good.

But what feels more poignant in this moment is his more intimate accomplishments.

With enough funds and string-pulling, Roy has fully buried both his past, and past identity. Within the past few years, he finally changed the last of his records to reflect his chosen name, cutting all ties to the lonely, miserable child he once was. And even more significantly, he's changed his body as well, with an expensive, secretive chest surgery that took great pains to arrange, endure, and recover from - all without drawing suspicion. But it was done, and Roy couldn't be happier with the results.

More surgeries were a possibility, of course, but for now Roy was content with himself - he's not looking to change anything internal quite yet anyway.

Not long after that, in the midst of the chaos of the unfolding conspiracy, he finally gained the courage - or just enough blind idiocy - to finally confess the depths of his love for his dearest, dearest friend. If it made him less of a man, or even a person of dignity, ultimately it didn't matter. To keep his heart closed to it, to hide it any longer, would have slowly destroyed him.

And unbelievably - his feelings were reciprocated. Wholeheartedly, genuinely, and for a period of time that Roy had been foolish to blind himself to. The love of his life loved him back, and nothing had made him happier than in those moments when they finally consummated the years of tension and affection between them, and promised to never again be apart.

And with the blessings of a mutual friend just as dear, and their renewed devotion to each other, they could all face the danger of the previous years together.

Roy eases out of his own thoughts as he listens to the quiet breathing of another body next to him - and he turns to see the aforementioned dear friend and dearest love, Maes Hughes, lying next to him in their bed.

To his mild surprise, Maes is also awake. His usually-slick hair now a messy, unkempt mop on his head, his bare, glasses-less green eyes squinting at him. It's unfair that he's still attractive like this.

"Mornin'," he says, smiling warmly.

Roy gives him one of his many incredulous smirks. "Awake too, huh? Why didn't you say anything?"

Maes shrugs, then reaches up with a hand to brush at Roy's hair with his fingers. "I like watching you wake up. You're cute."

"No I'm not," Roy growls, but there's no real bite to it, and he's trying and failing to bite back a smile at Maes' touch. "I'm smart, charming, suave, sometimes irresistible- but I am not cute."

"Wrong. You're adorable," Maes says matter-of-factly, and he leans forward to peck him on the forehead, as if he were a precocious little child.

Roy grumbles again, frustrated both by the gentle contact and being momentarily unable to think of another retort - instead, he decides to enact his revenge by reaching up, wrapping an arm around Maes' shoulders, and gently, but assertively, pulling their mouths together for a kiss.

Maes is the one to growl a little now, and returns the gesture with affectionate lips and tongue. He's strong and hearty beneath Roy's touch, in good health save for a few new scars across his torso, some aches and pains he'll complain about sometimes. But he's allowed to - it's not every day one faces undead, unkillable homonculi and lives to tell the tale. The same went for Roy - he has his own share of injuries, resulting in several new scars and a small limp in his step, but between the two of them things could be much worse.

Eventually they are sated with their kissing, for the moment, and the two pull away to gaze at each other warmly.

"So- how you feeling?" Maes asks.

Roy blinks at him. "About what?"

"I mean- you know, in general. Still don't feel any different?"

"Oh. Mm... I don't know," Roy murmurs, searching the ceiling with his eyes. "But I do feel a little weird in the stomach, as I think about it..."

Maes' eyebrows lift up significantly. "Oh ho- stomach, huh? I think we know what's coming, then," he says, with a maddeningly knowing tone and even more maddening smile.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Ugh- I'm really not looking forward to that."

Maes just snorts. "You signed up for it, hun."

"I know," Roy says with a deflating sigh.

"You'll be fine, darling, it's only for a few months," Maes says. "...And I promise, I'll be right there keeping the hair out of your eyes when you're barfing your guts into the toilet."

"My hero ," Roy drawls with sarcasm, snickering lightly.

Maes snorts again, then rolls forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to do stuff like that."

Roy smiles, but there's something wavering in his dark eyes, a bit of sadness in his tone. "Ah, Maes- if only that were true in the records..."

Maes is crestfallen for a moment, reminded that in the eyes of the Amestrian law, their recent betrothal was bare-bones at most - a loophole in the civil partnership clauses, really - and kept tightly secretive from anyone who wasn't a friend or accomplice. A proper marriage between men like themselves simply wasn't possible (yet) - much less a second marriage to give an already-taken man another partner.

But the moment passes, and Maes reaches forward and takes Roy's hands in his, considers the second ring on his finger - a brilliant silver-white band, complementing Gracia's gold one and matching Roy's own.

He intertwines their fingers, and kisses lightly at Roy's knuckles. "Someday, darling, someday. Things'll change. But even if it doesn't, as far as I'm concerned I'm yours forever, and you are mine, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Gracia and you both."

Roy just looks at him the whole time, looks with eyes soft with love and affection, and a smile just as warm.

- And that smile falters slightly as Maes lids his eyes and tugs his smile into another knowing smirk. "...Besides, since when did you start caring about the legality of a situation?"

Roy blinks, looking adorably bewildered as he searches the ceiling for an answer. "Er- When it involves the man I love?"

Maes' eyes crinkle, and he releases their hands to wrap an arm around Roy's shoulders and draw him in to laugh into his neck. "That's a shitty answer."

"I know," Roy says, snorting softly.

They cuddle together 'till the laughter dies down, and Maes proceeds to kiss Roy again, now along his neck and collarbones, working steadily down towards his chest. He nuzzles his face into the dip between his pectorals, presses his lips against the variety of scars there, surgical and otherwise. Roy sighs with contentment, petting at Maes' hair and squirming slightly when a ticklish area is touched.

Maes moves down further, trailing kisses until he's reached Roy's belly button, where his stomach is still flat and toned - but there's a bit more softness to it than usual, at least to Maes' senses. Which are, admittedly, fairly clouded with excitement due to recent developments.

He hums into his Roy's skin. "Mm. You feel softer already."

Roy snorts against him. "Bullshit."

Ignoring that, Maes keeps humming as he nuzzles at his stomach, his voice rising into a recognizable melody - a children's lullaby, one he often sang to Elicia when she was smaller and more frightened of the night.

Roy snorts again. "They can't hear you, you idiot- Gracia said it's barely the size of a pea by now, there's no organs yet."

"You can never start too early," Maes sing-songs, his lips tickling the skin of Roy's belly.

Roy suppresses his laughter. "Start what? Inducting them into appreciating your terrible singing voice?"

"Oh c'mon, I'm not that bad," Maes grumbles, drawing away to frown at him. "Honestly, I feel sorrier about them listening to you for the next eight months."

"Shut up," Roy laughs, and lightly shoves at Maes' shoulders to get him off him. Maes, being the larger and broader man, responds with a playful growl and a lunge, trapping Roy in a bear-hug in which he is helpless to a barrage of kisses against every part of his face. Knowing better than anyone when he's strategically out of his depth, Roy surrenders to being nothing more than a giggling mess in Maes' arms.

Suddenly there's a shuffle of footsteps, a creak of the bedroom door, and the voice of a four-year-old girl cuts through their rough-housing.

"Daddy! Stop it! You're gonna squish the baby!" Elicia cries out, a little arm stretched precariously up to the doorknob, her other arm pointing accusingly at her father.

"And Mommy says to wake up, breakfast is almost ready!" she adds, the original intent of her interruption.

Roy and Maes stare at her - then at each other - before Maes throws back his head in laughter.

"I am not squishing your other dad, honey," Maes wheezes, "I'm keeping him nice and warm, see?" He demonstrates with a much gentler version of his previous bear-hug, enveloping Roy into his warmth. Roy himself merely smiles with bemusement, and enjoys the attention.

Elicia sticks out her tongue in disgust, at both her father's blatant affections and complete disregard for her concerns. "Then put another blanket on him! If you squish my baby sister I won't ever forgive you, Daddy!"

Maes laughs again, but relents this time, releasing Roy and sitting up from their bed. "Alright, alright, honey- I'm sorry. Tell Mommy I'll be up in a minute. Does she need any help?"

"Nope! You burn things!" Elicia exclaims, hilariously irreverent, and she turns and darts back into the hallway, haphazardly closing the door behind her.

Maes rolls his eyes - "No respect, even from my own offspring," he mutters under his breath - as he rolls himself up and out of bed, and makes his way towards the dresser to prepare for the day.

He stops midway to circle around to Roy's side and give him another quick peck on the forehead. "You heard the little lady - time to get up. We've got that thing to get to, after all."

"Of course, " Roy sighs despondently, wishing he could spend another hour or so basking in the heat of Maes' body and bedsheets instead. But the day must begin eventually, and he follows Maes' example and rolls himself in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up.

---

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a delicious breakfast courtesy of Gracia's fine cooking, Roy returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth and apply the rest of his usual toiletries in preparation for the outing this afternoon.

He was looking forward to it - it's a clear, sunny day of the weekend, and so, members of his and Maes' former squadrons have planned a get-together on the outskirts of Central, in a park popular for such gatherings, per Havoc's recommendation. ("It's perfect for families," he'd said. "Or at least mine - my folks n' I went there all the time.")

It's far from the first time they've held such gatherings together since he and Maes retired, and it certainly won't be the last - they're opportunities for their still-military-bound colleagues to unwind from their stresses, discreet exchanges of updates and information, and of course, quality time to spend with good friends.

Roy's mind wanders as he continues his routine - he wonders what bitter complaints Riza will no doubt bring up, seeing as she’s stuck helping navigate the massive power vacuum in Central as it’s officials scramble to appoint a new Führer - when a strange feeling jerks him out of his thoughts suddenly.

There is an odd, twisting sensation in his belly - the "weird feeling" he'd mentioned to Maes earlier, but it was more intense now. Not incredibly so, but certainly more noticeable. Roy quietly ignores it for now, praying it won't get any worse as he continues with the gelling and smoothing of his hair and light application of face-powder.

But, of course, minutes later his stomach is slowly churning, definitely turning nauseous now, and Roy rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs again. He's not sure what's more disappointing - that Maes was right after all, or that he'll be throwing up most of Gracia's wonderful meal.

Instead, Roy decides to prepare for the inevitable - he washes the gel out of his hair and powder off his face, lifts the toilet seat, and calls into the bedroom:

"Maes? Come here a moment - it looks like I'll need your hair-lifting services after all."

"I told you," Maes calls back.

"Just get in here."

---

An hour or so later, Roy has recovered from his nausea enough for their little family to be well on their way to the hangout - namely, through one of Gracia's odd variety of home remedies. This time it consisted of making Roy suck on a slice of lemon, claiming that its sour, citrus-filled scents and flavors were a natural counter to nausea. Despite his reservations (and intense dislike of said flavors), the remedy worked, and his stomach has settled (for now).

That still didn't stop him from complaining about it through most of the drive.

"-Still, of all the days for it to start ," he groans from the backseat. "I'll be spending the whole time refusing everyone's food and drinking nothing but fruit juice, I just know it."

Gracia, sitting next to him, has been comforting him with a hand rubbing his shoulder. "You should be fine, dear, it's been a while already... but if you start feeling queasy again, just stick to small things, like crackers. You know, nothing heavy on the stomach. Besides, if worse comes to worse, I brought more lemons."

Roy only groans again, rolling his eyes this time. "Everyone's already getting suspicious of me after quitting alcohol, cold turkey, without even an announcement - and now, nibbling on crackers and lemons for my stomach? I may as well wear a damn sign on my head."

Maes, in the driver's seat, glances back at them with a frown. "And what's so bad about that? You're gonna have to tell them eventually , Roy, it's been a month already. If you wait any longer, well-"

Roy cuts him off, anxiety filling his tone. "You know why I can't tell them yet, Maes, not until we know for sure- wait, what's that?"

He cuts himself off because at this point they've entered the park at Central's outskirts - a lovely, well-kept swathe of grass and trees within sight of its eastern river, dotted with tents, benches, playgrounds, and other recreational structures. But what's strange is that, in the distance, one can see a particular group of benches that's decorated with flower bouquets, bunches of balloons, and strings of ribbons, all in pastel colors of blue, pink and white. The people setting up these decorations, along with various food and drinks, are hard to make out at this distance - but they appear to be their friends and ex-coworkers, all in casual wear.

Maes makes a curious "Huh," sound at this, and makes another, more worried sound as they pull into a nearby parking space and see more clearly that the distant human figures are definitely their friends (Major Armstrong's massive frame is unmistakable at any distance).

"It's a party now? What's the occasion?" Roy asks out loud. "It's not a holiday today, is it?"

"Not that I know of," Gracia says. "The colors look like something for Children's Day... but that was a month ago, wasn't it?"

Maes glances nervously between his partners and the apparent celebration, chewing his lower lip. "Uh- yeah, yeah, pretty sure. I, uh- I dunno, hun."

In the meantime, Elicia, who had been spending most of the drive quietly busying herself with her favorite doll's hair and dresses in the passenger seat, has tossed it aside in favor of bouncing in her seat at the mention of a party. "Party! A party!" she cries, clapping her hands. "I wanna go! I wanna go! Can I go to the party please, mommydaddy?"

Maes shushes her with promises of yes, she will be going, right now in fact, as he carefully unclips her seatbelt and helps her out of the car as everyone else steps out.

As the family approaches the party area, sunlight glints off a pair of large glasses on the distant face of Kain Fuery, and when he notices them, he waves a greeting with an exuberant wave of his arm. Then he turns to the others and distantly calls, "Hey! Looks like the guests of honor finally arrived!"

The others turn to him, then to Roy and the Hughes', and break out into excited waves, hellos, and even a little applause. Fuery, meanwhile, jogs down the small slope between them to take Roy's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, giving him a beaming smile. "Ah - salutations and congratulations, sir! We're all very happy for you and the good news!" he exclaims.

Roy hardly has time to wonder at all this strangeness going on, for as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds that he can hardly get a word in edgewise as his other former squad-mates approach him with the same boisterous congratulations.

Havoc (who Roy briefly realizes he might need to either put distance from, or ask him to put out his cigarettes around him for his health), runs up and claps a hand to his shoulder, all but shouting, "Mustang! You old so-and-so, I didn't think you had it in ya! Congrats, man!"

Breda flashes a cheeky grin from behind Havoc's shoulder. "Good luck with the new additions," he chuckles. "You'll need it."

Meanwhile Falman approaches from behind, somewhat cautiously, as he often is in social situations. But he seems nonetheless chipper as he claps quietly, saying, "Wonderful news, Colonel, congratulations." The addressing of Roy's military title was a habit he still had to break.

And bringing up the very rear was Riza, a bit hampered by her dog, Black Hayate, attempting to entrap her legs with his leash in his excitement. But she still offers a warm smile in his direction as she makes her way down the slope.

Maes' friends, consisting of Major Armstrong, Maria, Denny, and Sheska, also swarm him and Gracia with the same amount of bewildering praise and applause, and the same greetings of "congratulations" and "great news" (and Armstrong nearly crushing Maes' bones with one of his hugs, again).

All the while, little Elicia claps her hands in a mimic of Falman and intensifies her bouncing, singing "congratulations" right along with everyone else.

Between Roy's sputtering and Maes' breathlessness, Gracia was the one to finally get in the burning question - she spreads her hands, gestures in a shushing motion, and raises her voice in a tone not unlike one she'd have used in her days as a librarian.

"Hey- excuse me, everyone- what's all this about?"

At that, everyone quiets, their greetings devolving into confused noises and stares. For a moment, an awkward silence falls, but its quickly broken by a nervous, mousey Sheska. "Well, you know- you said you were, um- expecting again, with Mr. Mustang, sir," she says, addressing Maes. "At least, you told me over the phone that time. You seemed so excited, so I thought it was only fair to-"

"-Y-you what?!" Roy blurts out.

"Uh, yeah," Denny Brosh chimes in, "she told me when we were drinking last weekend, so of course, I told Maria-"

"-And since they knew, it seemed only fair to tell the Major," Maria continues;

Armstrong, smiling merrily through his mustache despite the confusion in his eyes, says "-And I was so moved by the blessed news, I simply had to tell your former squadron, Mustang sir. They seemed to know already, informing me of your behavior as of late;"

And Havoc, quirking his mouth around his cigarette, finishes with a shrug. "-So we decided to turn this hangout into an early baby shower for you guys to save you the trouble. I did say this place was great for families, after all."

If Roy could see himself in these moments, he'd be amused at how quickly the color drained from his face, then returned tenfold and turned his face and neck a bright scarlet color. By the time Havoc finishes his last sentence, he's covering his face with both hands and wishing he had his ignition gloves on hand in order to obliterate his own existence - but of course, that wouldn't be fair to his unborn child, so perhaps a better target would be his damnably excitable, loose-lipped husband.

He loosens his grip on his own face to better see said husband, who is now also sporting a deeply flushed complexion, scrubbing at his neck and avoiding eye contact with everyone except Roy himself - a mistake.

As soon as they lock eyes, Roy's shame boils over into an unbridled rage, and he brings down his hands, clenches them into fists, and proceeds to wave them erratically while shouting obscenities at Maes.

"Goddammit Maes, you goddamn big-mouthed idiot ! I told you not to say anything! Now everyone knows and we have all this bullshit when we don't even know if it'll even-!"

Maes spreads his hands in surrender and shrinks away from his incensed partner, spluttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Okay okay, I got excited and let it slip to Sheska, and maybe one or two others, but I swear that's all-"

Quickly, Gracia gets between them to play peacemaker, attempting to seize Roy by the shoulders and saying "Roy, stop, please, it's alright-"

Thankfully, the mood passes. As soon as she lays hands upon Roy, a pallor passes over his face, and he grows pale again - then he keels over and starts dry heaving, his nausea returning with a vengeance.

The others can only look on with equal parts worry and amusement as the Hughes family tends to their newest and oddest member(s) - Gracia supporting Roy as he wobbles on his feet, Maes offering apologetic hugs and forehead-kisses, and Elicia looking upon the whole scene with the most amusing look of confusion a four-year-old could wear.

Riza, having finally given up on making Hayate stop squirming and barking at all the excitement, rolls her eyes and sighs deeply behind Havoc and the others.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she grumbles.

---

But the party wasn't a bad idea after all - after the initial misunderstanding, Roy calmed down from his nausea and somewhat-violent mood swing, and everyone was readily understanding, considering his condition. The party was enjoyably smooth afterwards.

True to his fears, Roy did end up consuming mostly crackers and more lemon slices, broken up by the occasions he was brave (and hungry) enough to eat more. But he did avoid actually-heaving, so it was a victory overall.

Besides refreshments, their friends also brought gifts, ranging from congratulatory cards to supplies for the new family member - mostly diapers and cleaning supplies, safe options and arguably, the most useful. No clothes except for a pair of tiny, white-ribboned shoes from Armstrong - purchased from a clothier who has provided high-quality infant clothing to the Armstrong family for generations, he claimed - and as Roy held the tiny articles in his hands, he found himself fighting an onrush of tears at the idea of the tiny person who would be filling them someday soon; then proceeded to angrily deny the redness in his eyes, curse at his hormones, then at Maes for cooing over him and attempting to calm him with more hugs and kisses.

As evening approaches and the small party winds down, Roy finds himself pretty much spent on the social side of things. After making this known, his friends and partners courteously allow him some needed time alone, which he spends sitting at a bench slightly apart from the others, pecking at leftover food scraps, as his stomach's settled again.

"Roy," the voice of Riza says softly as she approaches, and he turns to her with a smile. Close friends since teenhood, he's never minded her presence even when his energies were spent, and he nods for her to sit beside him.

"I tied up Hayate by the tent poles," she says as she settles in. "Looks like Elicia finally tired him out." She jerks her chin towards the black-and-white-furred dog flopped on the grass near the pole he was tied to.

"And likewise for her," Roy adds with a chuckle, nodding towards a bench nearby, where a content Gracia gently rocks her daughter's exhausted form in her lap.

Riza smiles warmly at the scene. "Aw- so sweet. Hard to believe that'll be you too, months from now."

Her smile takes on a mischievous slant as she turns it back on Roy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. "Or maybe not. You seem to have that 'motherly glow' already."

Roy scoffs loudly. "Oh, don't you start too- I get enough of that crap from Maes as it is. Besides, that's a myth anyway - your skin might change color in some areas, but it doesn't glow ."

Riza doesn't laugh much, not outwardly - but you can see it in her eyes, clear as day, if you know what to look for. Which Roy does - and it always annoys him.

"Probably, yeah," she replies. "But you do seem happier."

"I am," Roy says, pursing his lips, then bothering the bottom one with his teeth for a moment. "And, honestly... kind of terrified?"

He phrases it like an unsure question to take the edge off - he isn't sure why, he should know by know that Riza can always see through his bluffs, and always has over the years. And it's been equal parts annoying and comforting, because on the one hand, nothing gets past her, but on the other, there is no one better than her to divulge one's honest insecurities. Especially ones that he hasn't admitted to any of his other friends at this party.

So Roy can only blame his own niggling demons of anxiety for trying to mask this admission at the last moment.

Familiarly, and thankfully, Riza just looks at him, nodding. "That's understandable," she says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I'm sure it is," Roy stammers, trying to spill himself freely in her understanding presence. "It's a lot to- you know- it's just so much . Between the pregnancy and the birth, that'll be hard enough, and not just physically. And then with everything afterwards- I mean, it's a whole person , Riza-

He takes a breath in response to a pleading look in Riza's eyes, one she often uses to silently tell him, Please, sir, try to breathe.

A little more centered, he continues. "I just- I've never done this before. And... to be honest, I never thought I would . I've never really thought of myself as a parent before. I mean- let's be honest, I haven't made the best decisions with children lately..."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his nervous heart pounding in his chest. But Riza only nods slowly, considering him and his words.

"True enough," she says finally. "But things were different then- and those boys were an exceptional case, one that wasn't always in your control. In the end, I think they made their own decisions... I wish you wouldn't blame yourself so much for them."

Roy only sighs despondently. It's something he's heard before, from multiple people - a nice reminder, but it seemed there would always be a part of him that would blame himself for what happened to the Elric brothers (among many, many other things).

Riza meets his eyes. "Honestly, I think you'll be just fine, Roy. You've changed. You might not have noticed it, but I have."

Roy suppresses the temptation to laugh at that, since she's being sincere. "Really. How?"

Riza cocks her head slightly, searches the surrounding grass for words. "You are... kinder," she says. "More gentle, more selfless. Which only makes sense, I suppose - in giving up your ambition, you let go of some of your selfishness, in a way."

She meets his eyes again. "But I think the fact that you even agreed to this, and decided to see it through, is what really shows who you are now. The Roy that I knew only a few years ago would never do this."

At this point Roy is flushing nearly to his neck again, staring down into his lap and trying vainly to do something with his hands. "You- You flatter me too much, Lieutenant."

He can practically hear the cheeky smile in her voice. "I only speak the truth, sir."

Roy scratches idly at his neck before finally deigning to look at her again. And she is smiling, but its less cheeky than he imagined. It's equal parts sincerity and amusement, and she brings it closer as she moves to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you mess up, you have not one, but two partners by your side - loving, protective, and already experienced in child-rearing. Between the three of you, the baby will want for nothing."

And now she's all sincerity, almost beaming at him. She leans further and offers him her other arm in a rare gesture, coming from her - a hug. Which Roy welcomes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and welcoming her warmth against his. Riza isn't the sort of person to give physical affection very often, if at all, so when she does it's for something she deeply, deeply cares about.

He has to fight back an urge to cry, again - and again blames it on his rampant hormones, damn them.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "After losing so much, starting from nothing- and now, you have a family."

Roy blinks away the wetness from his eyes, wipes them with one hand. "Well, so do you- I mean, you've come far as well, Riza."

And she has - she was, like him, a fellow orphan of Amestris’ constant warring. However, she was courageous enough to forge a new name for herself and her future, distancing herself from what little family she had left when they ultimately proved to be cold and uncaring. In some ways, she is far braver than him - so Roy never minces his words about her.

She brushes at her bangs with one hand, slightly flustered. "I guess so- I'm happy too, work troubles notwithstanding. I do have my work cut out for me, after everything's that's happened."

"You have support too," Roy assures her. "And mine as well, even if I can't be there leading the charge anymore. You'll be fine - both of us will."

"Here's hoping," Riza says, smiling warmly.

---

Months pass, and the blooming Spring mellows out into a lazy Summer around Central. The flowers fade, the grass dries, and Roy no longer complains of nausea - now he gripes about his weight as he slowly grows rounder.

His fairly-toned physique from years of military training had already started smoothing out since his retirement, but the pregnancy only hastens this process - at this point, he's outgrown most of his dress pants and shirts and has surrendered himself to wearing mostly loose shirts and casual short pants. Maes and Gracia have no qualms with these new developments.

Despite his anxieties, Roy's progress is smooth, according to Gracia, their books on the subject, and the specialist he's hired for this occasion - they came with high marks after overseeing his chest surgery and successfully keeping it under wraps. And if all goes well, they'll be overseeing his delivery soon.

One morning is particularly warm, and Roy trudges into the kitchen, already tired and sweating - it is entirely the worst time of year to be hormonal and gaining weight. As he opens the fridge to search its contents, he’s tempted to stay there just to bask in its cool air for a minute longer - and to look for something cold and sweet to sate his hunger.

“If you’re looking for more cookie dough, don’t bother,” Gracia’s voice pipes up from across the room, startling him slightly. “I’m not making any more.”

Roy plays off his flinching by smoothing his hair and forcing a chuckle. “Ah- I was not doing that, actually, just cooling myself off a bit,” he says, which was partly true, so it definitely wasn’t a lie. “But, uh- no cookies today, Gracia? Why?”

Gracia, making breakfast at the kitchen stove as usual, rolls her eyes at him. “Because a certain someone nibbled at the dough so much throughout the day that when I finally baked them, at least a third of it was already gone. And even after the cookies were done, someone ate so much of them there wasn’t nearly enough to last everyone for the month. Elicia was looking forward to having dessert every night instead of, you know- only two or three.”

Roy stares, gaping dumbly at her for a moment - then snaps his mouth shut into a frown, huffing softly. “Well- that wasn’t entirely my fault. If it weren’t for the baby giving me these damn cravings-”

“You’ve had a sweet tooth for as long as I can remember, Roy, don’t blame the baby for that,” Gracia tuts at him. “You’re just using them as an excuse to give up your self-control.”

“I- Well- Ugh. Fine, I’m sorry,” Roy relents, ears burning with shame at this point. Not for the first or last time, he wonders why he insists on surrounding himself with people who had a penchant for seeing through his bullshit.

Gracia laughs brightly, finishing off the last of her cooking and turning off the stove. “Don’t apologize to me,” she says smugly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Apologize to your future self when you’re spending twelve hours in labor to deliver our child.”

Roy’s mouth drops open. “Twelve hours ?”

“That’s what happened to one of my old coworkers,” Gracia says, nodding grimly. “Too much ice cream, too small in the hips. They had to open her up to deliver her son - and no surprise, he turned in at nearly eleven pounds at birth. And his mother never did lose all the weight she gained.”

Roy swallows nervously, feeling a chill up his spine - then remembers he’s still standing in front of the open fridge. Feeling plenty cold enough, he carefully closes its doors. “That’s, uh- that’s rough.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Gracia chuckles, and she straightens and turns to pour herself some coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’ve heard so many horror stories, you wouldn’t believe it - bearing children is very difficult. A lot can go wrong, and badly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Roy mutters, recounting articles he’s glanced over in the newspapers, about mothers losing their lives in the effort to bear their children; babies born with terrible illnesses or deformities that claim their lives before they’ve even lived a year, or leave them crippled for a lifetime; countless tragedies that leave orphans, widowers, and other such suffering in their wake. To say he was anxious about his own child’s birth was an understatement.

He glances nervously at the small curve of his stomach as he moves to sit at the kitchen table, sighs harshly and runs a hand through his hair again.

Gracia hums sadly across the way, and after an awkward silence, she joins him at the table while setting down their plates of breakfast. Roy looks at it, but does not feel hungry anymore.

“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Gracia says, still crestfallen in her tone. “But then you have a newborn on your hands - totally helpless, completely dependent on you. Your whole schedule revolves around them, which usually means you’re alternating between sleeping or staying awake for two hours at a time. And that lasts for a year, at least.”

She smiles a little, plucking herself up. “But then they start getting a personality - it’s so fun, watching that develop. And then they’re walking and talking - of course, that’s the toddler years. You’ve seen some of that already.” She chuckles at this last part.

“I do,” Roy says tiredly, now recalling the evenings he’d spent babysitting a smaller, more hyperactive Elicia in the years before he married Maes. In his misguided, pining state, he probably thought he could win favor by looking after his daughter - and this partly worked, as it led to a closer friendship with Gracia, tearing down the awkward walls between them.

He bows his head and sighs again. “Ah, Gracey- if I didn’t know better, I'd wonder if all this was even worth it."

Gracia chuckles again. "Well, you are bringing a whole human being into the world. Then raising them as your own, giving them the best possible start towards their future- Of course there's going to be prices to pay for that sort of thing."

When he looks up, she’s twirling her fork at him, wearing a wry smile. "Didn't you Alchemists have a rule about that? ‘Equivalent exchange,’ right?"

She lowers the fork to rest her chin on her knuckles. "It's kinda like that - this is our version of Alchemy, in a way."

Roy stares at her for a long moment - then crumples into a long and loud fit of laughter.

"Ah, Gracey," he says as he comes down from it. "You're so much better than any Alchemist."

Gracia laughs too, at that - then suddenly leans over to peck him on his cheek. "So are you, dear."

The affection catches Roy off-guard, a bit, and he spends a few moments blinking dumbly. He opens and closes his mouth to retort, but when nothing comes to him, he grumbles, and busies himself with poking at his breakfast. "Hmph."

---

Roy still suffers the occasional mood swings as he progresses, which is normal, according to Gracia and the doctor.

But what isn't normal is how deeply, deeply low Roy's mood becomes at times - when his movements become sluggish, his appetite diminishes, and he no longer finds joy or laughter in much of anything. At his absolute worst, he spends one morning unable to get out of bed at all - and both his partners know this can't entirely be blamed on the pregnancy.

"Dear, please," Gracia says softly, kneeling by Roy's bedside, gently brushing his mussed hair out of his eyes. His plate of breakfast sits on the nearby nightstand, untouched. "You need to eat, now more than ever."

"I know," Roy mutters, but he doesn't move, still curled within his bedsheets with his face half-buried into his pillow. His eyes are red and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"At least a few bites, or a nibble," Maes murmurs at his other side, his form curled around Roy's own, hugging him from the back, his face nuzzling his husband's ear. "You need it. So does the baby."

"I know," Roy repeats, but again he makes no move to obey them.

"Darling," Maes kisses into his hair, "Please. Try."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, but he says nothing and still doesn't move.

Gracia keeps gently stroking his cheek. "At least say something," she pleads. "Tell us what's wrong. We're here, we'll listen."

Roy's breathing becomes erratic for a few moments, as if pushing back a quiet sob. But eventually he settles and opens his eyes, seeming to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

He chokes out, "What... did I do... to deserve this?"

"Deserve what?" Maes asks.

"All of this," Roy says, voice watery. "You, and Elicia, and the baby- how..." He swallows, and clears his throat. "...How can I bring life into this world when I've brought nothing but death?"

Gracia and Maes exchange glances, understanding. Gracia less so, but she is very familiar with the look of helplessness that again crosses her husband's features, the look that Maes gives when he remembers that Roy went to Ishval and he did not, and he will always, always be sorry about it. That he couldn't be there to stand by Roy's side, to share in its horrors, its suffering, and all he could do ever afterwards was try to put him back together with kind words, soft smiles, slices of Gracia's homemade pies.

It wasn't enough - never enough - but it was something , and it helped.

So again, Maes blinks back his tears, then adjusts himself so he can wrap his arms around Roy's shoulders and take his hands in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them down to touch the small dome of Roy's belly.

"You saved my life, darling. Multiple times. That's not nothing," he says, kissing into the crook of Roy's neck. "You've saved all of us - our friends, our family, even the whole nation."

Roy squeezes his eyes closed again. "But, Edward-"

"That wasn't your fault, dear," Gracia interrupts, her hand joining Maes' and Roy's. "Whatever happened down there, that was his battle, not yours. He's strong - wherever he is, I'm sure he's doing just fine."

"Yeah," Maes agrees. "We have to believe that... He'd hate for us to worry over him anyway. You know him," he adds, forcing a chuckle.

Roy sighs, but he nestles a little within Maes' hold. "Mm. I wish I could... Believe, that is. In anything."

"...What about our child?" Maes asks, his hand at Roy's stomach rubbing gently. "You can believe in them. They'll be here soon, after all."

Roy's eyes lose focus, and he exhales again. "Ah, even then- I'm still... scared they might not."

Gracia starts, her face pinching with worry. "Dear, please, don't even think of it. You're doing so well, even more than the doctor predicted- please, don't risk it all by worrying needlessly. Don't-"

She takes a breath, bows her head slightly. "Don't be like me."

Maes makes a strained sound. "Honey-"

"It's fine." Gracia flashes a small smile in Maes' direction, then turns it toward Roy, who still stares out at nothing in particular.

"Roy," she says. "You remember before I had Elicia, don't you?"

"Mm." Roy makes a noncommittal noise. He must remember those times, but he makes no effort to make it obvious, so Gracia sighs and decides to remind him.

"We miscarried so much," she continues, exchanging soft glances with Maes. "The doctors never could find out what was wrong with me. It was awful - and neither of us breathed a word to anyone, we were so ashamed. At least, I was."

She squeezes Roy's hand in her own. "We only told you after you found me crying after dinner, that day. I thought I was broken, and worthless, and all these terrible things - and that only made it worse. I was my own self-fulfilling prophecy."

She bows her head and leans in, planting a kiss on Roy's knuckles, near his stomach. When she looks up again, his eyes are looking intently at her, soft with pain and sympathy. He does remember.

"Without you and Maes, Elicia wouldn't even be here," Gracia says. "And she'll always be my little miracle, but I can't put myself through that again. You'll never know how truly, truly grateful I am for you doing this for us, Roy. For our family."

When she meets Roy's eyes again, they're wet with tears on the verge of spilling. This time she leans over to kiss his cheek, and wipes away the wetness with her thumb.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Maes says behind him. "All of us are. Even Elicia - she's so ready to be a big sister. It's kind of funny, actually - she acts like she'll be ten years older instead of four."

"God, she does," Gracia says, chuckling softly. "All she talks about lately is all the toys and clothes she's going to share with her 'little sister,' and all the food she's going to make for her. She keeps asking me to show her how to cook dinner now - and she can't even reach the stovetop without standing on a chair."

Maes snorts with laughter. "God, that's adorable - how is she doing by the way, cooking-wise?"

Gracia levels a knowing smirk at him. "Well, she's a step up from you, Mister Water-Burner."

"Oh, ouch- ouch . You're so cruel, honey," Maes whines, feigning hurt.

Gracia laughs harder now, shaking her head. "Cruel? I've been trying to show you how to cook for years , but when you're not making jokes out of everything, you're turning it into something not even dogs would eat. It's pretty sad when a toddler's a better student than you."

Maes laughs, hard, dropping his forehead against Roy's back until he composes himself. "Oh Gracey, you're so mean ," he drawls out. "That's it, I'm only sleeping with Roy from now on. He wouldn't make hurtful jokes about his poor husband's cooking skills. Isn't that right, darling?"

Roy doesn't appear to respond for a moment - but listening carefully, one can hear erratic breaths and a slight shifting of fabric, and his shoulders and chest tremble within the blankets and Maes' arms. But there are no tears - Roy is quietly snorting into his pillow and suppressing soft laughter.

"Hey- are you laughing ?" Maes exclaims. Roy tenses within his grip, now squeezing his eyes to suppress a grin threatening to break out on his face.

"You're laughing, aren't you. I can't believe this. Both my wife and husband, laughing at my expense," Maes says, withering into laughter. Gracia does the same, and Roy's resolve crumbles, and it isn't long before all three of them have devolved into a shared laughing fit.

The mood was lighter, and it was warmly welcomed.

And later on, after more lighthearted conversation and gentle encouragement, Roy's depression lightened to the point he could sit up and eat a slice of toast and spoonfuls of porridge without much issue. He still stayed in bed most of the day, and only ate a bit more as it went on, but by the evening his body's needs began to outweigh his lack of appetite and he ate ravenously of his dinner, and he could sleep soundly through most of the night.

He improved slowly - at least, his mood didn't often dip into such a low point after that, but when it did, Maes and Gracia were once again there to hold him and remind him how much he was loved, and loved others in turn.

...Or to make more jokes at Maes' expense. Those helped too.

---

Fall is here; the greens and yellows of Summer have faded into shades of red, gold and brown, the leaves of trees darken and cover the ground, and the air grows colder.

Roy's moods have improved, along with his health, and now his child's movements can be felt within him. At first, it was strange and exciting - there are few words he can find to express how simultaneously incredible and incredibly weird it is to feel a tiny person moving around inside him.

By now, the novelty has worn off - Roy could swear that the child shifts only in ways to spite him, pressing up into his lungs when he's trying to eat, or down onto his bladder when he lays down for the night, and he ends up struggling against his own unwieldy body to get up and use the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Or, usually, they just kick him constantly. At this point he's welcomed Maes' attempts to sing lullabies to their unborn child to soothe them. It actually seems to work, sometimes.

Between all this, even more egregious weight issues, and his ever-rounder appearance, no one blames him for his complaining now. Maes and Gracia offer as much comfort as they can, like taking turns offering him massages every evening, especially for his sore feet.

At least one positive is that the colder weather means he can sequester himself in large, billowing sweaters and pants, offering much in comfort and hiding his un-flattering figure.

Elicia, however, delights in these developments, as it proves that the reality of her becoming a big sister is drawing ever closer. She often puts her hands to Roy's stomach to feel its movements, and keeps asking him and everyone else when the baby will arrive.

One morning, Gracia, after making some calculations, says the delivery should occur right in the middle of winter - "Right around the Winter Solstice, actually," she says, jabbing her pen at the day marked on the kitchen's calendar. "Could even be the day of- that'll be interesting," she chuckles.

Maes scratches at his chin. "Well- shit. We'll be with your folks all week to celebrate... We really should have planned this better, hun," he says, directing this last statement at Roy.

Roy, seated at a nearby table with his chin balanced on one hand, rolls his eyes at his husband. "Don't look at me- You're the one who decided knocking me up in Spring instead of Winter was a good idea. It's usually the other way around, you know."

Maes turns several shades of scarlet at this and starts spluttering. "I- Well- Y-you agreed to it!"

"I did," Roy sighs long-sufferingly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to ease his sore back a little.

Gracia giggles at the two of them. "Oh well," she says. "It's fine, really. I'd rather it happen with more people around anyway. Feels safer."

"True, but- what're we gonna do for the kid's birthdays?" Maes wonders aloud. "They're going to live the rest of their life being forgotten. I had a coworker like that, y'know- poor girl was born on Couples' Day, so people either didn't believe her, or treated all the cheap chocolates as her birthday presents. Terrible."

"Yes, the poor thing," Gracia says, shaking her head. "But I think this is different - city-folk don't really celebrate the Solstices anymore, so maybe they'll end up getting birthday presents from their city friends, and Yule presents from the family."

Maes rolls his eyes. "So they'll be spoiled rotten instead. Great."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Roy says, grinning.

"You be quiet," Maes tuts at him. "I thought you were an orphan , you hypocrite. Don't you want our child to appreciate things?"

"Of course I do," Roy says, patting his stomach with an air of pride. "They're going to appreciate getting lots of money and free things every year."

Maes sighs, shaking his head. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Gracia just laughs harder.

---

Weeks later, and it is only a few days before the Winter Solstice - or Yule Time, as some people still call it, like Gracia’s family.

Roy is due any day now - and at this point he's more or less numb to the constant dysphoria, anxiety, and dozens of other unpleasant symptoms. He is very heavy, very grumpy, and just wants his child to be born so he can finally hold them in his arms and be done with this.

The family does their best to make him comfortable in these final days - which now includes Gracia's kind-hearted parents and their siblings, as they are now rooming in their family home for the holiday.

The house isn't massive, or terribly luxurious, but true to Gracia's family, it is the very picture of coziness: old rugs and paintings adorn the walls and floors, wood and earthen furniture throughout, and large, worn sofas with plenty of throw pillows and blankets.

It’s a proper abode for generations of a country-born family staying true to its roots, constructed by a patriarch of Gracia's forefathers. This is most evident in the Yule decorations that now adorn everything - the front of the house wears wreathes of pine needles and sprigs of holly on its doorways, tied together with ribbons of red, green and gold. Within the house proper are various bells, knick-knacks and decorations on the walls and furniture, wicker baskets filled with candies in the kitchen, and all sorts of pleasantly-scented candles throughout.

Everything is concentrated in the main parlor, where a small evergreen tree stands proudly in its corner, covered in the highest concentration of these decorations. More baubles, ribbons and bells; dolls and figurines made of fabric and clay; preserved pinecones, berries and flowers; garlands of tinsel and colored beads. And it's all topped off with a hand-worked, golden metal star at its tip, allegedly made by a grand-relative skilled in metalworking. It’s construction is somewhat rough, even at a glance, and makes the part of Roy that was still a haughty State Alchemist wonder why the family didn’t hire one to make the star with a much more efficient metal transmutation - the rest of him chastises himself for being so shallow. He is deeply privileged to now be a part of such a family, rich in its history and heirlooms.

Beneath the tree's branches and surrounding the large pot holding its trunk, is a pile of wrapped presents, glimmering with shiny colored paper and bows. It captures the fascination of child and grown-up alike - mostly the children. Some of the more excitable ones, like Elicia, need to be kept under close watch to ensure they don't open them ahead of time. Roy feels grateful that his child is not yet among them.

And yet, for Roy, this place inspires a strange mix of both homeliness and alienation in him - the first and last time he was here was over four years ago, on the Solstice that followed Maes and Gracia's wedding.

It was a bittersweet occasion for him, marked with equal amounts of happiness and heartache because of still-buried feelings for Maes. In the presence of his friend's family, and that of his new wife, he felt like an intruder with no business being there; his attempts at socializing were cold and aloof when he wasn't drowning his feelings with rum and hard nog. Between his awkwardness and the chaos of the past few years, he'd politely declined further invitations back here.

But things are different now. He is different - it's just as Riza said all those months ago. Roy feels more relaxed, less caged within his own defensive walls, and has been having an easier time opening up to everyone - and in turn, others open up more to him. Of course, it helps that his partnership to Maes and Gracia now makes him a more proper member of the family, but even without that difference, the overwhelmingly warm vibes here suggests they would have welcomed him just the same, even all those years ago.

(Being very heavy with child also helps - he's too exhausted to put up many walls to begin with, gets plenty of sympathy and attention from just about everyone, and can't retreat back into a bottle even if he wanted to.)

Right now, sitting with Gracia's mother and father in the parlor, wrapped in conversation, he is the very picture of comfort: wearing the loosest sweatpants and the biggest, puffiest, Yule-colored sweater Gracia could find for him, covered in large throw blankets, and sipping from a mug of warm chocolate milk in his hands.

His only source of discomfort is of course, his unborn child, who still shifts constantly - there's also an occasional, somewhat-painful pressure inside him that comes and goes, but Gracia says these 'fake' contractions are common at this stage, so he does his best to ignore it.

Sebastian, Gracia's father, leans from the sofa with his elbows on his knees, recounting tales from his past as a war journalist, when times were simpler, and war was as well. His talk of the old-fashioned photography and recording equipment they used back then would be of endless fascination to Fuery. For Roy, he appreciates the wartime experiences, and can share his own to a sympathetic ear.

Gabriella, Gracia's mother with a history as a nurse, is more concerned with baby-talk: both embarrassing stories of Gracia's early childhood, and concerns about Roy's health and that of their new step-grandchild.

“-And that’s why Amestris never tried to push its borders eastward, and thank God for that,” Sebastian is saying. “We already have our hands full with the North.”

“You can say that again,” Roy groans, recounting the almost-war with said country not long ago. It’s still a wonder that his efforts dissipated the conflict, even if it’s merely boiled down into a cold war now. “Anyway,” he continues, not wanting to dwell on the subject, “This eastern desert - what’s beyond it?”

“Eastern countries, and then the ocean, I presume,” Sebastian replies, idly scratching his beard. “They say Xing is over there too, but who knows, no one’s heard from them in decades. Probably for good reason, knowing us.”

“True,” Roy hums sadly.

“It had a name too, that desert,” Seb continues, searching the ceiling for a memory. “And a weird one - something like... Silk-sees? Serk-sees? Or was it more of a "z" sound..."

Gabriella interrupts him, one of many times already. "We get it dear, the name was weird. Say, Roy, have you all picked out a name for the baby yet?"

Roy, slightly awkward but becoming familiar with these rapid changes in subject, stutters in response. "Ah- we do, actually-"

"C'mon Gabby, what d'you take us for?" Maes cuts him off, balking. "Of course we've got names picked out. If it's a boy, Elias. If it's a girl, Eleanor. Easy."

Gabriella laughs, shaking her bobbed hair. "Easy, huh?" she teases, "Sure it's easy, when it's more "el" names. Couldn't think of anything else?"

Maes blanches at her, sputtering again. "Hey- they're nice names! It'll be cute when they match with Elicia! Gracey likes it too!"

Gracia was giggling softly. "C'mon Mom, it's Yule Time. Lay off the teasing a little, yeah?"

"Aw- But it's so easy ," Gabriella says, smirking mischievously.

Sebastian, rolling his eyes at most of the exchange, turns back to Roy. "You're the one actually having the child - did you have any names in mind, Roy?"

Roy shrugs at him, pursing his lips. "Honestly? Not really. Naming things isn't really my strong suit."

"You could've asked me," Riza suddenly pipes up, leaning above them on the sofa with her elbows on the head-cushions - she's here early on in the week to help with party preparations.

"I would have suggested some good names," she says, pouting slightly.

Roy cocks his head to look at her, giving her a stink-eye. "You named yourself after a bird of prey and your dog after a violent weather pattern. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your particular taste in names, Lieutenant."

Riza rolls her eyes. "Fair enough."

---

Another difference this year is the absence of Maes' family members - aside from one of his nicer cousins, none of the Hughes are here. There were a few phone calls giving well-wishes and happy-new-years a few weeks ago, but other than that, it's been radio silence from them.

It's fair to assume that this was foretold by a letter they received about a month prior - one that Maes frowned down at and said, "Hm. It's from my parents."

They had not heard from his parents, or most of his relatives, since Roy and Maes announced their retirement from the military and their romantic partnership thereafter (which didn't go into detail, but the fact that Roy had permanently moved into Maes' and Gracia's home should've been enough of a tip-off).

The letter spent the majority of that day laying on the kitchen counter, untouched - only towards the evening, after Gracia had retired to put Elicia to bed, did Maes finally open it.

Roy didn't get a chance to see its contents, but did witness Maes' expression darken considerably as he read it, and heard him mutter something about "lifestyle choices" and "unsightly partners" under his breath with intense disdain.

"Maes?" he'd asked him, out of concern, but his husband only spared him a glance before briskly turning and walking back into his office. Roy followed him, cautiously- and peered into the room soon enough to see him crumpling the letter into his fist, raising it to throw it into his trash can.

"Maes," he said again, softer this time. Maes lowered his arm, and turned to look at him fully - and Roy could more clearly see how his eyes burned with something cold and bitter.

Maes let out a long, angry breath through his nose, and a beat passed. "...You're lucky, in a way," he finally said. "You lost your parents before you got to know who they really were."

"Mm," Roy hummed, starting to understand this now.

Maes turned away, sighing again. "You never had to grow up and realize that you've been living with a pair of hypocrites all your life. Talking all the time about how much they loved you, how much they cared - but when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen, they pushed you away, told you to suck it up. Nothing you did was ever enough for them."

He unfurled the crumpled letter, stared at it. "I did everything they expected of me - I got good grades, I joined sports teams, I even got a girl and settled down. And I worked hard - I reached Major without ever even touching an Alchemy textbook, Roy, you know how much I busted my ass for that. And you know what they said to me? When I showed them my credentials? 'Oh, that's nice, but your cousin's a lawyer and makes even more money than that. Don't you think you could do better, dear?'" He mimicked a flighty, nasally voice, probably mocking his mother.

"And now, after all this time, they send me this shit- " And Maes slammed the letter onto his desk, violently, causing a whipping sound of paper-on-wood that made Roy flinch, but the suddenness of the act was what really made him shrink away - he rarely saw Maes so angry like this.

Maes, meanwhile, seemed to snap out of whatever rage-like stupor he was in once he realized Roy was frightened - he blinked, then started toward Roy and wrapped him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing Roy's hair. "I'm just- I'm so tired. The things they said about you..."

He took a breath, then drew away, giving Roy weak smile. "But it's fine. They're not coming to Yule with us anymore - and good riddance."

"They're not?" Roy wondered at him, recalling the very few times he'd seen Maes' family - who seemed like fairly well-off people of the upper middle-class, decent folk, if a bit stilted in their mannerisms. Maes never seemed comfortable around them, and he rarely spoke of them in all their time together - it seemed there'd been good reason for that.

"No, they aren't," Maes said, kissing at Roy's forehead again. "And you know what? I'm fucking relieved . This could actually be the best Solstice I've ever had, because for once I don't have to pretend that I'm happy around anyone."

He lowered his hands to Roy's stomach, looked at him softly. "Because I am. With both of you."

Roy had felt his eyes watering, at once heartbroken and brimming with joy for his dear husband, and he returned his affections with a long, tender kiss and embrace.

When they drew away, Maes asked him one last thing. "Roy- just do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything," Roy said.

"Keep me honest," Maes said, his expression soft, open, painfully vulnerable. "When I tell the kids I love them, make sure I mean it."

"Aw, Maes," Roy said, resting his head against Maes' chest. "Don't worry. You already do."

When Gracia heard the news later, she readily agreed with both ideas - good riddance to Hughes' family, and "Goodness' sakes, Maes, if you were any more earnest about your children, even I couldn't stand you."

---

The absence of Maes' family was not long missed - in their place are select members of Roy and Maes' former squadrons this year. They're a welcome presence in the house, and a great help with the preparations. Gracia's parents welcome them warmly - and are in agreement that Maes' family are better off gone, after hearing the news.

Some, like Armstrong, Maria, Fuery and Havoc, will only be here for several hours of Yule's Eve, planning to spend the holiday proper with their families; those without much of a family to go back to, like Riza, Breda and Falman, are here for the entire week; and those who are absent entirely are spending the extra time with loved ones who need it, which are Denny with his many younger siblings, and Sheska, who is staying with the Rockbells to offer her support.

Sheska even sent a letter in advance, and when an evening wound down and allowed time to spend on it, Maes reads it aloud to Gracia and Roy in the parlor:

A wonderful Solstice to you and your families, Mr. Hughes, Gracia, and everyone else. Special regards to Mustang and the new baby, I hope everything goes well. Miss Winry and her grandmother need all the help they can get after everything that's happened - you know, with Alphonse and that homonculus boy - I think they're all in need of a good Solstice. Rose and Paninya are here as well, and they send their regards. Miss Winry does too, and sends congratulations for the new baby to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

Maes frowns a little after reading the last line. "Nothing for the man actually giving us the baby," he mutters under his breath.

"Honey," Gracia whispers, catching his attention to shake her head at him. He looks at her, seated at his side on the couch, then looks to his other side, where Roy lays curled within his throw blankets against the armrest. He stares out at nothing, seeming to be in a low mood again, and Maes isn't sure if it's from the day wearing him out or his comment on the letter.

Maes lowers his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

Roy glances at him, then away, and just shrugs. "It's fine," he says distantly. "It's what I expected from her."

He's not talking about Sheska.

---

Days later, and it is finally Yule's Eve. The merriment in the household only grows as Fuery, Havoc, Maria and Armstrong arrive to partake in the festivities.

True to Roy's prediction, Fuery spends most of the evening deep in conversation with Sebastian about the technical wizardry of years past; Havoc enjoys playing Big Brother with Elicia and her little cousins; Maria aids in the last of the holiday dinner preparations, to the appreciation of Gabriella and her sisters.

Armstrong, meanwhile, does what he does best - being himself, as grand and boisterously as possible.

Early on, when his loud greetings rang out through the house and his massive frame approached Roy and Maes in the living room, a look of real, genuine terror flashed across Maes' face for a moment - and within the next moment, he'd whipped out a protective arm in front of Roy.

He said quickly, "M-Major! I would ask that you, uh- refrain from your usual form of affections, seeing Roy's current condition-"

Roy attempted to protest at the same time. "Wh- for goodness' sake Maes, I'm not made of glass -"

But both were drowned out by Armstrong's bellowing laughter. "Ah, please, no need to worry, sir! I wouldn't dream of laying hands upon your husband in such a state. I merely wished to extend my congratulations again - and a humble offer, if you do not mind."

He extended a massive hand forward, which Roy took, surprised at the man's gentleness in his grip, for once - at the same time he asks, "An offer, Major? What kind?"

Armstrong nods, and after exchanging less-gentle handshakes with Maes, replies, "In regards to your coming child, sirs - I've heard they will arrive very shortly! If you have need, the Armstrong family midwife and her assistants are eager and ready to help at a moment’s notice! They come highly recommended, believe me-"

He starts into what will no doubt be a tirade about the many good qualities of this midwife and her team, and how they assisted in bringing multiple generations of Armstrongs into existence, but Roy hurriedly gives him a polite shushing gesture and cuts him off.

"Ah- I'm sure she is, Major but uh- we have the midwife thing covered already, don't worry."

Armstrong stuttered mid-sentence, stared in confusion. "Ah- Oh. By whom, if I may ask?"

This would be answered just later that evening.

---

And sure enough, there is one last guest who has arrived fashionably late to the house - one that Roy has waited for anxiously.

When the doorbell rings and an all-too-familiar voice is heard across the living room, he lights up brighter than any flame could produce, and grunts his way to his feet to meet them at the door personally.

Shuffling in through the doorway, in a flurry of winter fur coats and bags, is a somewhat-portly woman of middle age, dark-haired and dark-eyed, well-dressed and made-up, with a beauty mark on one cheek. This woman is known to most as Madame Christmas, the owner of a once-prolific bar-and-brothel in East City; In reality, she is Chris Mustang, Roy’s aunt and foster mother.

She is the only living relative of his family, having survived either by miracle or her own wit; she took him in and raised him as her own, bringing him out of the orphanages and under her wing, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law; she and her girls gave him the ideal home and family to rediscover himself in the wake of losing of his parents; and they have taught him everything he knows about secrecy, subterfuge, and weaponizing one’s charms into a fine, precise point.

Her knowledge spans a grand swathe of subjects that most people would call “unsavory,” but among her clientele and employees, they are nothing less than essential. Among her skills is several years of experience in midwifery, and ensured that Roy’s mother had a safe, successful delivery on the day of his birth - she has, quite literally, known him for his whole life - so it is only appropriate for her to do the same for Roy and his own child all these years later.

In short, he would be nothing without her, so Roy he gives her the best hug he can muster, despite his large stomach getting in the way. But she squeezes back with just as much affection, even as she draws away with a sarcastic frown on her face as she looks upon him. Her first words to him are, "My goodness, Roy, you're huge ."

Roy snorts, then breaks down into a fit of giggles. Maes and Gracia laugh their way to the doorway to also greet Chris, along with several women that are both her fellow charges, and Roy’s adoptive sisters.

They’re equally surprised and delighted at Roy’s condition. “Oh my! You all must be so excited;” “Wow, you weren’t kidding, you look ready to pop!”; “Roy dear, you should really sit down…”

“She’s right, darling,” Chris says, agreeing with the last one. “You didn’t tell me you were this close! Goodness, didn’t I teach you any sense? Sit down, sit down, before you throw your back out…”

Roy, still laughing, lets himself be lead away and back to the sofa. “You did, Auntie, you did- It’s just- ah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

And he means it - Chris and the girls were a constant well of support for him until recently, as when the string of serial killings and conspiracies started up a few years ago, Roy was quick to call her up and advise her to leave the country for their safety. Chris begrudgingly obeyed, moving out westward and re-establishing herself there as best she could. Now that things are relatively settled (finally) and changing for the better, she’s recently moved back to Amestris - just in time to spend their first, proper Solstice together.

“Hmph! Then you could have called or written me more often, you sap,” Chris retorts, but there’s rarely any bite to her banter.

“Calls don’t go out to Creta,” Roy says as he settles back into the sofa. “And I wrote you as often as I could, Auntie. It was, ah- pretty crazy for a while there. I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

“I’ll say,” Chris says, rolling her eyes. “The Cretan newspapers were having field days with it. I almost started getting worried about you - then I heard you blew up the Führer.”

Roy laughs again. “I did, I did. That was… ah, man. There’s so much to tell you, Auntie.”

Chris smiles at him - a real, genuine smile - and takes his hand, gently, something she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Well, I’m here now, darling. Tell me all about it.”

---

And talk they did, for many hours - between introductions to Gracia’s family and Roy and Maes’ squadron members, the details of the past few years’ adventures, and plenty of embarrassing stories of Roy’s childhood, there was no shortage of conversation.

Soon enough, it is near-midnight - Armstrong, Fuery, Havoc and Maria bid their farewells and left long ago, the children have been put to bed, and most of Gracia’s family have retired for the night as well. Only Roy’s little family (minus Elicia) is still awake, bleary and yawning as they curl up together on the parlor sofa, still exchanging stories.

Chris, slightly buzzed from the wine, is still deep into the ‘embarrassing stories of Roy’s past’ part of their conversations. “I always knew you’d tie the knot with Maes someday, always knew,” she’s saying, side-hugging her adopted son and admiring the silver ring on his and Maes’ fingers. “It was just a matter of time - for you to get up your nerve, of course.”

“Oh, c’mon ,” Roy whines, suppressing a yawn at the same time. “I wasn’t nearly that bad. And you know there were other reasons I was hesitant.”

“I know, darling- but it’s still funny,” Chris says, smirking.

“Was he, now?” Maes says, grinning wolfishly. “I have an idea of how long you hid it from me, but I’m dying to hear your side of it, Ms. Mustang.”

“ Maes- ” Roy starts, but Chris leaps upon the chance before he can protest it.

“Oh, it was practically star-crossed ,” she waxes. “There were sparks from the moment you first met. He’d talk about you all the time when he called me from the Academy - as in, how much he hated you.”

Roy groans, and Maes throws back his head in laughter. “Ah, man- that checks out,” Maes wheezes. “I was a pretty big asshole back then.”

“ Was ,” Roy drawls sarcastically, earning him a playful jab in the shoulder from his husband.

“Shut up, I’m better now!”

“Debatable,” Gracia murmurs sleepily from the other end of the sofa.

“Don’t you two start again-”

“You three are adorable ,” Chris laughs. “I’ll admit, I was worried when you and Gracia hooked up and poor Roy was left out- but I’m glad it’s worked out now.”

Maes’ laughter grew uncomfortable. “Ah, well, I- I didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t open myself to it, I guess. I just- didn’t think it was an option at first, you know?”

“I know, dear,” Chris says. “I’m sure your family didn’t help there. We’ve all had our run-ins with conservatives - my brother probably would have balked at the idea if he were still here, rest his soul.”

“My father,” Roy muses at the mention. “Do you think… would he have accepted me, Auntie?” He asks with genuine curiosity, only tinged with sadness at its edges. Chris frowns, and thinks, and hugs Roy more closely.

“With time, darling, with time,” she says finally. “He was still a good man. And people change, they always do.”

“Yeah, we changed,” Maes says, after pecking Roy’s cheek with affection. “We went from hating each other’s guts to this . Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, Roy hums, growing quiet as he feels another pang from a fake contraction creeping upon him - he’s been dealing with them on and off all day, but they feel more intense than earlier in the week...

“And say, I wanted to ask,” Maes continues. “If you liked me for that long, why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I’m sure Ishval had to do with it, but-”

“That is part of it,” Roy murmurs. “But- hm. It’s uh, hard to explain,” he trails off, suppressing a grunt of pain.

Chris eyes him for a moment, then takes over in his explanation. “You see, Roy was in a very… tenuous place in his life, you could say. When he started attending the Academy, he’d only recently changed his name and started his medications, as I recall.”

She exchanges glances with Roy, who nods to confirm this.

“-Oh,” Maes says. “So you were still… in-between, kind of?”

“In a sense, yes,” Chris replies. “Physically and emotionally. Very insecure, very frightened, poor thing. He’d call me many times to talk about how scared he was of anyone finding out about his ‘secret’. And we all know how the military tends to treat people who are… different .” She says the word with a disgusted sneer.

Maes hums, nodding. “Yeah, yeah… didn’t want to get too close to anyone, then.”

“That, and he couldn’t allow himself to,” Chris continues. “Opening up his heart to anyone would risk his career, maybe his life, but most of all, it would’ve betrayed everything he was building up about himself. Admitting to being in love with you, a man , would’ve made him no different than the young lady he once resembled.”

She shrugs, frowning slightly. “...That was misguided, obviously, but like I said, he was young and insecure. And, obviously, Ishval didn’t help with that.”

Maes nods slowly, frowning. “Mm. I see.”

He looks back to Roy, seeing something pained in his husband’s face, and huddles closer to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press his face into his dark hair. “But I wish I could… y’know, really understand, completely. So I can be better for you,” he murmurs softly.

Roy snuggles against him, his warmth a small balm for his pain, both from his stomach and the memories. “That’s okay,” he whispers. “Just trying helps. Just being here, for me- that helps.”

He feels another pang, more acute this time, and can’t quite suppress a groan from it. Chris sits up at his other side. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you-”

“False alarms, Auntie, false alarms,” Roy says hurriedly, a little strained. “It’ll pass in a minute-”

“Roy, you’re due at any moment , Gracia says, now sounding more awake. “Those might not be false anymore.”

“Hey hey, easy now,” Maes says, supporting Roy against him. “I know I kept joking about the baby being the best Yule present, but I wasn’t serious- ”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Roy cuts in, leaning away, breathing easier since the pain was now fading. “It’s passing now, I’m okay- just like I said.”

There’s a beat of audible relief between everyone. Chris shakes her head, still frowning with concern. “Still, too close for comfort- you should really get some rest, dear. It’s late anyhow.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Maes says. “C’mon honey, let’s go to bed already.”

Roy gives a small sigh, mainly at the prospect of trying to stand up again. “Alright, alright…”

---

Maes was a light sleeper for as long as he could remember. This was useful after becoming a soldier, needing to be alert at all times on the warfront - it was not useful after he came back to city life, gained a stressful, overworking job, and was expected to still function as a normal human being. After that, he was nearly an insomniac.

He has spent many long, lonely nights alone in his own bed, with his own wife and child - he has spent countless more before he was married at all. Being married a second time, to a second partner, has not lessened this - but it has made it a little easier. Because at the very least, he can be comfortably trapped between two partners and feel safe, no matter what his paranoid brain tells him, and lying still and quiet between them for long enough can finally set him drifting into unconsciousness.

So it’s just his damn luck that on this particular night, Yule’s Eve, of all evenings, he is tired and content enough to actually fall asleep within a reasonable span of time, and sleep soundly - and then be rudely shaken awake only a few hours later by a trembling hand and distressed voice.

“Maes- Maes, Gracey, wake up. You were right, I think- ugh- I think it’s coming-”

“Ngh- Roy?” Maes drawls out sleepily. “What- What’s coming?”

“The baby , you idiot, we- ow- we need to go- ”

“Coming…?” Gracia yawns awake. “What- Oh, oh god, Roy-”

Gracia’s form jerks to an upright position at his other side, jostling Maes further, and now there is no hope of him returning to that blessed space of mind where he is genuinely sleepy - instead it is replaced with panic over the realization that Roy is in labor.

“ Shit- ” he curses, and all but leaps to his feet from their shared bed - tight quarters in an already-small guest room - and haphazardly gets himself dressed as Gracia eases Roy to his feet, taking him through the breathing exercises they’d been practicing for months in preparation for this. They ease the pain, allegedly.

Maes can’t really tell as they shuffle out into the hallway, watching Roy double over from the contractions when they come, wishing he could do something, anything - he hates feeling helpless, and didn’t enjoy this when Elicia was born.

They turn a corner towards the living room, and he nearly jumps out of his skin - coming down another hallway is Chris and a few of her girls, wearing robes and holding oil lamps.

Chris’s eyes widen at the sight of them, and she lifts her lantern to look better. “It’s happening?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maes and Gracia say, almost in unison.

“Hmph! I knew it. C’mon then, we’ll take my car, it’s roomier.”

---

The next several hours are a blur, between the haze of pain Roy is experiencing and the panic everyone else is having. The car ride consisted of Gracia sitting by him in the back seats, breathing in time with him in their exercises, and Chris at his other side, instructing him to rock himself to and fro to ease the pressure. Maes and one of his sisters, Bridget he recalls, sat at the front of the car, struggling with maps and directions in the pitch-black of the night, toward the Central hospital where his specialized doctor would ensure a discreet delivery.

There was a lot of yelling and cursing, mostly from Maes against Central’s ‘backwards-ass street system,’ but at some point they finally arrived and Maes all but launched himself from the driver’s seat to run inside and schedule with the doctor. Soon, Roy was being lowered into a wheelchair and sped along into an operating room by a nurse, meeting with his doctor, and then entering the painful, arduous process of childbirth.

He tries not to dwell on anything - if he does, it’s on the small things. Gracia and Chris squeezing his hands as they lead him through various pain-relieving positions; Maes kissing his sweating forehead and muttering small prayers; everyone’s praise and encouragement at even the smallest amounts of progress.

In short, it’s as awful as Gracia warned him it would be, even with painkillers - but eventually, blessedly, he hears the tiny cries of the child he’s brought into existence, and when they are cleaned and brought into his waiting arms, he is told they are a healthy baby boy. As planned, he is named Elias Mustang Hughes.

Poor Elicia - she was looking forward to a sister.

---

The golden light of morning peaks over dark winter clouds, and gently streams through the plain curtains of the hospital room - morning is here, on the Winter Solstice, and Roy’s family has welcomed the birth of their son.

There was a flurry of emotions within and without him as Roy first held his child in his arms - rampant thoughts of “oh my god I’m holding a tiny person in my arms that I made inside my body and he’s here and he’s mine ”; Maes kissing him over and over, practically sobbing with happiness; Gracia all but climbing into the bed with them to hug him, also crying; Chris nearly shoving them both aside to get a closer look at her new grand-nephew and saying, “Oh, Roy… he looks like your mother, a little.” And that got Roy’s waterworks flowing as well.

Things have calmed down by now - Gracia has taken Elias aside (making Roy begrudgingly let go of him) to feed him milk formula she’d prepared ahead of time, seeing as Roy was not equipped to do so; Maes is pacing the room and whispering curses at himself for forgetting his camera in all the rush; Chris has pulled up a chair by Roy’s bedside to tell him more stories about his parents and the days he himself was an infant.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and it creaks open - a nurse peeks in, saying “Excuse me - Hughes family? You have visitors- erm, a lot of them.”

“Oh, uh- let them in,” Maes stammers as he goes to the door, and he opens it fully.

Once again there a flurry of activity, for as soon as the door is thrown open, a small throng of people and things make their way inside the room. Gracia’s parents and aunts, Elicia and her cousins, Roy’s sisters, and Riza, Breda and Falman, all file inside with armfuls of boxes, baskets, and other containers filled to the brim with Yule decorations - the decorations from the house, Roy realizes, as they set about placing them around the hospital room in a similar manner to how they were back at the house.

Sebastian, broad and strong, even carries the entire Yule tree into the room with Breda and Falman’s assistance, setting it in the corner and piling the wrapped presents underneath it, just like it was in the parlor.

The nurses and doctors, of course, are none too happy about this; neither is Gracia, because the noise and commotion makes little Elias start crying again, and she has to place him back into Roy’s arms to calm him. Gabriella apologizes for everyone, but soon the work is done and things have settled again.

Bridget, who was nowhere to be seen during his labor, Roy realizes belatedly, turns to them and smiles triumphantly after placing the last of the decorations. “Sorry for the mess,” she says. “I called the house while you were in delivery to tell them the news, and Ms. Gabby had the best idea - since you guys would be stuck here and missing the party, we brought the party to you !”

Roy doesn’t know what to say to this; Gracia’s anger is calmed, but still thinks the whole thing’s a bit excessive (but it is something her mother would absolutely do); Maes is completely flabbergasted, mouth hanging open stupidly.

This is quickly rectified by Elicia approaching her mother and father to berate them - “You made me miss the baby! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Gracia tells her, lifting her into her arms to make up for it with hugs. “But it was the middle of the night, and we were in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Maes says nonchalantly. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. But look, honey- this is your baby brother, Elias.”

Elicia stares at the bundle in Roy’s arms - then pinches with disgust. “I thought it was a girl- and he’s so ugly .”

“He was just born , dear, give him a break,” Roy says tiredly, but he’s laughing too. “You looked a lot like this when you were born too, as I recall.”

“Gross!” Elicia cries, shaking her pigtails, and Maes and Gracia are laughing as well.

And the rest of that day was just as enjoyable - the other guests acquainted themselves with little Elias and extended praise and congratulations to the family; presents were given out and opened with much joy and appreciation; food and drink was brought and shared over happy conversations; even music was brought in the form of Riza’s portable radio to smooth out the atmosphere with pleasant, quiet jazz.

The Yule gifts ran the gamut from clothes and candy to tools and appliances, some a perfect match to their recipients, others not so much, but nonetheless appreciated - after all, the most important aspect of the gift-giving was the well-wishes given alongside the physical presents. According to Sebastian, the ancient tribes of Amestris who started this tradition exchanged nothing more than small good-luck charms under their trees, for hope to survive the rest of the bitter winters.

For indeed, there is an overwhelming atmosphere of hope in this hospital room - for love, living, and a brighter future, especially after the strife of the past several years. For Roy, this is most evident in the new life he now holds in his arms.

---

Nearly a month later, the Hughes family have long since returned to their home with little Elias in tow - and as Gracia also warned, it is very tiring to care for a newborn. Especially with a somewhat-bratty four-year-old who must now deal with the reality of no longer being the sole center of attention from her parents.

But between the three of them, it’s manageable - two people to exchange shifts of sleeping and tending to the baby, a third person to tend to Elicia’s needs.

It was harder in the beginning, with Roy not only being new at this, but also very drained from the effort of delivery - luckily they received helpful visitors every few days after the Solstice, in the form of Gracia’s relatives, Chris and the girls, or members of Roy and Maes’ squadrons. For those who were absent, it also serves as their first opportunity to see little Elias and extend their congratulations (Armstrong, in his usual form, burst into tears at the sight of the child, he was so happy).

So far, only Elicia is unimpressed with her baby brother - on top of not being a girl, she complains of his small size and inability to walk, dashing her hopes of a new playmate anytime soon, and that he does nothing but sleep, eat, cry, and soil his diapers.

Again, her parents must remind her that he is mere weeks old, and she was much the same at that age. And again, she does not believe them. Ah, children.

One morning, finally feeling hale and healthy enough, Roy spends a few hours sitting outside on the porch with his coffee, watching morning traffic go by as the sun rises over Central’s skyline.

And it’s strange - he feels kind of empty, somehow, despite how full his life is. He must be slipping back into his low moods again - Gracia warned of postpartum depression as well. He tries not to dwell on it, as usual - he sips his sweetened coffee, watches the sunlight dance upon steel and wood rooftops, and wonders what sort of person his son will grow up to be.

He can’t settle on an answer - who could, with how broad the possibilities could be - but he does hope beyond all hopes, that Elias, and Elicia as well, will be better than the terrible mistakes their fathers have committed and still live with.

There is a shifting behind him suddenly, and the opening and closing of the front door - Roy turns to see Maes joining him on the porch, pulling up a deck chair beside him.

“Good mornin,” Maes says, pecking Roy’s cheek. “You’re up early. Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy says, shrugging. “How are the kids doing?”

“Eli’s been fed, so he’s down for the count for now,” Maes says. “And Elicia’s still sleeping. Gracey’s tucking in for a nap while it’s safe, and sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” Roy says. “Well, like I said, I’m fine, so…”

“Are you?” Maes asks, eyes searching. “I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you had a rough time of it- if anything’s bothering you, you can tell me, hun. You know I’m always here.”

Roy frowns, and attempts to deflect him again - but as usual, his husband’s pretty, pleading eyes make it hard to keep up any facade for very long.

He sighs sadly. “I don’t know- I’m still tired, I guess. And I keep thinking…”

“Of what?”

Roy pauses, thinks for a long while, bothering his lower lip with his teeth again.

“Maes,” he says finally. “What are we going to tell them? About us, and what we’ve done?”

He swallows, thick with emotion suddenly. “How- how do I tell my son about Ishval ?”

Maes’ smile fades, his mouth a thin line, and he sits back, turning away. He searches the skyline for a small eternity, eyes squinting, as if searching for the answer. But eventually, he closes his eyes and exhales, and turns back to Roy.

“We’ll tell them everything,” he says solemnly. “The good, the bad- all of it. They deserve to know. We have to be better than the old bastards at Headquarters.”

“Mm,” Roy hums sadly. He’s right. He usually is.

“And then,” Maes says, taking Roy’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ll tell them to be better than us.”

He meets his eyes at that, and Roy can see something misty behind Maes’ glasses - and feels a prickling in his own. He dips his head and leans in, letting Maes hug him by the shoulders and lean against him in kind.

They watch the rest of the sunrise together. They hope that someday, their children will see something similar - a sun rising on a better world.

END.

#hyuroi #hyuroigracia #trans pregnancy #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes

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