#so just keep them coming i can’t guarantee i’ll write it or write it Soon but i promise i look at every single one and think they’re all

[astrobei]

i can’t find the original post i made about it but i asked for ficlet prompts a while back and i have a few still left in my inbox but feel free to send more !! i save them for when i need to kill some writers block or need a break from a bigger fic so literally just keep them coming

[colormepurplex2]

In Memory of Him | It's Cold In Here

↳ Florist!Taehyung x Artist!f.Reader ⤜ Non-Idol, Late Husband's Best Friend ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 13,558 ⚠️ Mild language, death/loss of a loved one, deep depression, high anxiety, loads of guilt, hidden feelings, realizations, hurt feelings, repressed feelings, hurt/comfort

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist

With trembling fingers, you smooth out the letter that you found attached to a bundle of flowers on your doorstep.

To the love of my life, For after the funeral Take a deep breath, baby, I know it’s not easy. Even as I sit and write this, I can feel your energy in the next room. You’re always such a worrier, I’m sorry I’ve added to that. It’ll all be better soon, I promise. But, I know you and I know that you’ll pull away, you’ll cut yourself off…and we can’t have that, now can we? You have to keep going if we’re to stay connected even after I’m gone.

So, here’s the first of a collection of some things that you can hold and look back on when the storm starts to roll in. There are only so many words in existence to describe what you mean to me. So, instead of words, I want you to remember these feelings: Warmth - like the sun on your face while you read a great book Satisfaction - the way you sigh softly after a good, lazy day in bed Contentment - waking up with a smile on your face every morning Peace - that moment of quiet before the rain starts, when the scent of petrichor filters in These are all the things you’ve brought into my life the last seven years. I’ve never been able to look at the sun, sleeping, smiles, or storms the same. Never did I imagine I’d meet and marry such a beautiful, kind-hearted soul with a genuinely unique outlook on life. I never had to be reminded to smile because it just came so naturally whenever you were around. You have brought so much light into my world and gave me the best years of my life. You also gave me Sujin, the perfect little replica of myself even if you think he looks more like you than me (I secretly agree, but that’s not something I’ll admit outloud). When I look at our wonderful son, I’m reminded of the beauty that first drew me to you all those years ago. Being his father is the second greatest achievement of my life, the first being making you fall madly in love with me…don’t laugh, you know it’s true. Many people see things in black and white, a beginning and an end…but our life isn’t like that. We’re full of color and everything in between. You’ve supported me at my best and have loved me at my worst. Everything good in my life is because of you. I know you’ll always love me, and I know it won’t be easy once I’m gone, but I need you to promise me you’ll continue to wake up with that smile on your face and never forget how the sun feels or how beautiful the quiet before the storm is. I need my light, my girl, to keep going. Be that guiding light so I know exactly where you are in the world as I watch over you and Sujin. We knew forever wasn’t guaranteed, that’s just the way life is, right? This doesn’t mean it’s over, not by a long shot. You still have so much more to give, so much more love to offer.  I know you’d never forget about me, that’s not what this letter is for—it’s not a reminder of me, it’s a reminder to live, love, and keep shining. There are more where this came from, Taehyung has them and knows what to do, but not until you’re ready for them. I love you so much, never stop living—for me, for Sujin…for you. Love forever, Your Yejun

The letter crumples in your fist, the bundle of hibiscus and lavender it was attached to forgotten on the step between your feet as you bury your face in the crook of your elbow and scream. It’s better that way—the symbolism of the hibiscus flower on a letter from Yejun is a punch to the gut when he’s no longer here. Eternity? Bullshit. The sound is muffled into the thick wool of your coat but no less filled with agony. As if the day wasn’t hard enough, everything went belly-up when you found the flowers and the letter on your door step. You choke on a breath of air as you try to control yourself.

“Yejun.” His name drips from your trembling lips, absorbed into your jacket sleeve like your cries. “I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave us?”

A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, jerking away from the potential comfort, despite it being exactly what you need right now. You crowd against the wall, knees knocking into one another as you huddle in on yourself where you’re sitting in the stairwell outside your apartment door.

“Hey, hey, hey, come here,” a strong, soothing voice coos. Your limbs protest weakly for a moment, your heart raging with guilt at the prospect of finding solace in another man’s arms—even if that man is Taehyung, your now late husband's best friend—but the desperate need for someone to hold your pieces together wins out. You fear if you let yourself truly break, you’ll never be able to be made whole again. You frantically launch into those open arms, keening a wail into the solid chest between them. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

💔💔💔

Two years later

“Mommy, are we going to Uncle Tae’s house today?” Sujin asks from behind you, where he’s strapped into his booster seat.

You glance in the rearview mirror, angling yourself so you catch a glimpse of his smile as he stares out the window, patiently awaiting your answer. It’s gotten easier over the last two years to look at him without growing weepy. He looks like and reminds you so much of Yejun. They have the same chestnut-colored eyes and floppy midnight tresses. When he smiles, the tiny dimple on his left cheek is a near mirror to his father’s and something that your eyes seek out every time he flashes you a grin. Little pieces of his father that fill the gaps in your heart.

“Did you not want to stay at Grandma’s tonight? That’s what you said you wanted yesterday,” you remind him.

Sujin hums like he’s thinking hard about your question. “Well, I did want to go to Grandma’s, but I also want to see Uncle Tae, and plus, he always has good ice cream. All Grandma has is boring vanilla.”

“How about we see if Uncle Tae wants to hang out this weekend? I think Grandma would be sad if you decided not to stay with her tonight.”

In truth, you’d also be a bit disappointed if Sujin changed his mind. Being only four when his father passed, he doesn’t remember Yejun much, mostly knows him from photos and stories he’s heard. So, it’s not surprising he’s not able to put together that today is the second anniversary of his father’s passing. He doesn’t know that tonight isn’t just about your mom getting a visit. It’s also about you having an evening to grieve without being under your son's watchful and inquisitive eye.

Though maybe you’re wrong, perhaps he knows more than you think as he responds softly, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’ll stay with Grandma so you can go visit Daddy.”

If it wasn’t for tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you might have driven right off the highway. “You know what today is?” you ask hesitantly once your initial shock passes.

“Of course I do,” Sujin says with another smile, his dimple catching in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the car window. “I might not remember him, but I could never forget him.” It’s a wonder there aren’t more six-year-old poets, as what he just said is easily the most eloquent thing ever uttered by a child. Your heart swells, and you feel that telltale burn in the back of your nose and behind your eyes as you blink away the flood of emotions threatening to spill into the open.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “That’s right. He’d be so proud of you and how much you’ve grown.”

“He’d be proud of you, too, Mommy.”

It’s another blow, directly targeting the cracks already forming in your armor. Fissures zip and snap over the surface of the wall you’ve spent the last two years building. “Thank you, buddy. I love you,” you manage to get past the lump in your throat. 

The rest of the car ride home is spent with Sujin telling you about his day at school and how one of his classmates snuck a salamander into the classroom after recess. You hum, haw, and laugh as he recounts the way the class reacted to the discovery of the amphibian.

It makes you feel lighter, listening to his words and hearing the clear whimsy his heart possesses as the salamander suddenly becomes a dragon and Sujin, the fearless knight that saved the teacher—the damsel in distress—by scooping it up and putting it in an empty lunch box.

“She said since I was so brave and such a good helper that I could go outside with Mr. Kim, the science teacher, and help him release it back into the wild,” he proudly proclaims. “Did you know salamanders like water? Mr. Kim said they’re kind of like frogs even though they look more like lizards.” Sujin continues on, spouting off facts he learned about the salamander from his science teacher.

It’s a short drive from the school to your apartment. You’ve often thought about moving, using some of the life insurance money from Yejun to buy you and Sujin a lovely place outside the city. But, your mom lives just a floor up, and it’s been convenient having someone so close to look after Sujin when you need them, like tonight.

Having your mom close by, not just as a babysitter but also as an emotional support outlet, has been a blessing and far outweighs the other feelings—the seemingly endless void that now lingers in place of your late husband. With that, though, you can’t help looking at your small apartment as more like a preservation of memories. It was the first place you and Yejun moved into after getting married. It’s the place you both brought Sujin home to when he was born. It’s still filled with so many memories…you’re not sure you want to leave—at least, not yet.

The building has no elevator, just several winding flights of steps right up the middle. “Go on up to Grandma’s. I’ll stop by with dinner before I leave. Remember, homework first before you play.”

Sujin gives you a beaming smile and nods his head in understanding before vaulting up the stairs, his strong six-year-old legs carrying him far faster than your own. You watch him disappear up the stairs—the last flash of his face so reminiscent of Yejun racing up those very same steps the day you moved in—followed by the familiar sound of your mother’s voice drifting out over and down the stairwell as she welcomes him into her space—a safe space, away from the looming cloud of darkness over you.

Knowing he’s occupied and cared for, you allow your mask to slip just a little. The weight on your shoulders eases as you let the emotional fatigue roll in and replace your typically calm and collected demeanor. Even after two years, it’s not gotten any easier when this particular day comes. The holidays are hard, sure. There are plenty of days where you find yourself feeling like it’s too much…but nothing truly compares to this day. It’s not filled with happy memories the way those other days are. It’s nothing but darkness. There is a constant ache in your chest, which is amplified when the calendar turns over, and you find yourself once again reliving that fateful day all over again.

You spent nearly every waking hour sitting beside Yejun, the uncomfortable, stiff hospital chair becoming your permanent perch. The ventilator was always loud, but the punching swoosh grew to be comforting because you knew that meant he was still there. All the lines and tubes hooked up to him made it look like a scene from one of those sci-fi films he enjoyed making you watch with him. Yejun was so full of life when you first met, many years before. But, the image stuck in your mind—the one you can’t seem to get rid of—is of him with sallow cheeks and pale, greyish lips, drained of life.

It’s weird to think of watching someone die. But that’s precisely what you did over the six months Yejun was in the hospital. The disease moved quickly, the cancer stealing your husband away bit by bit, and you were powerless to stop it. That’s probably one of the worst parts, the helpless feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t prevent it from happening. No amount of prayer, begging, or screaming would change it. He’d still die, just the same. Day by day, the best parts of the man you loved vanished, and by the end—you feel guilty even thinking the thoughts, so you push them out of your head. 

After unlocking the door, you step into the quiet space of your apartment. Your shoes join the ones discarded by the door before you drop your purse on the small console table against the wall and make your way across the living room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. Sujin’s room is the first door. You peek inside to see that he had made up his bed before school this morning. You make a mental note to grab one of his chocolate popsicles from the freezer before dropping off dinner tonight. He deserves a little treat for being such a good kid.

The small single bathroom sits between Sujin’s room and the larger of the two bedrooms, the one you shared with Yejun for almost five years. You haven’t changed any of the decor. Everything is the same as it always has been, right down to the pillow on Yejun’s side of the bed. It took months before you mustered the courage to wash the pillow case and cried the entire time you stripped the pillow and plopped it in the washer.

The pillow was small fish compared to the closet. Going through all of Yejun’s clothes nearly took you out. Thankfully, Taehyung was there to help. You weren’t the only one that lost someone two years ago today. Taehyung and Yejun grew up together and worked together for the last dozen years, starting out as teens together at Taehyung’s parents' florist shop. They are—were—as close as brothers, and not just for the fact that Taehyung’s parents took Yejun in when his parents both passed, but because of their unbreakable bond—a bond nearly as strong as the one you had with Yejun.

Taehyung has been there for you whenever you’ve needed him since Yejun’s passing. All it takes is a phone call or a text message, and he drops everything for you. You try not to take advantage of it because you don’t want him sucked into your empty void any more than he already is. No grown man should be attached to a woman like that, especially when he has no obligation for it.

But, you must admit, it’s nice knowing he’s there…especially today. This is the one day of the year that you know you don’t have to text or call Taehyung for him to show up. His one promise to you. He’ll be there, waiting for you at the cemetery, just like he was last year.

You pull off your oversized t-shirt and worn jeans covered in splotches of paint from your time in the studio today. Once a well-known local artist, you haven’t been able to create anything worthwhile since Yejun passed. He would always joke about being your one true muse. It seems he wasn’t wrong. Everything you’ve been able to create in the last two years feels wrong, like it’s missing something.

The life insurance you received from Yejun has been more than enough to keep you and Sujin afloat. However, you feel like a failure having even to touch that money, even if it’s just to pay the bills. If you could just get your life together, you’d be able to provide for yourself and Sujin the way you once did—before everything happened. Shoving that line of thinking away, you focus on the here and now, just getting through the next handful of hours.

A quick shower later, and you’re dressed in a warm sweater and a clean pair of jeans with thick wool socks. It’s cold, winter having well and truly taken hold outside, but when the sun goes down, the bite from the wind grows more bitter. Grabbing the large, lidded bowl of beef stew you had cooking in the slow cooker all day. You wrap it in a dish towel to keep from burning your hands on the hot sides, snag a popsicle for Sujin, and make the short trip upstairs to your mom’s place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your mom greets you when she opens the door. She’s gotten a lot more grey in her hair in the last year or so. The steel-colored strands stand out against her temples, framing her strong but still soft face. You used to think she looked too austere, but then you realized that was just the permanent mark of motherhood and time.

“Hi, Mom. Did Sujin get his homework done?” You follow your mom in, shutting and locking the door behind you as she ambles into the kitchen on the other side of the living room. Her apartment is a near mirror of your own, her second bedroom set up for Sujin as well.

“He finished a bit ago and wanted to break out the paints. Was nattering on about some sort of lizard, I think. He wanted to try to paint it,” she explains, putting the tea kettle on without needing to ask. Peppermint tea with a dollop of honey can fix even the worst of woes in her eyes. She’ll insist you have some just as she has any other time she can feel your darkness crowding in. You’ve grown to appreciate your mother's intuition, both for yourself and your son's sake.

“There was an incident involving a student bringing in a salamander at school, it seems. Sujin helped the teacher and was allowed to go out with Namjoon—Mr. Kim—to release it.” You recall the conversation in the car, your mother chuckling softly when you tell her about the salamander turning into a dragon.

She busies herself, packing the tea steeper with her own blend of mint tea. Tending the small garden of herbs and spices that she keeps on the fire escape off the living room, is how she spends most of her days since she retired a few years ago. Even in winter, she keeps a small plastic greenhouse over them, opening it just enough to care for them each day. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with that science teacher now?” she asks. You can tell she’s lightly probing, trying to figure out if there is anything more between you and ‘Mr. Kim’.

“I met him at the beginning of the year when we had parent-teacher meetings. He insisted I call him Namjoon, that’s all, Mom.”

Humming, she grabs the kettle just before it begins to whistle. “Still, he’s nice?” she asks, casting you a glance over her shoulder.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, wishing she’d not try to go down this path of questioning. You know she means well, but you’re just…you’re not ready to think about those things.

“He’s nice enough, Mom, I guess. It was just a slip of the tongue. I’m used to greeting him at drop-off in the mornings. It’s not—I don’t, it’s just being cordial, y’know? I’m not ready…” you trail off, hoping your mom picks up on what you’re trying to say so you don’t actually have to say it; not today.

Her free hand goes to her mouth, covering her frown. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—you know I’d never, not like that. I’m sorry. Forgive an old fool for her loose words.”

“It’s okay, Mom, really,” you offer with a tight smile as you set the stew on the counter and pop the popsicle you brought for Sujin in the freezer.

She sets down the tea, the cup slightly trembling on the tiny saucer she serves it on. “I made some pajeon to go with the stew. It’s warming in the oven. Are you going to stay for dinner?” she asks, seeing that you need to move on from the previous subject.

You settle on one of the chairs at her small dining table, pick up the tiny teacup, and blow across the surface before taking a tentative sip. The mint is a cooling contrast to the heat of the liquid, coating your throat with a soothing sensation. The blooming sweetness of the honey lingers on your tongue, helping combat the intense punch of the minty flavor. It’s comforting. Reminds you of home.

“I’m not all that hungry. You and Sujin enjoy it. You’re sure you’re okay taking him to school tomorrow?” She gives you a fond smile and nods. “I’ll pick him up on my way home and we’ll come have dinner.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.”

You finish off the tea, suppressing a grimace as it goes down a little too warm and nearly scalds your throat. The sun will be completely down soon, and you’d like to get to the cemetery before it’s too dark out. “I should get going. Just going to say hi to him real quick.”

Your mom watches you stand. Her eyes are hyper-focused on your face. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says slowly. It’s clear she wants to say more, but you’re glad she doesn’t push.

The room your mom has set up for Sujin has a small bed pushed into one corner, leaving the rest of the space for him to play—unlike his room at your place, which has a writing desk and dresser taking up the majority of the play space. He’s never complained, though, choosing to get creative with the small room he does have. “Hey, buddy, Grandma said you’re painting. Can I see?”

You lean on the door jamb, peering into the room. The easel Sujin is using is angled away from the door. All you can see is smears of bright color peeking around the edge of the canvas.

His bright eyes meet yours as he grins extra wide. “It’s not done yet, but of course you can see it.”

Stepping in and around the easel frame, you take in the canvas covered in paint. When your mom said he was going to paint the salamander, you knew there was a possibility of said ‘lizard’ being portrayed as a dragon as it was in Sujin’s story in the car. But what you didn’t expect were the characters surrounding the dragon. You count them, six in total. The brunette woman at the top of the castle tower is clearly Sujin’s teacher, Mrs. Min. Sujin himself is astride the dragon, and who you think is Namjoon stands in a corner near some trees, his large-frame glasses are what lead you to believe that’s who it is. The other three characters are where you’re a bit lost.

“Who are these people?” you ask, gesturing to the other feminine figure framed by two men; one with unruly black hair and the other with small angel wings extending from his shoulders. It dawns on you the moment you ask.

“That’s you, Daddy, and Uncle Tae, of course,” Sujin proudly states. “You were in the tower with Mrs. Min. I’m rescuing her, and Uncle Tae is rescuing you while Daddy guides him.”

You’re not sure what to say. But you can’t help looking at your son in a different light. He’s only six, but in moments like this, you feel like his soul is older and wiser than yours. “It’s lovely,” you finally say, because it truly is, and everything else you could say would definitely start the waterworks, and there will be enough of that later. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get you. Be good for Grandma. There’s a treat for you in the freezer, but only after dinner, okay?” You feel like you’re running away—and maybe you are, but the darkness creeps in just a little bit further the more you look at his painting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sujin beams at you sweetly. He lifts his chin, angling a cheek in your direction for a kiss. You plant one there, throwing an arm around his back for a quick squeeze, too. “Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you, too, buddy,” you murmur, shoving down the suffocating feeling bubbling in your chest—just need to make it a few more hours.

💔💔💔

The cemetery is about an hour's drive from your place in the city. Yejun grew up in the countryside, and the columbarium where he’s interred is at the cemetery closest to his and Taehyung’s childhood home. It’s a quiet drive, a typical Tuesday evening if it were any other week. You don’t even bother with music, haven’t in the last two years, preferring to just soak in the quiet and try to center yourself.

As you pull into the parking area outside the gate to the grounds, you spot Taehyung’s black SUV. He’s standing beside it, leaning against the driver's side door with his chin tipped down below the line of the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. Your headlights swing across his vehicle, illuminating him in the process as you park.

You take your time climbing out of your car, casting fleeting glances in his direction while you gather your courage and resolve. He’s wearing a thick grey-colored tweed coat that covers him to the knees, and khaki slacks lead down to shiny brown loafers. His hair is windswept, the fluffy waves moving across his forehead with every gust of chilly air.

“Hey,” you say as you swing open your door and step out. He catches your eye over the roof of your car and gives you a soft smile.

“Good evening. Drive okay?”

You nod. “Not too much traffic, which is always nice.”

“You should have let me come and pick you up.” It’s the same thing he said last year, to which you decline politely just the same as well.

“Thanks, but I enjoy the drive. Gives me time to think.”

His eyes flick over you, taking you in from head to toe. There is understanding clear on his face. “Shall we?” He gestures toward the entrance gate. You notice a small bundle of flowers held in his other hand that’s hanging by his side. “Oh, this is for you.” It surprises you when Taehyung offers you the flowers, having thought he was bringing them to leave in Yejun’s vase.

You take the offered cluster, automatically bringing it to your nose and giving it a delicate sniff. It’s hard to smell the fragrance in the cold, but as you peer down at the flowers and take in the deep purple and soft pink, the scent of lavender and hibiscus filters through as if on a memory. It’s a combination that reminds you painfully of Yejun, as this was always his go-to whenever he would bring you home flowers from the shop after work.

“Thank y—“ your polite words cut off as you hear the distinct crackle of paper as you shift the bundle of flowers between your hands. “What’s this?” you ask, holding the flowers up until you see the small envelope attached to the hemp string holding the bunch together.

“A note,” Taehyung responds slowly as if he’s trying to decide if that’s all he’ll say. “Perhaps wait until we’re settled to read it?”

You finger the crisp fold of parchment, wondering. “Okay, yeah,” you agree, chalking it up to most likely being a grievance note from Taehyung, and it might be awkward for you to read it right now in front of him.

The cemetery typically closes at sundown, but Taehyung has access as the gardener. When he and Yejun took over Taehyung’s parents' floral shop, they expanded the business to include landscaping for local companies and establishments. The cemetery is one such establishment they took on. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the small pedestrian gate that must have been locked up not too long ago, judging by the sun barely having dipped below the horizon.

“Moojin left about ten minutes before you pulled up,” Taehyung explains casually, confirming the thought you just had. “It’ll just be us, so we can take as much time as we need.”

Maybe you should feel bad that Taehyung gives you preferential treatment and access to the cemetery after hours, but it’s hard to care about that when other, darker feelings have you clutched so tightly. The walk to the columbarium is relatively short, being one of the newer buildings erected within the grounds just some twenty years ago or so.

“The trees are doing well, even in the winter,” you note, nodding toward the row of young pines along the fence line. It was one of the last projects Yejun worked on with Taehyung before he became ill.

“He’d be able to tell you all the properties of the tree that make it sustainable during this time of the year,” Taehyung responds, his voice carrying notes of sadness. Yejun doesn’t come up much in conversation between the two of you, most things not needing to be said, merely understood without a spoken word. So, it’s surprising and endearing to actually hear Taehyung talk about him, especially now.

You smile, knowing he’s right. “With enough scientific jargon to make you go cross-eyed trying to keep up, too.”

That earns you a soft laugh from Taehyung. “And he wouldn’t even realize it until you’re so lost you can’t even pretend to have understood.”

“I miss that,” you whisper with a sigh, your warm breath misting lightly in the cold.

Taehyung slips his arm through yours, hooking his elbow around the crook of your arm. “Me, too.”

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s never easy, watching the way you suffer through your emotions. Taehyung knows you try to hide them, and sometimes you’re successful. But others…like right now, he can read you as clear as a bright spring sky. Only instead of pastel blues, pinks, and yellows, you’re a stark monochrome of Pantone grey. Just as clear, but decidedly less alive. He hates it. Knowing just how vibrant of a person you once were. When Yejun left your life, so, too, did the color, it seems. Leeched away with the slow death of your husband. It’s a cruel fate, Taehyung has decided, and it’s one you never deserved. Yejun also knew this. He saw this in the way you mourned at his bedside, even before he was gone. It’s why Yejun made Taehyung promise to take care of you, to never let you forget how to smile.

As more time passes, Taehyung isn’t sure whether or not he’s done a good job by Yejun’s request. Not when the dark circles around your eyes seem to get more permanent every time Taehyung sees you. It’s why he brought the letter—the next letter. He’s curious if you remember the first one, the one that came the day of Yejun’s funeral; the one that had you crawling into Taehyung’s arms for the first time, seeking the comfort you knew was there.

That’s happened a few times in the two years since Yejun now. Any time you begin to fray at the edges and unravel a bit too quickly, Taehyung’s been there, weaving you back together the best he can. It might not be pretty, but a patchwork quilt is better than shredded rags, he likes to think. He hopes, at least.

“Are you warm enough?” Taehyung asks, realizing your arm is trembling around his. The jacket you’re wearing is far too thin, meant more for warding off spring rain showers than winter chills. Your lips are formed into a thin, bloodless line as if you’re trying to keep your teeth from chattering, and your brow is pinched.

The lift of your shoulder is subtle, dismissive and nonchalant. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Here,” Taehyung insists, pulling you to a halt on the walking path. “Take this.” He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the thinner trench you’re wearing over your sweater. You instantly relax, a soft sigh misting the air in front of your mouth.

“Thank you. I forget how cold it gets out here at night,” you mumble, encouraging Taehyung to continue walking toward the entrance to the columbarium, where Yejun’s memorial awaits. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” Your eyes are round and glassy when you look up at him, the moonlight overhead reflecting in their depths.

The thick sweater Taehyung has on paired with his wool scarf is enough to stave off the wintery bite, but what warms him the most is seeing your eyes flash with a brief flicker of life when you snuggle into the depths of his jacket, bringing the tweed collar up around your neck after he assures you he’s fine without it.

Your feet shuffle, your stride slowing as you approach the columbarium. Taehyung can feel your hesitancy. The air around you is suffocating and full of static, something Taehyung wants desperately to help dispel.

“Come on. Together.” Taehyung offers you his hand, splaying his fingers wide in invitation. You lick your lips, eyes flicking between Taehyung’s face and his offered hand. Finally, you sag a little and slip your fingers in between his.

Your hand is soft and delicate in his. Taehyung has always admired your ability as an artist, being able to take your hands and a simple tool like a paintbrush and create something profound and breathtaking. Some might argue that what Taehyung does is also a form of art, but he swears it’s nothing compared to the pure magic you create. He’s found himself under your spell more than once, entranced by your art.

Even the works you’ve created in the last two years, the things you keep hidden away in your studio, are still quite beautiful—if more haunted. Taehyung knows you’re not selling any art and you haven’t hosted a gallery night in almost three years now. The few times he’s been inside your studio since Yejun, you’ve indulged his curiosity and let him look at the things you’ve worked on.

Taehyung cherishes those private moments you allow him within your space. He uses them as a time to reflect on what life has brought to you and to him. You have a shared experience of losing someone, but it’s clear you’re both working through your pain differently. Your studio, once a bright and vibrant space filled with inspiration and captured moments of love, is now more of a tomb, silent and full of the whisper of death.

Taehyung eases open the door to the columbarium. The motion-activated lights within flicker on and fill the space with a soft yellow glow. It’s better than the typical fluorescent white lights they used to use. Taehyung thinks the bright, sterile lighting is far too reminiscent of a morgue or hospital, not exactly places people should be reminded of when coming to visit their dead loved ones. So, he suggested the change when he took over doing the gardening for the cemetery.

Yejun’s niche is towards the back of the space, near the bottom. You separate yourself from Taehyung, letting the bundle of flowers droop upside down in your hand as you step lightly across the floor. You look like a specter, gliding across holy ground in search of what’s keeping you tied to this plane of existence. In many ways, Taehyung thinks that’s precisely what is happening with you. You’re suspended in time, stuck in a limbo of heartache.

In the two years since Yejun, you haven’t been able to move on, even though that’s exactly what Yejun wanted you to do. Yejun never wanted you to mourn him for long. He told Taehyung there was far too much love for you to give, and you had a heart big enough to love someone else while still holding true to Yejun. What Yejun failed to realize, Taehyung thinks, is that without Yejun, you didn’t want to love again.

Taehyung holds back a few steps, giving you some time to have a private moment as you kneel down in front of Yejun’s niche. The placard covering the niche is engraved with his name, birth and death dates, and a small metal frame that holds a glass engraved likeness of Yejun. It pains Taehyung to see the smiling face and crinkled eyes behind his wireframed glasses. Yejun was his brother in all ways, except for being born to the same parents. That didn’t matter to them, though—still doesn’t matter to Taehyung. They love—loved—each other just as fiercely as if they had been.

“Yejun,” you whimper his name, pressing a hand to the placard, head hanging low. Taehyung watches your shoulders shake with silent sobs, and he can’t take it anymore. He moves across the space and kneels down beside you, ignoring the cold that instantly leeches through the knees of his trousers. Before he can think better of it, he has his arms around you, trying to hold you together…trying to keep your seams from unraveling too fast.

Taehyung coos softly, murmuring as many words of encouragement and solace as can work past his quivering lips, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I promise. He loved you so fiercely. I miss him, too. I’m here for you. Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Over and over again, Taehyung repeats it like a mantra until your sniffles subside, and you slump into his arms, feebly returning his embrace.

Feeling your arms around him is a comfort, one that helps him keep his own tears in check. “Thank you for being here,” you sniff before burying your face in his scarf and inhaling deeply.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Taehyung offers, smoothing a hand over your hair in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. He watched Yejun console you enough times to have a good idea of what might help. After Sujin was born, you battled postpartum depression for a while, and Taehyung helped wherever he could, giving him those brief glimpses into your emotional turmoil. Yejun always petted your hair and let you ground yourself in his embrace. He never even had to say a word; just let you draw on his strength. So, Taehyung has always tried to emulate that for you whenever you’ve needed him.

You sigh, and Taehyung reluctantly lets you pull away to sit back on your heels. “I’m such a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says, capturing the side of your face in one of his hands. You sway on your knees; big, round, red-rimmed eyes locked onto his. “Never apologize to me. You’re human, not a mess. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, lips barely moving. You slowly turn, sitting with your back against Yejun’s niche.

“Okay,” Taehyung repeats, and settles in beside you. He barely notices the cold this time as it seeps through the seat of his pants. There are far too many fierce emotions rolling through him to be bothered by the chill.

“Is it okay if I read this now?” you ask after several moments of shared silence.

Taehyung looks over at you, fingering the small envelope attached to the bundle of fresh flowers he brought. He swallows past the thick knot in his throat, worried about you reading it but knowing you need to. Perhaps it’ll be best read when he’s around and not in the solitude of your apartment where you could fall apart without someone there to catch you; Taehyung knows Sujin is staying at your mother’s tonight.

He clears his throat. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“They really are beautiful,” you say, voice so soft it barely carries to Taehyung. You admire the flowers for a moment, and the anxiety Taehyung had earlier in the shop when he was wrapping them goes away. He was worried that he got the flowers wrong. He knew Yejun always brought you fresh flowers, different types for different occasions. Yejun was all about the spiritual and emotional meaning of flowers, something that Taehyung hardly paid any mind to until after.

Finally, you tug the end of the string that attaches the envelope to the flowers, and you set them to the side. The flap is tucked into the envelope, so you slide it out and remove the tri-folded parchment from within. It looks the same as it did the day Yejun gave it to Taehyung a few weeks before he died. It’s the same as all the other letters waiting in a box under Taehyung’s bed—waiting for the right moment, waiting for you.

“If you need a moment—” Taehyung begins to say, but you hold up a hand to silence him. Slowly, you unfold the paper and smooth it over your thighs. Your eyes flick over the paper, snatching on random words until they hit the name signed at the bottom.

“What is this?” you whisper, yet your voice cuts like steel. “Is this a cruel joke?” You hold the paper up for Taehyung to see. At the top, it reads ‘For if you haven’t moved on’. Taehyung can understand why you might think so.

“N-no. It’s…there’s…” Taehyung pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again. “It’s not a joke. It’s from Yejun.” The look of hurt that ghosts across your face brings a prickling heat behind Taehyung's eyes, and he has to blink them several times to hold his emotions at bay as he explains. “The letter I gave you after the funeral?” He waits until you give him a subtle nod. “This is another he gave me…along with many others.”

“Many others?” you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone.

“He wanted to leave you something, something more than just your memories and heartache. So, he spent a few weeks, before he got bad, writing letters to you. He gave them to me and made me promise I’d give them to you when the time was right. This one—” Taehyung nods toward the letter held between your fingers “—was one I wasn’t sure if I’d have to give you or not. It was one Yejun specifically said to only give you if…well, if you hadn’t started living life again.”

“Hadn’t started living life again?” You balk at that, rearing back from him with an angry look pinching your face.

Taehyung feels like he’s botching this, not explaining it properly to you or something. “Just, just please read it.” Taehyung has no idea what the letter says. He never wanted to invade Yejun’s and your privacy. He’s hoping, though, that maybe the letter might hold some key information to help you understand…to help ease your anger in a way that Taehyung’s words can’t seem to.

You stare at Taehyung for a moment, and he’s certain you’re about to spit in his face and leave him sitting here alone. But, you finally shake your head and sigh, settling back into place and focusing on the paper. Taehyung is sorely tempted to try and read over your shoulder, but he doesn’t want to further your ire. So, he slides a few inches away, opening up a wide, cold gap between the two of you…and waits.

💔💔💔

To the love of my life,   For if you haven’t moved on Hi, baby. I hope this is a letter Tae never has to give you, but if you’re reading this, then that means we’re not doing so well. I say ‘we’, because I’m still there with you. Just like I promised in my other letter. I told Tae to use his discretion on whether to ever give you this or not. He knows you nearly as well as I do, so I trust him. So, if you ever read this, know he doesn’t mean any harm by it…I don’t mean any harm by it. But, baby, you gotta start living again. At this point, I don’t know how much time will have passed since I had to go away, but I do know you can’t let much more time pass. I need you to live, my love. Live for me, live for Sujin…live for yourself. No more standing by while the world continues to spin, you have to spin with it, baby, let it carry you away, and on to better days. Please. Find something that makes you laugh, find something that makes you smile…even if it’s a someone. I know you’ll always love me. There is no doubt about that. But, don’t let that love stop you from living. Let someone in, let someone help…love again, for me. Show the world that it can’t tear you down. Go on a date, go skydiving, go to one of those fancy art galleries in Italy you used to fantasize about…just go, baby. Go and do, and be free. Don’t be afraid…please, don’t be afraid to live. Love forever, Your Yejun

The memory of the other letter, albeit a bit fuzzy, drifts through your mind as you sit and try to come to terms with how you feel at this moment. You absently trace the neat scrawl of Yejun’s handwriting covering the page. Don’t be afraid. Are you afraid? Is that it? You’ve never thought of it like that, in terms of being afraid to live. But, if you think about it, you suppose that’s the root of it. You are afraid. Afraid of moving on. What if you do find happiness? What if you do find someone else? Yejun is clear that he’s confident you’ll never forget him, but what if you do?

You don’t want to be sitting somewhere thirty years from now, with your head thrown back, laughing at the joke from some other guy, with Yejun having not crossed your mind in years. It’s not that you don’t want to be happy. You just…you don’t know.

Taehyung is sitting so quietly beside you that if you closed your eyes, you’d think you were alone. Guilt pricks against your heart at how badly you first reacted, the harsh tone and words you lashed at Taehyung where he didn’t deserve it. You clear your throat, drawing the flicker of Taehyung’s eyes in your direction.

“I’m sorry, Tae. I really am. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” The words are thick on your tongue as you work through the emotions threatening to obliterate your existence. You think you might cry, but give yourself an imaginary pat on the back when you manage to maintain eye contact with Taehyung while successfully blinking back the tears.

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working, flexing the dark stubble you can see shadowing along his jawline. It’s in this moment that you feel like you see Taehyung in a new light, with added clarity. He looks haggard, tired. You didn’t notice it before, the sunken circles around his eyes or the lack of a clean shave…until now. It’s not fair, you realize, that he has taken care of you so much the last two years when you haven’t even so much as bothered to check on how he is doing.

You’re just about to break the silence with another feeble apology when he smiles, it’s faint, but it’s there. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Yejun and I might have shared a different kind of bond than what you two had, but I have at least an inkling of the keen sting you’re feeling, the one that never quite goes away no matter what you do.” He brings a hand up and presses it to the center of his chest. “The one that slices a little deeper after the sun goes down and everyone else has gone about their lives.”

Chilled goosebumps pop up along your arms, despite the warmth from the added layer of Taehyung’s jacket. That is exactly what it feels like, a lingering sting that won’t go away, one that grows when you’re alone.

You lick your trembling lips, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing back on the letter clutched in your hand. “Yejun,” you whisper. “He—he wants…he wants me to move on.” A soft sob catches in your throat. “But, I can’t do that. How can I do that?”

Your shoulders heave as the emotions you were able to hold at bay before come crashing through the walls you managed to put up. It’s not like the weeping from earlier. That was simply the quiet cries of a mourning wife. This is bone-deep, soul-rending agony that shakes your entire body.

Taehyung pulls you into his arms, and you press your face into the cushioning of his scarf and scream. The sound is muffled, but you can still hear it echoing through the columbarium when all the air finally empties from your lungs. You try to replenish the air, sucking in stilted breaths, but it’s not enough. Panic ensues, your heart launching into a heavy, staccato rhythm as if trying to pound right out of your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung soothes. “Slow down. Try to breathe slowly.” He pulls you firmly into his lap. You’re heedless to the intimate position your body falls into with your knees on either side of his hips. All you care about is getting air into your lungs. Taehyung holds you by the face, angling yours so you look up into his worried eyes. “Come on, slow. In…out…like that, come on, another one. In and then out.” He breathes with you, exaggerating the way he inhales air through his nose and pushes it back out through his mouth.

His warm breath puffs across your face with each exhale, carrying with it the faintest sharp tinge of mint and the earthy tones of tea. Something that instantly makes you think of home. It helps bring you back to reality, slowing your rampaging heart, and subsiding your shuddering cries.

“I can’t do it,” you mumble.

“You can. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No, no. You don’t—I can’t. It’s…it’s cold in here,” you whisper, pressing a trembling hand over your heart. “No one wants that.”

A soft, sad smile forms on Taehyung’s face as he continues to stare down at you. “Good thing that I know a thing or two about keeping things warm.” He drops his hands from your face and grabs the lapels of his jacket that’s still draped over your shoulders and gives it a tug, pulling it tighter around you. You can’t help but smile, even if it’s a watery one.

“What would I do without you?” you ask, not expecting Taehyung to answer.

“You’d make it.” He sounds so sure. “I know you would, you’d do it. But, I am glad to be here, to help however I can.”

Taehyung doesn’t urge you off of his lap, just allows you to rest there with your cheek pressed over his softly beating heart, finding whatever comfort you can from the proximity of another source of warmth. His words linger there, filling the space between you with a comfortability that you know you’ll never find anywhere else. You don’t say anything else, as there isn’t much else to say. At least, not words you think you could say out loud. Not here, not now.

But, an hour later, as you’re driving home, you decide to try. So, you do something you haven’t done in a while and turn on the radio, letting the music fill the silence from before. It’s a small step, but a step nonetheless; the first of—you hope—many.

The next morning, with the light of a new day spilling through the gap between your bedroom curtains, you decide you feel…good. As you lay in bed last night, full of revelations about how you’re going to start making steps toward Yejun’s desire for you to be happy again, worry began to set in. Worry over whether or not you can do this. Now, though, you feel decidedly different—light, in a way—as you push back the blankets and climb out of bed.

With your mom having taken Sujin to school this morning, it afforded you some time to sleep in, which is something you haven’t done in years. You weren’t sure you were going to, considering how poorly you’ve been sleeping the last couple of years. It feels nice, stretching your arms over your head and not feeling as groggy for once.

There is one thing you want to do before heading to the studio, where you know you’ll probably just piddle around until it’s time to pick up Sujin, but it’s just baby steps for now. It’s not lost on you that your work, the art you create, no matter if you manage to move on or not, might still be something that you’re never able to recover. Yejun wasn’t far off when he joked about being your one true muse, but you try to remain hopeful that you can surprise yourself.

The box in the back of the closet is exactly where you left it almost two years ago. It holds some of your most treasured possessions. Things you’ve held on to dating back as far as your teen years and as recent as two years ago. You kneel in the bottom of your closet and slide the box out from behind the stack of empty shoe boxes you can’t seem to toss out.

It’s a bit faded, the blue exterior, once a brilliant navy, is now more denim in color. You’ve had the box since you were a child, given to you by your father the summer before he split from your mom. That really hurt your family, when he cut himself out of the picture without so much as an apology; he ran off with another woman. It was so hard for you to believe in love after that.

Lifting the small silvered latch, you ease open the box lid and sigh as your eyes land on the folded paper nestled on top. Yejun’s first letter. It’s the last thing you put in this box. The paper still feels crisp in your fingers as you delicately pluck it out and unfold it. You worry at your bottom lip a moment before letting your eyes devour the same words you read once before.

This time, they don’t hurt nearly as much. You still feel that piercing ache, but it’s accompanied by another, fresher feeling—one of hope. What stands out the most, now, though, is the confirmation that there are other letters waiting for you. Yejun says as much himself in this letter, you just hadn’t ever put the dots together, too distracted in your grief.

There are endless possibilities for what those other letters might be for. But, what’s clear is that you won't get another one until you do something to deserve it. Knowing Yejun, you have a few ideas of what those things might be. There is a thrill but also a sense of trepidation as you think about that. You want to move on and be happy again, and in doing so, you know you’ll get the other letters, but there’s also that sense of overwhelming dread.

Where do you begin?

You spent most of your day rearranging and organizing supplies at the studio. But, now that the sun is beyond its zenith and casting longer shadows across your paint-marked studio floor, you feel like you’ve done nothing but waste time. You still haven’t decided where to begin with Yejun’s letters and you’re no closer to coming up with an idea for your next project either.

With frustration coloring your thoughts, you lock up and welcome the reprieve of going and picking Sujin up from school. That’s one part of your life that you do know up from down with.

As you pull through the pick up line, you don’t see Sujin anywhere out front. You spot Mrs. Min ushering a few students to their cars, her friendly face sporting a smile as she does so. Her eye catches yours and she holds up a hand, rushing over to your passenger side window.

“Hi!” she says when you roll it down. “So glad I caught you before you waited too long. Sujin volunteered to help Mr. Kim with his terrarium and it’s taking a bit longer than expected. He should be out in the next fifteen minutes or so, feel free to park in the teacher’s lot or you can wait here if you’d like.”

“Mrs. Min!” a rambunctious gaggle of students call her name, requesting her assistance.

She gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, duty calls. He shouldn’t be too long!” she calls over her shoulder as she jogs towards the cluster of students beckoning her over. One of the kids has what appears to be a large diorama that they’re having a hard time carrying to their car, even with the assistance of their friends.

“Well, great,” you mumble to yourself, checking your rearview mirror and seeing a long line of cars waiting behind you.

Pulling ahead, you slip around the side of the school and pull into one of the empty teacher spots and cut the engine. You haven’t been inside the school since the parent-teacher meeting at the beginning of the year, so it wouldn’t hurt if you went inside now, it would give you a chance to peek into Sujin’s classrooms and see what he’s been up to. If it’s one thing he loves, it’s learning.

Mr. Kim and Mrs. Min have adjoining classrooms at the end of the hall for Sujin’s grade, a storage and supply closet connecting the two rooms. The door to Mrs. Min’s room is closed but the light is still on inside. You take a quick peek through the view window on the door and see colorful drawings and paper projects hanging on the wall, books scattered across a few tables, and a large container of art supplies opened on her desk. She teaches English, Reading, Art, and History while Namjoon covers Math and Science. 

The gym teacher, Mr. Jeon, startles you as he breezes through the double doors at the end of the hall that lead out to the playground. “Oh, hey! Sujin, your mom is here!” he calls, stepping back and propping the door open with the heel of his sneaker.

“Mom!” you hear Sujin’s voice sound from through the open door. “You gotta come see this!”

Mr. Jeon holds the door open for you, his face lit with a pleasant smile. “A future scientist, I’d bet,” Mr. Jeon stage-whispers as you pass him and that makes your own smile blossom further.

“What’s going on, buddy?” you ask, taking in the scene before you.

Namjoon is crouched down beside Sujin, helping him sort through a collection of rocks spread out on a sheet of plastic. There are dozens of them, all various shapes and colors.

Sujin excitedly points out a few of the large rocks. “These would be perfect to create a hiding space!” he loudly proclaims before turning his bright eyes up to you. “Mr. Kim is letting me help him choose the rocks to go into the terrarium. We’re going to get our very own class salamander! Isn’t that cool, Mom? A class dragon!”

A soft chuckle comes from Namjoon as he pivots on his heels and squints up at you, the sun catching on the thick-framed glasses that are slipping down his nose. “We had so much fun yesterday talking about the salamander that was brought into Mrs. Min’s class that I couldn’t resist. I’ve had this old aquarium sitting in my garage for years, it just seems perfect.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s really cool.”

“Sorry for keeping him,” Namjoon suddenly stands, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking contrite. “I didn’t realize the bell had rung until Jungkook said something.” He turns to Sujin who is happily stacking a few of the smaller rocks into a pile. “I think that’s all for today, Sujin. We’ll finish it up tomorrow during class.”

Sujin frowns, his warm brown eyes flicking to Namjoon. “Okay,” he sighs.

“I tell you what, for all your hard work today, how about I let you be creative director during assembly tomorrow? Does that sound okay?”

The frown is quickly replaced with another excited smile. Sujin gives a whoop of delight and slaps his hands together before dusting them off. “Thank you, Mr. Kim, that sounds amazing!”

Seeing the interaction between Namjoon and Sujin gives you an idea, one that you hope you won’t regret. “Go grab your backpack, buddy, I’ll meet you outside Mrs. Min’s room in a second.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sujin pulls open the door and scampers through, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as he skips down the hall.

“Thank you for that, Namjoon, really. He was so excited about what happened yesterday and now this? He’s been wanting a turtle for a year now, so this will be a good test on whether or not we should get one.”

Namjoon pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and grips the back of his neck as he smiles shyly, his cheeks pinking slightly. “He’s a great kid, loves to learn. Though, turtles are a bit more needy than salamanders. It would also depend on the type of turtle. The standard box turtles are…” Namjoon trails off, his brow pinching as he throws furtive glances your way. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for a science lesson.”

That makes you laugh, which seems to ease the awkward tension in Namjoon. “Sujin isn’t the only one that likes learning.” You don’t intend the words to sound flirty, but they come out that way and you can distinctly tell that Namjoon keys into that.

“Yeah?” he asks, the shyness leeching away by the second.

“Um, yeah. Er, well, I should—” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder toward the door “—Sujin is probably waiting.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Namjoon sidesteps over the plastic sheet of rocks and fumbles with the door handle before yanking it open. “Have a good—”

“Are you free Friday night?” you blurt, wincing at the rudeness of interrupting him but knowing if you don’t ask now then you’ll lose your nerve.

“Friday?” he parrots back, eyes wide behind his glasses.

Panic slices through and you immediately want to take it back. “Sorry, that was—I didn’t, it’s not appropriate is it? I’m so sor—”

“I’m free,” he states, the words silencing your backpedaling.

“Oh.” Now that he’s confirmed, you’re not sure what else to say. It’s been so long since you’ve done this.

“Is there something you wanted to do?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, clearly picking up on your trepidation.

You swallow around the choking feeling in your throat, the one that’s ingrained with the idea that you’re still married and still madly in love with another man and this is akin to cheating. “Maybe dinner? Or a late coffee? Um, or…I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

Namjoon gives you an easy smile. “Dinner sounds great. Let’s say, seven?”

“Seven is good. How about that new pizza place that opened up near the park, do you know the one?”

“I’ve had my eye on that place for weeks! That sounds perfect.”

Are you really going on a date…with Sujin’s Science teacher? “Okay,” you say, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take a few steps down the hall. “Great.”

“Great,” Namjoon confirms with a smile, his deep dimples making an appearance. “See you then.”

All you can do is nod, not trusting yourself with any more words with the influx of emotions now swirling through you. Sujin bursts through Mrs. Min’s door, his backpack and lunchbox in tow.

“Let’s go!” he trumpets, thrusting his free hand into the air in a fist. “I’ve got some homework to do before I can work on my diagram for the terrarium!”

Namjoon’s soft chuckle carries to you from down the hall as you usher Sujin towards the exit. You can’t help casting one last glance behind you, taking in the way he’s lazily leaning against the doorframe of his classroom. He’s quite handsome, there’s no arguing that.

A giddy feeling adds itself to the uncertain emotions rolling through you. A fluttering in your tummy that you haven’t felt in over seven years. You can’t help but wonder, as you load Sujin into the car, if this is really what Yejun wants for you or are you making a mistake?

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s a weird sensation when you expect to feel one emotion but end up feeling another. That’s what Taehyung thinks anyway, as he reads the text message he received from you for the dozenth time. You have a date. With Namjoon.

Taehyung has never met the quirky Science teacher, but he’s heard plenty of stories about him from Sujin. Charming, educated, and completely and utterly perfect for you. And that should make Taehyung happy. Yet, all he can feel is mild annoyance when he thinks about Namjoon sitting across from you at a dinner table making you laugh and smile.

He wants to chalk it up to being overprotective in a brotherly sort of way, but Taehyung knows better. It’s no secret—well maybe it is to you—that Taehyung cares for you deeply. Even before Yejun, Taehyung always had a soft spot for his best friend’s wife. Something that he drunkenly confessed to Yejun once a few years ago. Yejun took it goodnaturedly, something that Taehyung still thinks about to this day, and simply told Taehyung he understood the attraction because hell, who could blame him?

They never talked about it again, until the day Yejun asked Taehyung to take care of you and Sujin—the day he was given a box of letters addressed to you. Yejun had given Taehyung a knowing smile and said something along the lines of fate knowing and that’s why Taehyung already had so much love for you.

He wasn’t sure, at first, if Yejun had ever shared Taehyung’s little secret with you. But, as time went on, it was clear that he hadn’t. That, or, so lost in your grief, you’ve been keenly uninterested in that prospect. But, now, you’re going on a date and Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about it.

The twinge of jealousy in his chest doesn’t sit right with him. He has no right to feel this way. It’s just something that he can’t seem to shake, hasn’t been able to since you told him about it two days ago. So, instead of expressing that, he forces himself to try and share in your joy.

That’s great. Let me know when you’re home, I have something for you.

A letter perhaps??

Your eager reply makes him smile despite himself. If anything, that helps his mood to improve. The ‘first date’ letter is already sitting on his counter, waiting.

Perhaps. Now stop texting me and go have fun.

There is no reply to that. So, Taehyung waits patiently, phone in hand. Hours pass in a mindless, sluggish way. He’s far too wound up to do anything productive but also has nervous energy that needs to be released. So, Taehyung spends the four hours it takes for you to finally respond by squeaking out haphazard notes on the alto saxophone he’s taken to trying to learn to play.

His phone lights up where it sits on the coffee table and he nearly drops the instrument in his haste to snatch up the device.

I’m home.

That’s all it says and it makes Taehyung frown. Not that he expected you to tell him how the date went over text message, but he was anticipating something more than just those two words. He is startled to realize just how late it is, though, being past eleven already.

Is it too late? I can always just swing by tomorrow.

Sujin is staying with mom. It’s not too late.

Taehyung is contemplating his reply when another text from you pops up that makes him drop everything else and grab his car keys, not caring it’ll be close to midnight by the time he pulls up outside your apartment. It was a knee-jerk reaction to also grab the letter that was sitting beside his keys, but now he’s thinking about whether or not it’s a good idea.

Those thoughts quickly fade as he focuses on the road, intent on reaching your apartment in record time. His phone sits on the passenger seat, still open to your text thread, the single word might as well be an alarm blaring to Taehyung, urging him on faster.

Please.

💔💔💔

As soon as you send the last text message you want to take it back. Not only do you feel whiny, but you know Taehyung will drop everything and come over which makes you feel terrible and like you’re using him.

But, fuck. The date was so horrible all you want to do is crawl into familiar, comforting arms and cry yourself to sleep. You’re about to pour your third glass of wine when there is a sudden knock on the door, followed by it swinging open. Taehyung stands there with your spare key in his hand, eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless as he clearly sprinted up the stairs to get here and now you feel infinitely worse for it.

You shake your head which earns you a pained sound from Taehyung but you hold up your hand, silencing him. “I’m not shaking my head no as in no I’m not fine, it’s more a I’m such a fool head shake. I’m sorry, Tae. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything, I just—”

“I’m glad you said something. What happened? Do I need to go pay a certain science teacher a visit?” For all his bravado, you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you said yes.

“No, no. It’s not his fault. Well, not entirely. Look, I’m sorry you drove all the way over here.” You discard the empty wine glass in favor of taking a large glug directly from the bottle.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung says, deftly taking the bottle from your hands before you have the chance to take a second gulp from it. “Stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was a fucking disaster.”

If Taehyung is surprised by your cussing, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he stills beside you, brow slowly pinching and forming deep furrows between them. “Did he hurt you?” he whispers, but his tone is cold and hard. “I’ll kill him.”

“What? What, oh no, Tae, no. He didn’t hurt me, god no.” You sigh, propping your hip against the lip of the counter and wrapping your arms around your middle. “He was lovely, actually. I was the disaster. Or maybe we were. I don’t know, it was just a terrible night. A terrible idea.”

“Talk to me about it,” Taehyung encourages, his hands landing lightly on your shoulders to steer you toward the couch in the living room.

So, you spend the next hour recounting all the horrid details for him. Everything from the way Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about rocks and mineralized dirt to the way he tried to kiss you at the end of the night only for you to duck and him to lose his balance, effectively making him face plant into the brick wall of your apartment building.

“See, it was a terrible idea,” you lament, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Taehyung hums softly. “It doesn’t sound like a complete disaster to me. Namjoon was polite, even if he did nothing but talk about his own interests. Did you try changing the subject, or did he ask about you and you gave a dismissive answer?” You give Taehyung an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you have the tendency to avoid things like that. So, it’s only meant as a means to try and understand. Maybe it can be better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” You throw up your hands in defeat. “He said he had a lovely time, but I could see it plain on his face, he was just trying to be nice. He left with a bloody napkin pressed against his mouth for crying out loud!”

“Well, maybe he really—”

“But, most of all,” you continue, speaking over Taehyung, “I didn’t have a good time. I don’t want to do it again. It didn’t make me happy.”

That seems to subdue Taehyung. “Oh,” he says, nodding slowly. “Well, okay, that’s different.”

“I’m broken, defective.”

Taehyung scoffs, giving you a withering look a moment before dragging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. “You’re not defective. You’re human. All this proves is that maybe the science teacher isn’t the guy for you. Simply just a lack of…chemistry.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bad joke. “You’re terrible,” you say in a lighter tone, meant to tease more than chastise. “But, you’re right, I guess. I just…this was the first date I’ve been on in a long time and it all went so horribly. It’s hard not to think that I somehow messed up, that I’m just…not right, just broken, y’know?” Taehyung’s eyes are soft as you look up at him, trying hard not to let yourself grow too accustomed to the comforting feel of his arms around your shoulders.

“You are perfect, most certainly not broken,” he whispers. You watch from beneath your lashes as a small crease etches across his forehead and you can tell he’s warring with himself over something before he slowly presses a soft kiss against the side of your head. “You just have to give yourself grace. I’m proud of you.” As he says that last part, he gently pulls back, hands resting on your shoulders. His right hand trails down your arm and you feel the soft caress of paper against the back of your hand. “Yejun would be proud of you, too, taking as big of a step as you have, I just know it.”

The envelope is small, but you instantly recognize the shape and feel of the paper. It’s just like the one you got earlier this week��like the one from two years ago. “Should I wait to read it?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“I’ll leave if you’d like some privacy.”

And in that moment you realize that’s the last thing you want. “No, please stay. Umm, that is, unless you have something to do.” It’s after midnight, the sour twist of jealousy rears as you think of everything that could possibly take Taehyung away at this hour. You tamp it down, knowing you have no right to keep him here, regardless. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Taehyung’s lip twitches as you wait for him to answer. He shakes his head. “No, I have nothing else to do. I can’t promise I won’t end up crashing on your couch, though,” he says, stifling a yawn in his elbow before lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching out. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out over Taehyung’s legs before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. Taehyung shifts around the blanket with his feet, making sure the other end covers your legs as well.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he sighs sleepily. “I just want to make you happy.”

You’re not sure if he misspoke, because surely he meant only that he wants to see you happy. Because, as it is, him saying he wants to make you happy…well, that does something funny to you. Though, you can probably blame that on the terrible date with Namjoon or the half a bottle of wine you drank. Either way, you can’t help but smile as you look at Taehyung laying on the other end of your couch, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling with deep, even breathing.

You take a moment, running back over the date with Namjoon in your head, fingers idly moving along the edge of the envelope. It started out so nicely, Namjoon standing outside your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. They made your nose itch and your eyes water a bit from how overly fragrant they were—clearly some mass grown clippings from a supermarket—but you smiled anyway, appreciating the gesture.

Dinner was lovely, the new restaurant proving to be worth the drive and money spent. It’s perhaps your own fault for thinking Namjoon might pay for the meal and it didn’t hurt you any to pay for your own, but it felt oddly…impersonal? Less like a date and more like a business meeting or something. You’re not too old to be naive in the sense that women are just as capable of paying for dinner as men, as well as the fact that men shouldn’t hold the complete burden of expense on dates. It’s just…it was unusual and he didn’t even bring it up, simply told the waiter to split the check before it was brought.

It’s not helped by the fact that Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about work or soil deposits. And perhaps Taehyung was at least half right in the fact that you didn’t put forth a lot of effort to change the subject, but the way you see it, if Namjoon was interested in knowing about you, he would have asked. Though, is that expecting too much? Are you being too harsh? Maybe you’re projecting and Namjoon really wasn’t that bad.

Before you can continue to spiral any further, you force your thoughts to the letter in your hand. Hoping it’ll put your ill heart at ease, you extract the folded parchment and smooth it out.

To the love of my life,             For after your first date Hi, baby. First, I want to say that I love you. Second, I hope he at least made you smile. If he didn’t bring you flowers or even those cheap ones from the supermarket, don’t think too much of it. I’ll let you in on a little guy secret, not all of us are well versed on flora and even less so on women. Even if it didn’t go so well, though I hope it did, you can’t give up. Go on another date, with the same person or someone else, you just can’t stop now. Take as many adventures as you can, do something spontaneous. You never did take that dance class you wanted to a few years ago. Paint, travel, explore the world. Take Sujin to places we never got to go. Just don’t stop, keep turning, even if it’s slowly. I’m so proud of you, you know? No matter what, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it. I can’t wait to see all you do. You’re going to be wonderful. You’re amazing, keep shining, baby. I love you so much. Forever With You, Your Yejun

Tucking the letter against your heart, you snuggle down in the couch, mind racing. You feel lighter somehow, like Yejun’s words have given you far more affirmation than you thought possible. The terrible date doesn’t seem so disastrous now.

“You okay?”

You startle at the soft question, thinking Taehyung was fast asleep. His eyes are barely cracked open, peering at you over his bent, blanket-covered knees.

“Mm, yeah. I think so,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Good…good,” Taehyung murmurs, his eyes falling shut once more.

“Hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take a moment to truly see him, the soft light from the stand lamp on the other side of the room illuminating him in profile. The soft curve of his cheek, the delicate slope of his nose, and the pouty bow of his lips aren’t new features, but you’re not sure you’ve ever truly paid attention to how breathtakingly handsome he is.

“Will you help me?”

Taehyung’s lips twitch as a mild frown turns down his lips. “Help you?”

“With whatever comes next.”

“Whatever you need, I’m yours,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his frown. You watch him for a moment longer, his lips going even softer as the smile fades with sleep. His chest rises and falls, your eyes tracking the motion in the dim lighting until you feel the pull of sleep yourself. Taehyung is the last thing you see before you close your eyes, and for the first time in over two years, you sleep peacefully; with a subtle warmth blooming in your chest where once there was only cold.

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist  

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-03-18 ColorMePurplex2

[ladydisharmony]

fluttercord fanfic snippet :)

some context:

so, i’ve started re-writing bride of discord. arguably the most popular fluttercord fanfiction to date, written by DisneyFanatic2364. i grew up anticipating each episode of the audio drama; i loved it. however, rewatching it (as i’ve done multiple times to torture myself) has made me realize it has not aged well at all. discord’s characterization, the lack of actual chemistry between him and fluttershy and the constant weight of their circumstances, applespike, among other things range from uncomfortable to problematic. because of this, i’ve wanted to take the plot and mold it into something that fixes those issues as well as divulge more into the characters and their feelings.

i haven’t actually read the fanfic (before i continue this i want to read through it one time, to be fair), i’ve only consumed the audio drama, but considering how poorly the characters (most notably discord) are written in the audio drama i can’t image there is much more i’m missing. no hate necessarily, DF just isn’t, or wasn’t, the most skilled writer in my opinion. as a warning, i’m no author either, but i find joy in writing from time to time and i do think i have something of substance.

in my re-write, i have fluttershy taking interest in discord in his hiding period. i think it makes it more interesting that her fear subsides and is replaced by a want to learn about him and where he came from. it gives her a personal incentive to accept his deal without her feeling like she has to because she has no other choice. she doesn’t really want to marry him, but she isn’t being tormented by him after his disappearance nor is she completely miserable in her stay at his estate.

speaking of the deal, when asking for a bride, discord doesn’t really intend to take the marriage seriously. i’m still considering if i want him to ask for this out of hopes one of the elements will come forward, or if he just narrow its down, saying that one of the elements has to “give themselves up”. either way he hopes to ensure or IS ensuring the keeping of their word when they say they won’t use the elements against him. there isn’t a wedding or anything of that nature, that’s too boring. the proposal is them being married and then fluttershy is just someone living in his house that he has to feed sometimes. i want her to still have contact with her friends in some way. discord doesn’t want any conspiring, so either letters or a ‘one person at a time’ visitor rule.

just two of the changes i’m making still working it out but that’s some of my base ideas . if yall have any suggestions i’d love to hear them as im open to critiques or any other ideas, tho there is no guarantee ill adapt to them.

without further ado, here is the snippet. if yall like it enough i’ll continue and publish the chapter :)

➽───────────────❥

The Chaos dimension had made a great home for Discord the last year. It had everything he could possibly need, save anyone to torment. That wouldn’t be an issue soon, however. The Lord of Chaos had been lying low in his little window outside of reality, waiting for the right time to reintroduce himself. he was growing bored of waiting. Discord admired himself in his living room mirror. It was upside down and attached to the wall at an angle, leaving it crooked and ineffective as a floor-length mirror. He was looking at his upside down reflection when it started betraying his movements.

“Can you *please* find something else to do when you’re thinking,” his reflection crossed it’s arms over it’s chest and outstretches its neck, pushing it through the glass threshold effortlessly, “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me.”

Discord rolled his eyes as his reflection-Who he deemed ‘Secondcord’- pulled itself from the mirror completely. “Well you know me, I have an affinity for the chaotic and strange,” he teased his doppelgänger with an un-serious smirk on his face, stepping out of it’s way as it glided to the floor. “Speaking of chaos, I believe my time to shine is closely approaching.” Discord stepped closer to himself, bringing his eagle claw to tap Secondcord’s nose.

“The Gala?” It swatted his hand away, “how clever to pop up on them while their energy is focused elsewhere. That is, until you consider they still bare their elements and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh please, I evaded them before-”

“Narrowly. You evaded them narrowly.”

“So I know what to look for! Flashing lights, a big rainbow. That’s not hard to miss. Besides, the plan I’ve been concocting should save me from having to worry about the elements at all!” He falls back and motions his paw, a lawn chair appearing to break his fall. With a snap, a wine glass rests in his palm. Secondcord watched unamused as he took a sip.

“Oh, a plan to deactivate the elements? Do tell! Seeing as your magic is *completely* ineffective in removing them from their bearers I’d love to know how you plan to do so. I sure do hope that whatever that hamster brain of yours is thinking is more permanent than reversing their personalities.” It picked at it’s talon claws, pretending to find them interesting, “Perhaps you’ll encase *them* in stone? Or maybe turn them into wooden puppets, unable to make their own decisions. Oh, I know! You’ll turn the six lapdogs into beautiful paintings and hang them above your mantel. How cruel, to make them watch you have all the fun from above your ‘waterplace’.” He looked to the aforementioned ‘waterplace’, wiggling his fingers. Red water spouted from wooden logs like a backwards waterfall, up into a never-ending chimney.

“Well if you’d stop listening to the sound of your own voice, I’ll tell you.” Discord’s eyes are closed as he takes another sip, then hums. “Although, I do like the sound of that last idea. Maybe I’ll store it away for Lady Loyalty.” He sat like he was a woman suntanning at the beach trying to seduce the person of her affections, “Or maybe for you? it would certainly save me from your sarcastic remarks.” As he takes a third sip of his wine, it’s apparent that the amount of liquid in the glass is unchanged.

“The plan,” Secondcord barked, sick of Discord’s tendency to dance around every single thing he was trying to say.

“Oh you buzzkill, I can never poke fun with you. *Fine*. I’ll strike a deal or two with them.” Secondcord furrowed his brow and lifted his head at his counterparts words, egging him to go on. “I can’t touch their elements, no, but i *can* make it to where they can’t use them. I’ve taken Twilight’s horn before and I can take it again, this time I’ll only give it back if they promise to not use the elements in return.” He lifted himself from the lawn chair, both it and his drink disappearing in a puff of smoke. He began to pace, miscellaneous sounds coming with each of his footsteps. “I have a few other cards up my sleeve, but that’s to be played out.”

Secondcord tilted his head and feigned disinterest, but his amused smile was apparent. “Well, I suppose it’s a step up from you last attempt, I’ll give you that.”

➽───────────────❥

[justmeinadaze]

Good Neighbors Part 7 (Steddie X Reader) 

A/N: "Hi friend! Idk if ur taking requests but i had this thought for your neighbors fic. What if reader is either really fucking stressed out or just one day not wanting to fuck both of them so she either asks or it just happens where she makes "love" to eddie. Like its sweet and gentle but steve happens to see and notices the difference but eddie and reader assure him it was a 1 time thing. Maybe the following week she makes "love" to steve a day when hes really stressed out. Again just a thought i had. ☺️ -Anon" This request came at a perfect time because I had started writing one thing but then got stuck so THANK YOU FRIEND! I hope this does your request justice :)

Warnings: Steddie relationship and all that that implies (I regret nothing), Charlie is a big dick in this one. He does threaten the reader and snap at Dylan but protective Steddie is there <3

Word Count: 4709

Dylan hops down from his father’s truck and slams the door. His tiny eyebrows furrow together as he pouts, walking past you, and up the stairs to your apartment without saying a word. 

“He’s got an attitude today.” Charlie whines as he gestures towards him. 

“What happened?”

“Why do you assume something happened? He’s just being a pain in the ass.”

“Because this,” you point towards your home, “is not normal behavior for him. Not when he’s with me at least.” Charlie rolls his eyes as he turns to open his car door. “Has your lawyer talked to you yet?”

He pauses, turning back to face you. “No? Why?”

You swallow, preparing for his reaction. “My lawyer and I submitted a request for sole custody.”

Charlie chuckles under his breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You don’t follow the schedule and every time it breaks his heart. I’m not going to allow you to hurt that little boy anymore.” 

“He’s my son.”, he growls.

“You always get so upset when we have this conversation but you never act like you care when it’s your time. You bailed on him your last weekend, he went to the hospital and you didn’t even answer your phone! Now he comes back like this? I just—”

He reaches out abruptly, grabbing your arm and pulling you to his chest. “I’m not going to let you take him from me. I don’t care what I have to do.”

You try and pull yourself from his grasp but he just grips you tighter. “Let me go, Charlie.”

“Do you really think this is something you can win? I’m in a house, have a steady job, stable relationship.” You scoff as you keep trying to wiggle free. “What do you have? I’ll give you one chance to correct your mistake. If you don’t, I swear to God, Y/N, I will make you regret it.”

It happened almost in the blink of an eye. One moment your ex is threating you and the next he’s on the concrete, bleeding from his nose with Eddie in front of you. 

Charlie tries to rise to his feet but Eddie pushes him back down with his boot. “You better count your blessings that my friend is at work because if he saw you grabbing her like that? Whew, now that’s something to regret.” He reaches down and lifts your ex up by his collar to his feet, shoving him towards his truck. “Now I can’t guarantee he still won’t beat your ass so if I were you, I would leave.”

You both watch him as he climbs clumsily into his car and skids out of the parking lot. Eddie turns around as soon as he’s out of sight immediately checking on you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m ok. What made you come down here?”

“You son stormed into the apartment without saying hi like he usually does and then you weren’t with him.”

“Eddie, you can’t tell Steve.” He looks at you like you just told him the sky was purple. “Seriously. He will be pissed.”

“Yeah, he will. Come on, let’s not worry about that right now.”

When you and Eddie entered your apartment, you found Dylan in his room. He was laying on his side on his bed holding one of his stuffed animals. You gently curled up behind him, moving his hair out of his face. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his tiny head. “Okay. Do you want me to leave you alone?” Again, he said no, but he rolled over, encircling his arms around you. “I love you.”

####################

After Dylan goes to bed that night, you search for Eddie to find he isn’t still in the apartment. When you open their door, you hear music coming from his room. You find the metalhead sitting on his bed, cigarette in his mouth as he strums his guitar. 

“Hey Sweetheart. Kid okay?” 

“Yeah, he said his dad left him at his grandmothers all weekend and yelled at him not to tell me.” You huff under your breath as you sit beside him, stealing the cigarette from his lips as you inhale the smoke. “You didn’t have to leave.”

“I know. I just thought he would prefer being alone with his mom.”

“Ow.” You flinch as Eddie accidently bumps your arm with the guitar.

“Oh my god…” You glance down to see what Eddie’s looking at. Your arm where Charlie had grabbed you was turning a nice shade of purple where his fingers had pressed into your skin. 

Eddie takes a picture of it with his phone before exiting his room and coming back with an ice pack.

“I didn’t realize he grabbed me that hard.”

“Has he ever done anything like this before?”, Eddie asks as he gently holds the pack to your arm. 

“It’s rare but yeah. It’s his go to intimidation tactic if being in your personal space doesn’t work. His stepfather used to do it to him.” 

“Has he ever…?”

“No! God, no. I would kill him if he ever did anything like that to Dylan.” 

You saw that sad look in his eyes that broke your heart. You leaned over placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie silently nods. ““What did you want when you were his age? Did you want your dad around?”

Eddie leans back as he lets out a long, deep exhale. “Honestly? I just wanted my dad leave me alone.”

“What if someone had come into your life and said ‘Come with me. I’m going to take you away and you’ll be happy but you just won’t see your dad as much if at all’?”

“Well, Sweetheart, that did happen for me.”

You felt extremely stupid all of the sudden. Eddie had told you that before and you two had talked about it many times. About how he went to live with his uncle after his dad was sent to prison but you never made that connection to your own situation. Yeah, Charlie wasn’t out stealing cars or doing other crimes but he was fairly absent for most of Dylan’s life. He never really seemed to care until his back was against the wall and you challenged him. 

Eddie smiled, placing his palm on top of your hand. “Do you remember what I said to you that one night on the steps out here? Steve and I never had a mom like you. You care about Dylan and his well-being. My life got better after my dad was out of it but I do wish my mother had done more. If you think it’s in his best interest to be away from his dad for right now then it is what it is, you know?”

“I hate that you had to experience that.”

Your hand reaches out to bring his mouth to yours again and this time Eddie deepens it, sliding his tongue past your teeth to reach your own. He leans back against his pillows bringing you with him as you straddle his waist. You reach down hastily pulling at his belt buckle and unbuttoning his pants. He lifts his hips to help you pull them down as his cock springs free.

He rolls you over on to your back and dips his fingers into your waistband, pulling your pants with your panties down your legs. Eddie’s lips trailed up your body pausing at your stomach as he lifted your shirt over your head. Your fingers reached up and grazed over his tattoos. 

He grins as he reaches your hand tenderly kissing your fingertips before throwing your arm over his shoulder. You giggle as you wrap the other one over his shoulder and around his neck. Your pussy flutters as you watch Eddie spit in his hand, reaching down to pump his cock a few times before guiding himself into your entrance. 

His head fell into the nook of your neck as he started trusting into you. It was at that moment that you realized this was probably the third time in your relationship with the two of them that Eddie was in front of you, not behind you. You had honestly never thought about it was just how they both usually ended up. 

You gently pull at his hair forcing him to lift his head. “I, mmmmm, I want to see your face. Please.” He swallowed down a moan as he nodded, eyes glancing over every part of your face. 

You two were so entranced into each other you didn’t hear the front door open or the footsteps stomp down the hall. 

Eddie’s pace started to pick up as he thrust into you harder and deeper. You mouth opened as you silently moaned, arching your back. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You smile as your hooded eyes become harder to keep open. Wrapping your legs around his waist you push him further into you till he’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “I’m…I’m going to cum.”

You pressed your forehead into his as the coil in your belly snapped and you repeated his name against his lips. Eddie’s body shivered above you as his hips sputtered and he released his seed inside of you. You softly pressed your lips to his. 

“You look so good when you cum. I love you.”

He smiles as he continues to pant, trying to catch his breath. “I love you to.”

Steve’s throat clears, startling you both. You grab your chest as Eddie rolls on to his back. “Jesus Christ! I’m buy you both bells to wear so I can hear you coming.” You and Eddie laugh but Steve just stands there leaning against the doorframe looking over you and his friend. 

“How’s Dylan? Eddie told me what happened.”

You glare at Eddie as he lights a cigarette. “Traitor.”

“What? He has a right to know.”

“He’s okay. Still upset but better than when he came home.”

He strides over and looks at your arm. “Charlie do that to you?”

You reach for his hand but he pulls it away. “Um, yeah. Eddie took a picture for my lawyer.”

“Oh, it looks like Eddie did a lot more than that.”

You and the other boy turn to look at Steve. Eddie scoffs as he climbs out of bed and into his bathroom, shutting the door. 

“What’s wrong, Steve?” He folds his arms across his chest defensively. “No. Don’t shut down and turn into my seven-year-old. Talk to me.”

He points to the bed. “How many times has that happened?”

“This is the first time. We were talking about Charlie and Eddie’s dad… it just kind of…” You look up at him as his eyes boar down into yours. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales deeply as his chest rises and falls. “No.”

“Tell that to your face.” Eddie comes out of the bathroom wearing a new pair of boxers. 

Steve scowls in his roommate’s direction as he turns on his heels, heading for his room, and slamming the door. You feel a gentle tap on your shoulder as Eddie hands you your pants and what you recognize as one of Steve’s t-shirts. 

“Do you want me to walk you back to your apartment?” You glance at Steve’s door. “It’s best to leave him alone when he gets like this.” You quickly put on the clothes that are given to you, heading for the door. You give Eddie a hug and he kisses the top of your head. 

#################

For the next couple of days everything is quiet; too quiet. You text both boys but Steve never replies. Eddie’s been swapped at work, picking up extra hours where he can. When he comes home he’s exhausted. You cook meals for them and Dylan but Steve never comes home before your in bed. Eddie promises to save him some, leaving leftovers in the fridge. 

“Mommy. Can we rent a movie tonight?”

You were on your way home that Friday evening after picking up Dylan from school. “Sure. What do you want to watch?”

“No not rent from the tv. Can we go to Steve’s store?”

Your heart cracked at his request. “Yeah, baby. We can go to Family Video.”

He claps his hands in the backseat. “I miss him. We haven’t seen him in forever!”

You blink back the tears that try to push their way through. “I miss him to.”

The little bell above the door rings as you both walk through the store’s entrance. Steve is behind the counter leaning against it as he watches a movie on the tv. Dylan calls his name and his head whips in his direction. 

“Hey dude!” He meets your son halfway, lifting him in his arms. 

A pretty girl comes up beside Steve and shakes Dylan’s foot. “Who’s this?”

“This is the little man that lives across from me.”

“Ooooh.” She extends her hand to Dylan, who reaches out and shakes it. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Robin.” She turns to face you. “Which would make you Y/N.”

You smile at her as you shake her hand as well. “Yeah, weirdo here said he wanted to rent a movie tonight.”

“Hey, we got some new kids movies in. You want to see?”

Dylan giggles as he takes Robin’s hand and they walk towards the other end of the store. Steve clears his throat as he walks past you, heading back towards his place behind the counter. You quickly grab his arm. 

“Steve. Please. We miss you. I miss you. You know I hate when you act like I don’t exist.” You look down at your shoes. “I swear Eddie and I… that’s the first time we’ve ever done anything without you there.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?!”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.” You watch him as his body stiffens and he crosses his arms again, shielding himself. “Steve, please. I don’t understand. It’s not fair to me or Eddie. Just tell me what you’re feeling. Talk to me—”

“You’ve never looked at me the way you looked at him!”

Steve looked around, grabbing your hand as he pulled you towards the backroom. “Robin, can you keep an eye on him for a minute?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Steve, what are you talking about? I love you both.” The words come out of your mouth before he even shuts the door. “I love you as much as I love Eddie.”

“I watched you two. The way you moan, touched him, spoke to him…it was different than when you know I’m there.”

“Baby…” You reach out and caress his cheek. “What time do you get off?”

Steve looks at his watch. “About thirty minutes. Why?”

“Eddie’s spending time with Wayne tonight. You can come over and have dinner with us. After Dylan goes to bed, you and I can talk. Maybe get some alone time.”

He smirks slightly as a heavy sigh leaves his body. You wrap your arms around him, inhaling his cologne. “I missed you so much.”

You feel his own arms wind around you as his fingers come up to tangle in your hair, pressing your head to his chest. “I missed you to.”

#################

“Hey daddy.”

You freeze at the top of the stairs outside your apartment. Charlie is leaning against the wall with papers in his hand. He looks furious. You cautiously walk towards the front door, opening it, and gently pushing Dylan inside. 

You paint what you hope is a believable smile on your face. “Hey, why don’t you go change and get ready for dinner while I talk to your dad.”

He looks between the both of you. “Mom…”

“Hey! You heard her! Get inside!” Dylan jumped as Charlie snapped at him. You reach out and reassuringly run your fingers in his hair down to his small cheeks. You ex reaches past you and slams the door shut. 

“Don’t talk to him like that.”

“I warned you. This?” He holds up the papers his lawyer had given him. “This was the worst mistake you ever made. You’ll be lucky if you see that kid once year if at all when I’m done with you.”

You straightened you back, trying to convey confidence. “Leave. Now.”

He moves forward backing you against the wall. “Or what? I know your neighbors aren’t here. Even if they were—”

“You’d run like the little bitch that you are?”

Charlie’s hand flies past your face slamming violently into the surface behind you. You flinch as he chuckles. “Always bark but never any bite.”

You suddenly shove him with the intention of running into your apartment and locking the door but as you begin your sprint you smack into something hard. Steve steps around you, placing you behind him. You feel yourself shrink behind his back; thankful he was there. 

“Leave. Now.” He echoed your previous words. His tone came out strong and authoritative. 

Charlie made a move like he was going to punch him but he slid back out of the way returning his own punch that connected with your ex’s mouth. Steve tilted his head as he looked down at him. “I can see from your nose that my roommate already warned you once so I won’t bother doing it again.”

He reached down, lifting Charlie up by the arm, and threw him against the wall by the stairs. “I think it’s safe to say for the time being you are not allowed anywhere near Y/N or Dylan.”

“You can’t do that, Y/N. We have a court order.”

Steve moves his body so he’s blocking you from your ex’s field of view. “No, no. You’re talking to me now. Given the fact that you hurt her last time you were here and you haven’t spent any time with him in the last two weekends you had him… She’s within her rights.”

Charlie tried to push Steve off of him but Steve was stronger, connecting his fist again with his face. “Now your son is inside and if I know that kid he’s probably listening. That’s the only reason I’m not tearing you in half for putting your hands on his mother but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow you to keep speaking to her the way you are. Now, say goodbye to Y/N nicely and get the fuck out of here.”

He spits blood in Steve’s direction and in return Steve slapped him causing Charlie to fall to the floor. Your protector backed away from him until he felt your hands lightly grip the back of his shirt. Your ex rose to his feet, collecting the paperwork that had been tossed aside in the chaos. He started to move towards the both of you but when Steve took a confident stride forward, Charlie turned and stomped down the stairs towards the parking lot. 

Steve turned to face you and you fall into his chest, clinging to him. “Thank you.” You pull away from him quickly knowing you only have a short window of time. Reaching forward you zip up his jacket covering the blood that had landed there. Right as you were straightening up your own appearance the front door opened slowly. 

“Mommy?”

“Hey Weirdo. Look who I found.” You point to Steve who smiles gently over at him. 

His little eyes widen as he looks around. “Did Dad leave?”

“He did.” Steve walked over to him kneeling down to get on his level. “I came up when he was talking to your mom. He saw my hand and gasped, running away when I told him what happened!”

Dylan reaches for Steve’s blood-stained hand, inspecting it. “What did happen?”

“After you guys left the store, this HUGE creature came in and tried to take Robin! I had to fight him with only these two hands. I need Robin. I’m not going to run a store all by myself. Pfft.” You son giggles at his story. 

“Mom has a kit. We can help!” Dylan pulls Steve inside your apartment as you follow closing the door behind you. 

You disappear into your bathroom and come back with your first aid kit. You sit down at the table lifting Dylan on to it as Steve sits across from you. You gently clean the mess away before pouring some anti septic on a cotton ball and rubbing it against the cuts on his knuckles. 

He jumps over dramatically, startling Dylan. “I’m just kidding.” He beams over at you as you flash him your trademark nose scrunch. As you start to wrap his hand in gauze, your son stops you. 

“Mommy! Wait, you forgot.”

It takes you a minute before you realize what he’s talking about. “Oh honey, I don’t think that works for adults.” He looks at you with a pleading expression. You playfully roll your eyes as you bring the back of Steve’s hand to up lips, placing small kiss along his cuts.

“Happy?”

“Well, I’m glad Little Man mentioned it. I feel better already.” He winks at Dylan as your son turns to you giving you a cocky smile. 

####################

After putting Dylan to bed, you retreat to your bedroom as you close the door, leaning against it. 

“You okay?”, Steve asks from his place on your bed. You shake your head as you crawl in next him. He slides down so his head is on your pillow as you rest your own on his chest. “How much did he hear?”

“Pretty much everything until you showed up. He asked me if he had to go live with him. I told him no. Steve, he looked so relieved.” His lips delicately kissed your forehead as he held you tighter to him. You lifted your head, leaning down to connect your mouth to his. 

“You and Eddie are fundamentally different—”

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about this tonight.” Steve starts to sit up but you push him back with your hand. 

“Please? When it’s the three of us together I feel complete. I really do. You’re both so sweet, funny, fucking gorgeous,” he chuckles at your words. “So, when I notice a difference…I want to know more. Both your little quarks make you more beautiful to me. When Eddie was making love to me, I realized there had only been a handful of times he had been front of me. To finally really be able to focus on his face and his features… it felt like I was having sex with him for the first time.”

You trace your thumb over his lips. “I was going to suggest you and I get some time to ourselves but then everything happened—”

“I got mad.”, Steve interrupted. “I didn’t even give you guys a chance to talk to me.”

You nod your head flashing him a small smile. “Yeah. You’re a bit more ‘jump first, ask questions later’ kind of angry person.” He looks away guilty making your smile grow. “It’s ok. I can be that way to. Eddie’s more of a ‘I’m going to let my anger leak through with sass’. His is more annoying.” You both laugh.

Steve leans up, rolling you on to your back as his fingers softly glide over your body. 

You bring his lips to yours, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hold him to you. Usually, Steve’s kisses felt more determined and slightly hastened but as he kissed you now it was slower with an eager intensity as if he was tasting you for the first time and couldn’t get enough. 

His hand drifted into the waistband of your shorts. As his mouth travelled along your jaw and down to your neck, his fingers pressed against your panty covered clit making you moan his name. You grab his hand before flipping him over onto his back as you straddle his waist. 

You place tender kisses along his lips and neck until you reach the shell of his ear. “I missed you so much. I need to feel you.” Your hips start grinding against his. “Please, Steve. Make love to me.” The sound that left his mouth before he craned his neck to connect his lips with yours again was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard.

Steve threw off his shirt, tugging his pants and boxers off, and dropping them to the floor. You had only managed to remove your own shorts and panties before he was pulling you on top of him again. Reaching between your bodies, you took him in your hand, placing the tip at your entrance before slowly sliding yourself down on to his cock.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, watching his face as you felt him bottom out. His eyes were completely blown as his mouth opened in a silent “O”. Steve’s hands gripped your hips as you began bouncing on top of him. Pressing your forehead on to his, you whimpered above him as his hips thrust up to meet yours. Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning his name into the small kisses you placed on his lips. 

Steve’s hands reached up to move your hair out of your face. “Hey. Look at me.” You opened your heavy eyes to his gorgeous smile. “There you go, baby. There are those beautiful eyes.” His thumbs gently grazed your cheeks as he pulled you down for another passionate kiss. 

“Steve, I’m—” He nods his head, his nose brushing against yours as he feels your pussy tightening around him. “Will you cum with me?”

He leans himself up into a sitting position, placing his hands on your ass, guiding you as you cling your arms around him. You bury your face in his shoulder to silence moans as the ball in your stomach drops and you cum hard against him. Steve continues moving your hips until you hear him grunt in your neck as his arms wrap around you, filling you up as he releases. 

He falls back against the pillow and you fall with him dropping to his side. 

“I see what you mean now. It’s different but in a good way.” Steve rolls over to his side facing you.

“I like when it’s the three of us but I like this to.”

He leans over to kiss your forehead before twisting his back to grab your shorts off the floor. “There’s a kid in the apartment.” He winks at you as you giggle. Steve pulls on some shorts, turning off the lights as he crawls back into bed with you. You both laid there talking for a while when you heard your front door open and a couple of moments later so did your bedroom door. 

“Oh my god. I am having a terrible influence on you people. Go to bed!” Eddie sneaks in and jumps into the bed behind you. You roll to face him and Steve automatically pushes himself closer to you being your big spoon. 

“How did you know we were here?”

“Well Sweetheart I think I would have figured it out if I went to our apartment and no one was there.” You scrunch your nose and he boops it with his index finger. “Steve texted me. He also told me what happened.” Eddie grabs Steve’s hand inspecting it as if he can see through your first aid. “You ok?”

You nod your head. “Dylan was upset for a bit but he’s doing better.”

“What about you, Stevie? Are you okay?”

When Steve doesn’t answer, you turn to look at him only to find he’s fallen asleep. Eddie shakes his head as he laughs. “Man can fall asleep like that,” he snaps his fingers, “I swear.”

You smile over at him as gets under the covers and reaches out to hold the hand that isn’t currently holding Steves. “He’s ok. I can’t say the same for Charlie though.”

“Eh fuck him. We don’t care how he is.” You chuckle as he laughs with you. He watches your eye lids slowly close as sleep starts to take over. Eddie leans over, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before lying back and crashing himself. ########

@adequate-superstar @strangerthings1983fan

@decadentwombatmiracle @local-stoner-bitch

@steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@actuallyspencerreid @moviefreak1205

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore

@damon-loves-pie @k-k0129 @micheledawn1975

@sidthedollface2

[yandere-sins]

So I thought I’d give a little life-update as there’s a lot going on at the moment and I think it’s visible on my blog as well. Maybe the positives first:

I do really like my new work, I like that I have set hours (even if I do overtime here and there) and though it got incredible stressful the last few weeks, I think the four people that work in my office space are the coolest in the whole company and I love the support I am getting, it’s something I always wanted for my work-life tbh! My dog is also doing very fine, she’s really a total sweetheart and I wouldn’t know what to do without her, and at least I, myself, am doing pretty okay-ish physically, so nothing to complain there.

Now to the negatives.

Unfortunately, my mom’s cancer returned but is quite hard to pinpoint. She went back to an even more aggressive chemotherapy and we’re hoping for the best. Honestly, I don’t wish cancer on anyone, it’s such a tough battle and even just as the primary caretaker it’s been really hard to deal with for me, luckily I have grandparents and a brother who all deal with it and help and support, so that’s good! My mental health though is suffering. It’s biting my own butt now, but I cancelled therapy to focus on work at the beginning of this year and now my therapist is fully booked, so I will have to sit out this month probably. I am telling that because that’s the reason I am struggling with concentrating on one thing for a long time, which includes writing, which explains the fluctuation of posts you are seeing, since I try to get requests and drafts done on the weekend when there’s less stress. Sadly only works like 30% of the time...

Going forward I have decided to indefinitely pause commissions. I have noticed that they put too much pressure with the deadline and expectancy on me when I am already struggling and sometimes need a day to myself. I can’t say when they’ll come back, but thank you all so much for your interest and support, it’s always a pleasure to write your ideas and I never had a bad experience with commission ♥

Good news for Mermay: it’s still happening! ... buuuut I am shortening the story I came up with. I think I was too ambitious with the three routes I teased, so I am trying to figure out how to ensure that it won’t drag out as much as Atreo’s story last year. Unfortunately, the start will be delayed some more, but we were going to celebrate Mer-June anyway, so at this point it probably doesn’t make as much difference (’:

Because the question arose a few times already, I will not be playing Honkai Star Rail. It has a few reasons, but the main one is I don’t have the time. Sorry to everyone who asked about it, but it’s just not the right time for me at the moment! ): I’ll probably be miserable again later when everyone has moved on to it and I am stuck behind but I have to make cuts somewhere ;;

I actually have some commissions and requests that I haven’t released yet, so I will try to schedule some of these in the meantime while I work out how to go about stuff. If you’ve been around for a while you probably know I like routines that’s why it’s always important for me to build them and keep them up. Other than that, I’ll probably focus on Mermay and my own writing projects which will happen rather irregularly. No guarantees on posting, sadly ):

I do realize tho that it just isn’t always possible to keep up frequency of posts and interactions I had when I started this blog, as much as it saddens me. I have to prioritze my real life before my internet presence (and I really need to not feel guilty about taking breaks from everything ever so often ;;), so if you see me vanishing for a few days, it’s just that really.

Thank you everyone who stuck around and supports this blog ♥ There’s another big milestone coming up veeery soon and I am always in awe that so many people would stay to read my silly little stories!! If you have some time and don’t mind waiting for a response, I’m always happy to chat and answer questions, so please don’t hesitate to hit me up!

Thanks everyone ♥

[the-present-is-a-gift-au]

Chapter 8: A Letter from Kip

Dear Twig,

I’m glad you found a home so fast, and in somewhere that sounds like such a perfect place to live. I was worried when you said you wanted to move out, but Verdant Village seems like a perfect place to stay for the time being.

Lyra really does sound like a duplicate of Manaphy— and I can’t believe that she idolizes you so much! The way you wrote about her reminded me of how I acted around Dusknoir as a kid. How does it feel to be the Great Twig, huh? 

Speaking of Dusknoir, he said it’s been a while since you paid them a visit. Tell them I said hi when you do! I know I’m keeping up a letter writing rapport with them, but Dusknoir is the slowest letter writer ever. He seems like he thinks a letter needs to be a running summary of every event to happen while I’m gone, and I’m pretty sure he waits until something interesting happens to send one. Apparently one of the sableye is thinking of moving out of the Future and into the Present. I think his name was Jasper, or maybe Jet? Maybe Tourmaline? I’ll check. I have a hard time keeping their names straight.

I just checked his last letter— it’s Jet who wants to move. I think Dusknoir’s happier about the idea than he lets on. We might be getting a new addition to the Future Trio soon— what should we rename them? Future Quartet? The Future Four? I know you hate that the nickname you made up for them stuck, but it's so much easier than saying all their names one after the other. You were a genius to start it. 

Speaking of you unknowingly being a genius, yes, you have a small fortune stored away. I thought you knew! I’m sure Poké is a pretty different currency from what humans had, but I thought you would’ve picked up that four million is kind of a big number. You never bought anything, and your favorite hobby was going on expeditions, so you were kinda built to travel the path of becoming disgustingly rich. Why do you think I always asked you to pay when we stopped by Spinda’s Cafe? 

Please put that money to good use and stop living like a bachelor. You said you felt like Gardevoir was judging your decor, and I can almost guarantee it. You stuck an old wanted poster of Grovyle up in Sharpedo Bluff that one time when we were redoing the whole layout and called it good. I love you, but you do not have an eye for interior design. 

My team has been really helping me get the ropes on this new unit of study— Aipom is a whiz when it comes to digs, and Darmanitan is the most amazing tutor anyone could ask for. Spearow reminds me of Loudred in the weirdest of ways. You were right about giving up on doing the work myself and just asking for help. It’s so much easier to get done when I rely on people. You were always trying to get me to understand that, and it’s never been more obvious than it has been now. 

Pay the Future Trio a visit and tell Dusknoir he’s old for me. I miss them, and I miss you. 

Write back soon.

— Kip

[mobscene-london]

MOB SCENE ADVENT CALENDAR: DAY ONE.

All right, so this particular writing event is a little throwback to some vintage Mob Scene, and it’s quickly become a London tradition, too! I would like to first start off by thanking and crediting Lia, as it was originally her idea many years ago. ♥

The event is still going to be called ‘Mistletoe’ because I’m not creative.

THE GENERAL IDEA:

For every character you play, you get a piece of mistletoe.

Each piece of mistletoe gives you the chance to nominate a couple–any two taken characters in the group–to meet underneath it.

The players behind the couples will write out the interaction of a mistletoe moment, and you will get to watch it unfold. Many will likely have to be written in an AU format, because I know you people are going to be extra as fuck about this, but the players involved do have the option to make it canon if they so wish (be it in the present, or something that happened in the past.)

THE RULES:

Please read them, because many of you are notoriously bad at doing so.

To select your couple of choice, just send the word ’Mistletoe’ to the main page, followed by the two names, and I will add it to the list. If the couple has already been suggested, I may prompt you to send another to get a more even spread.

You can send your nominations in straight away.

If you play multiple characters, you may send them in all in one message.

Nominations don’t have to be in character. You’re choosing. That said, if you want to have fun with that, you absolutely can. It’ll give me a chuckle.

Nominations must be off anonymous, so I know that you’re only picking one couple per character played. That being said, I’ll be the only one who knows which couple you’ve picked, so it will be anonymous in that sense.

Any format is acceptable. Whether you want to gif chat, do a joint-drabble/self para, mini-paras or a full-blown novel, all is good. Whatever you have time for.

Please don’t nominate a couple that includes your own character, vain bitches.

Please try to get involved! It’s not compulsory, but it’s a bit of fun, and I’ll be kind of disappointed if you don’t bother. If for some reason you really are opposed to the idea of your character being involved, however, send me a message as soon as possible and we can make it known. It’s not a problem. I just want everyone to be happy and comfortable with what’s going on.

When the list of couples is posted, if you have too many characters nominated and you don’t think you’ll be able to keep up, just let me know! There’s no need to feel pressured. This is just some fun, and you shouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

Lastly, after I post the list of nominated couples, if your characters aren’t amongst those selected and you would still like to be involved, I will pick a partner for you! Don’t be afraid to come forward if you didn’t get nominated but wanted to be, and remember not to take it personally. With limited numbers of selections, we can’t guarantee that everyone will be picked. Remember, I know you people and know this is going to turn into massive fucking trolling, so it’s not a dig.

Please like this post when you’ve read it.

The closing date is Wednesday December 6th, but I would recommend getting them in as soon as possible so we have longer to write the drabbles/interactions/whatever they might be. The closing date for the interactions themselves, however, will be New Year’s Eve.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

HAPPY NOMINATING!

[birdstooth]

📌Hello everyone

This is a news bulletin that I will be back soon with a few changes to the posting schedule 😌

I think I got overexcited and then burnt out w doing the daily poto doodles so now will prob make them 2x per week… but I’ve been writing out ideas and most of them are for like, longer comics so ya actually idk what I was trying to say here tbh lol

Also, ✨New and Improved Doodle Policy:✨

I want to keep the requests open, but avoid the anxiety that comes with not being able to follow through or not feeling the inspo. (To be clear, there was never any external pressure tbh, everyone is always extremely kind with the requests but I just have an anxious personality lmao).

So they will stay open but the disclaimer is: I can’t guarantee I will do all of them… Pls don’t be sad if u don’t see your doodle right away!! If I can’t think of how to draw it I’ll still keep it in the file (ie. it won’t be deleted) or I will post it with some thoughts in case someone else sees it and wants to give it a crack. 💛

Ty everyone for understanding 🙏

I was reading the hungry caterpillar today btw 🐛

[thejournalisttintin]

Based on the results of my last poll, I think I will share the ideas I have for future Tintin fan stories that I will probably post here, or on any fanfic website you can find me on.

Right now, I only have a Fanfiction.net account. I also have Wattpad and Ao3 accounts, but I haven’t posted to them yet. And they’re due for that.

Fanfiction.net account: SkyDragon2996

Wattpad: AdventurousDragon (cristis29)

Archive Of Our Own: TheAdventureNerd1996

I can’t guarantee on which of these sites I’ll upload each fanfic…

And keep in mind that a lot of my fan stories will be written works. I’d have the strength to do all of them as comics, but I’m reserving that for my short comic stories, as well as my main comic project The Mystery of the Violet Ibis. Because I write more than I draw…

But I will occasionally draw or animate a fanart based on these stories. I’ve done it with my own fanfictions, and I intend to do the same for these.

With all that trouble out of the way, here are my ideas for potential Tintin fan stories:

...

Chang's Visit (working title): Tintin is excited to learn that Chang will be visiting Brussels during a cultural exchange in college. When he finally arrives, Chang is surprised to learn that Tintin has a twin brother, and Captain Haddock has a daughter. So what else is new? And during Chang's stay, Tintin soon realizes that he might have...feelings for him.

The Monster Within (working title): Tintin and Chang meet Angela, whom they soon realize is the only child of Roberto Rastapopoulos. At first, Tintin is reluctant to help, owing to his history with Rastapopoulos. But he and Chang must do everything they can to keep Angela hidden from sinister characters that are trying to capture her.

Camellia in the Rough (working title): Tintin is called to Japan to help a policeman investigate a mysterious drug ring that is responsible for attacks on rural and provincial cities, as well as a series of kidnappings. But a sudden bombing attack leaves Tintin, Chang, and their friends stranded on opposite sides of the city. Will they find a way to return to each other?

The Witch of Londonderry: During a trip to Ireland with Haddock, Elodie, and Chang, Tintin and Martin go undercover disguised as students at an all-girls' Catholic school to investigate a series of unexplained supernatural occurrences. But this investigation quickly turns into a nightmare when students start disappearing and several others begin to behave erratically. Is the school haunted? Or is it a cover up for something even worse? (This is gonna be a Tintin Dressing in Drag story. And Martin's involved as well, so the two of them are dressing in drag!)

These are just a few ideas I have in mind. The reason I have "working title" in most of them are because I'm still thinking of a better title.

Story ideas and advice for these stories are always welcome!

If you'd like to suggest a story idea, or give me advice on any of these, you can either drop an ask, reply to this post, or chat with me privately!

Also note: I might update this post if I do come up with other ideas for fan stories. So be on the lookout for that!

[lothedon]

Hiatus Thoughts Part 1

1. Go see a doctor. Preferably a black female doctor but go see a doctor. I recommend Dr. Sabrina Williams.

2. I’m finally getting help with my ADD. 🥂 Here’s to better focus.

3. “Anniversary Reaction” is a real thing. Mentally you may think you’re past it but your body has its own memory.

4. At this big old age, I still hate needles. POKE-ahontas got my blood work done as SOON as I sat down. Barely a connection or nothing, Jeezus. She was smooth with it too. Quick & no pain. Great work POKE-ianna. Just sweet talk me a little before you put it in, aight!? 🤝

5. Ear worm: Thotianna Cardi B & YG remix

6. I LOVE BEING AN AUNTIE!!!!!

7. I want Indy to stop going viral for the WRONG reasons. WE make the wrong shit go viral.

8. The Last of Us is FINALLY a movie! 🙌🏽

9. I want to lose 14 pounds before Pardi Gras Ball.

10. My favorites songs from Drake’s “Honestly Never mind” are ‘Jimmy Crooks’ & ‘Calling My Name’. There were other good ones but those are my “go-tos”.

11. Sweet Nothing - Calvin Harris (Diplo + Grand Theft Auto Remix)

12. I need workout gloves.

13. Back work outs are my favorite! I want a sexy back 😜

14. Making sure my nieces & great nieces hear Destiny’s Child’s “Writing On The Wall” is imperative. My nephew needs to hear it cause he’s a natural musician.

15. I need to attend some theater plays.

16. Venus in Pisces requires us to spend more time recognizing our emotions, enforcing boundaries, & receiving love. 🥰

17. One thing I loved about myself in my early 20’s is that I marched to the beat of my own drum music wise. On a regular, I didn’t listen to what’s popular with those around me. You’re guaranteed to hear something new.

18. My goal is decorate my room & bathroom to be like an expensive hotel & spa.

19. I need a full time job that I love.

20. This book about boundaries is bomb. The beginning of chapter 5 lets me know a conservative white man is writing it though 😒.

21. Focalin got my hunger suppressed like a mug! No more random snacking.

22. 👉🏽Results are always in the work we avoid.

23. Twerking over Squats. I’m working these thighs at all the parties/events I attend. I need to be twerking for at least a good HOUR!

24. 👉🏽Success is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm.

25. IM SO HAPPY TO BE BACK ON MY THYROID MEDS!!!

26. This tetanus shot is IRRITATING! 😣

27. I’m contemplating going back short & blonde 😩

28. Ain’t nobody engaged with me or reach out since I deleted the app. Ain’t no point in me having the app anymore. I put too much effort into engaging with folks for them to not want to engage with me. Time to become more exclusive.

29. Eargasm: Broken Clocks - Sza

30. Marc Jacobs need to come out with mini backpacks 😒

31. Progress. My legs are not shaking while skating.

32. Adding skating to my workout regime.

33. Feminine & Flirty.

34. Playing video games until 3am is a lot 😫

35. WHY IS MINECRAFT SO BORING???

36. Everybody needs to get back on Tumblr

37. Hopped on FB for a zip, did a quick scroll, & remembered why I need to keep the app deleted. Smh Too Much.

38. I’m about to just get a regular degular job somewhere. I’m tired of the emotional roller coaster with these jobs.

39. Sit ups/Crunches in variations REALLY makes a difference in one week with your normal work out. 🤯

40. I’m not even vegan but Tabitha is about to get all my coins.

41. I really miss the EDM & Hip Hop days.

42. I can’t date a man that doesn’t prioritize his sleep. You don’t care about your health at all.

43. Before I get back active on FB I need to unfollow a BUNCH of folks for various reason. The only way I’ll be happy online is if I see stuff that makes me happy.

44. 👉🏽Anger lets us know our boundaries have been violated.

45. The Lat Pulldowns gonna slim this waist. 😜

46. I want y’all to stop walking up on peoples cars unless you asking for help because it’s an emergency.

47. Stop paying non-existent debts with folks & do what’s best for you!

48. So y’all going to Target in robes and house shoes????

49. 👉🏽 Sometimes the answer is in the process. - Megan Brooks

50. 👉🏽 Proof of desire is in the pursuit. - Megan Brooks

51. I know Vasa is all the rave but what I do love about Planet fitness is that when I go, it ain’t packed.

52. NOT EMILY IN PARIS CALLED INDIANAPOLIS BORING????😫😂

53. Emily In Paris makes me want to move to another city SO BAD! Or at least travel & stay for a week 😭

54. Got my STD/STI/HIV test results back & they were all negative/non-reactive. 🎉🙌🏽🤩

55. Emily in Paris IS the “Sex In The City” -ish show I needed.

56. If I can get my vitamin D levels elevated in normal range I can lose weight, get rid of my asthma, calm my allergies, & have better focus. 🙌🏽🤩

57. I’m really gonna lose this weight & get the breast reduction. I want to go down to a C cup.

58. Before I die, I have to see Paris, France.

59. Who is this fine caramel man in Emily In Paris???😍

60. 2023 = Overdressed, Mix Match Print, Polished, Out The Box, Head Turning, Main Character, Neutrals & Pop Of Color/Colorful

61. For every sandal/heel purchase I must buy a tennis shoe. Build your sneaker collection.

62. Black, Brown, Purple, Cobalt Blue, Green, Orange, Dusty Pink, White, Navy, Yellow, Red (order in that order). For every black version order the color version. For every color version order black.

63. The Husband & Wife of Mielle Organics are still the CEO & COO of the company. They have NOT stepped away from the brand.

64. Can someone bring Fabulous back to Indy? He’s my favorite toxic.

65. This year I’m twerking to Back That Thang Up Juve every time I hear it.

66. Emily In Paris gives me “Sex In The City” + “Devil Wears Prada”.

67. I’ll never forget how “Go DJ” by Cash Money Records had y’all in a chokehold in middle school.

68. If Erykah Badu had “punk” or “goth” baby it would be Rico Nasty.

69. I wonder if the offspring of Vietnam veterans that were effect by Agent Orange are the ones who also have ADHD & Autism as well. (Of course not all people with ADHD & Autism)

70. Done is good. Good is extra. Completion over Perfection! For people with ADHD it’s better to half ass it & get it done versus never starting due to procrastination/fear of not doing it perfect!

71. If you want to see some black father & son content, watch 2Chainz & his some on YouTube as well as another black father & son duo called Daddy Seed. I’m here for the black father & son content.

72. I also love the black man luxury self care content too.

73. I’m learning to not be afraid to ask the “stupid” questions. And to ask people to be patient with me.

74. Yagi World is giving me Baby Phat track suit popularity trend in the early 2000s.

75. Not being apart of anything going on with the NBA ALL STAR 2024 makes me feel like I’m not enough or haven’t done enough. Personally, I’ve been feeling both simultaneously for years & I think I’ve had enough. Im ready to let it all go & pivot to the nothing related to marketing, PR, communications, ……nothing. Im 31 going on 32. I’ve been working in this since I was in college around the age of 21. Altogether 10 years. I have nothing to show for & no more doors are opening. It’s just not in me or for me anymore. I quit.

76. I hope to be out of town All Star Weekend. I don’t even want to be in the city. Hell I hope to have moved out the city.

77. I think I’ve been fighting depression and it’s caught me.

78. Mental Healness on Tik Tok is a great guy. It’s refreshing to see a black male open up about his mental illness to help others. He is a diagnosed narcissist & has so many men & women in his comments who has narcissism that are getting help because of him.

79. Values over goals. Ex:. Instead of “I will work out 3-5x a week.” You will say “I value movement. I value being pain free in basic tasks such as walking. I value energy. I value an able body.”

80. I want to go on a cruise for NYE 2024.

81. Prostate cancer is on the rise due to low testing. Fellas start getting tested as early as 40.

82. Beyoncé - “Church Girl” should be played more often.

83. It takes one day to get married but a lifetime to stay married.

84. I got all y’all looking at my story to see this light chick with the big butt. With the amount of attention y’all ran to my story with, I don’t want to hear y’all say anything about chicks who get BBLS, wear make up, &/or brighten their skin. YALL LIKE THAT VISUAL! 🤷🏽‍♀️

85. I’m unfriending a lot of men when I get back on Facebook. If we not family, genuine friends, you’re not inspiring me, we not hunching, or making money together….then I don’t see the point of remaining Facebook friends.

86. I may be single but I ain’t out here physically fighting a significant other. 🙌🏽

87. Everyone should watch “Bao” & “Red panda” 🥹

88. I LOVE BEING AN AUNTIE!🥰

89. Stop having relationship conversations with people you’d never consider dating or that are not on the same wave length as you. You’re wasting your energy.

90. I feel some type of way about the “hot Cheetos girl” trend in Tik Tok.

91. RIP Grandma Holla 🙏🏾

92. Teaching kids to set boundaries, how to respect other people’s boundaries, & supporting them while they are practicing is important. It is also important for them to watch YOU set boundaries, respect other people’s boundaries, & see you receive support from your tribe.

93. “It’s clear that I’m not feeling you & you not feeling me. On the G, what comes after A? Just let that let that Nigga B.” - Freaky T

94. Sunday is not a rest day from the gym or from moving the body.

95. Go watch “Shadow In The Cloud” on Hulu.

96. I got new bras! 🎉

97. If they make you anxious when they’re around then they don’t need to be around. Id have to say that is one time I realize my anxiety was actually the way my body is telling me something is wrong.

98. 🔑 “Sometimes your point is in your silence.” - Megan Brooks

99. “High value but no core values.” 🚫👎🏽

100. “Drake wants a Ayesha Curry but is Drake a Steph Curry!?” - KnoForSure Podcasts

[berf-a-smurf]

This morning, I was dreading work and had two voices in my mind.

The familiar pessimist - the negative, scared, shy voice I’ve always had; and a new, bubbly, reasonable voice of hope who’s been manifesting through my therapy journey.

“I’m running late and there will be so many techs waiting for things and there’s so much to do today. We just woke up and I’m already overwhelmed,” Pessimism drawls, “can we hide away today?”

“No it’ll be great, our work friends are there and we’ll take things a step at a time! Let’s go anyway!” Hope retorted with compassion.

Pessimism: “…”

Hope: *puts arm around Pessimism*

Pessimism: “I really don’t think I can do this.”

Hope comforted Pessimism: “I’ll be here with you. Trust me, we can do this.”

And so my little flame of hope won out and I went into work.

I got the weekend paperwork dealt with from when my coworker did Saturday freight and then helped that same coworker find some parts for one of our techs. Things felt like a normal, groggy Monday morning.

“We’re doing it!” Said Hope. “Things aren’t so bad!”

On my way back to my desk, my manager asked me to see him upstairs. I finished what I was doing and headed up.

Pessimism: “we’re getting written up for being late!”

Hope: “no it might just be a quick one-on-one to check up.”

Pessimism: “no I really don’t think it could be that easy. We told our lead that we struggle with early mornings but they changed our shift anyway. Management doesn’t believe us. We’re not ‘holding up our end of the bargain’ and they’re upset.”

Hope replies “well let’s just see. Whatever it is, we can’t shy away. Hold a neutral expression and we’ll process whatever comes as best we can.”

I opened the door and my manager was surprised I came up so soon. He jumped right in and said they’re terminating my employment effective immediately. He probably would’ve softened it if I didn’t catch him off guard. But it hit like a truck. I held my neutral expression.

“I fucking knew it” slammed Pessimism. “I saw this shit coming this morning.”

Hope stayed quiet. There was no hope as my work life fell apart in front of me.

My manager turned his laptop to reveal another member of management on screen. She talked me through stuff, which I can’t remember now, before mentioning my manager would escort me out of the building.

And so he did. I handed my company things in and we shook hands outside the door.

I drove away and realized I still had one key left on my personal key ring so I circled the block and handed it to him.

One of my work friends came out and gave me a hug.

I left again.

I went to one of the suppliers who was my fave to pick up parts from to ask if they’d have room in the budget for an extra set of hands. I can drop off a resume but there’s no guarantee. I understand it’s sudden and I didn’t expect an answer this morning. I will drop off a resume today or tomorrow. Hope kinda perked up because they’re good people and wants to work there.

I came home. Pessimism unloaded on poor Hope. “I FUCKING TOLD YOU I FUCKING TOLD YOU I FUCKING TOLD YOU! THIS IS THE REASON WE DON’T GET OPTIMISTIC! THIS IS WORSE THAN WHAT EVEN *I* WAS EXPECTING. WE OPERATE ON THINKING ABOUT THE BAD AND GETTING WORSE. THAT’S HOW IT’S ALWAYS BEEN AND THAT’S HOW IT’LL ALWAYS BE.”

Hope shrunk. She held back tears.

Pessimism said everything and retreated quietly. I haven’t heard from either of them since. I’m numb and still processing. My groggy mess of memories from this morning keep replaying like a scratched DVD. I’m writing this to try to cope.

Fuck sakes. When will it be different? I’ve been working so hard. /.\

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END

[wildelydawn]

KimChay Thoughts Part III: The Tables Have Turned.

Okay, coming at you with more unfiltered KimChay thoughts; my apologies if this is disorganized.

I’ll be repeating some stuff from previous posts, but I hope not to get too long winded.

First, the scene in which Kim is writing music establishes another contrast between him and Vegas (which I initially discussed in this post.) Vegas is not letting a few guns in his face keep him from trying to further manipulate Porsche. He’s not even letting a jail cell keep them apart. He will absolutely break Porsche out of prison, hit on Pete, and everything else under the sun to progress his mission of destroying the main family. 

In contrast, Kim cannot stay focused. In episode 8, Kim swears he’s done with investigating the brothers. He stops answering Porchay’s calls because that’s his half-hearted attempt to break things off, to let Porchay down (but let him down gently because Kim is emotionally invested.) Porchay sings to him, and Kim (to our knowledge) doesn’t give Porchay any feedback on his song in an attempt to keep that distance from someone who shouldn’t matter to him. Kim is trying to salvage his initial purpose: focus on protecting his family. He can’t get distracted any longer; he must go back to the two roots, the two sure things in his life: music (his passion) and the mafia family (his obligation.)

Unfortunately, episode 9 shows us that this return to roots is not possible for Kim. In a weird way, I’m both a little happy and mad that some of my predictions came true: the first being he cannot protect his family. Kinn is, allegedly, taking Tawan’s word over Porsche’s (and we know that Kim could not find any grounds to distrust Porsche). Kinn is, allegedly (if we assume his actions are not part of his grand master plan to manipulate Tawan and find the mole) in a vulnerable spot that Kim is unaware of. Kim has failed. His family is coming apart, and his brother is in danger.

The second is that music is no longer the same for Kim. We see this as he reflects back on Barcode’s song in order to create music again. At this point, he needs Porchay as a person, as a muse, as even a lover. Music is no longer the same without Porchay, which is going to lead to some devastating consequences for Kim and Porchay since all of this was rooted in mafia business. 

Which is why this post is titled as The Tables have Turned. Look at Kim, who possibly planned to further manipulate Porchay by making him write a love song (and perhaps to also deepen Porchay’s feelings for him), who is now using Porchay as his inspiration. Is he writing a love song? No guarantee but, oh, how the tables have turned. In my opinion, the ruse is up as soon as he needs to think about Porchay to make music. Kim has temporarily abandoned his mission to just exist alongside Porchay, which is a dangerous thing to do since Porchay is now involved with the mafia, which is entirely Kim’s fault.

Now, with the scene in which Porchay is making the pick, we see that Porchay is patient. He tries to stay that way. Porchay waits for an answer, but being an absolute gremlin and with true big dick energy, he then demands an answer as he gifts Kim with the handmade pick.

Kim reciprocates. He kisses Porchay and hugs him. In a way this is both failure and success. 

The failure: Here’s a picture of a man who realizes his ploy is over. That’s he’s in too deep; now, he's the one under someone else’s thumb. That he’s done exactly what his father has warned them not to do: to get emotionally involved with chess pieces. Here’s a picture of a man who realizes his next actions are going to devastate this boy, tear himself and his muse apart. Here’s a picture of a man who can no longer protect his family because of his own emotions. 

The success: Here’s a picture of a man who realizes his ploy is over. That he’s in too deep; now, he’s so enamored by this person that his defenses are down, and he’s okay with that vulnerability. Here’s a picture of a man who has temporarily forgotten he’s a mafia kid. That he can have a normal life with a normal relationship. That he can sit around and make music and think of his muse. Here’s a picture of a man who is tense, hesitant, but relieved.

Why is Kim relieved? Well, because he could never make the first move. Kim’s simply not in the position to do that. So Porchay does it for him, and he’s so goddamn happy and relieved and excited because more often than not, Kim is struck speechless by Porchay (i.e.: finding the shrine, getting serenaded, receiving the pick). So much so that instead of speaking, he moves into kiss Porchay’s cheek. And even though we can see some hesitation, some worry as he hugs Porchay, he’s still somewhat happy because he succeeded: he’s in love, and it’s pure, with no strings, no demands, no interference (as of now.)

So. Future predictions? This happiness of Kim’s will not last; it’s not meant to last for a character like Kim. A character like Kim, in a family like his, cannot possibly stay in the shadows and only emerge when he wants to. He can’t pick and choose what parts of Mafia Life he participates in (his little murder investigation with Porchay has proven this tenfold.) Porchay, in true Porchay methodology and chaos, will demand answers from Kim, and Kim will not be able to fend off those questions. Kim is about to learn that he cannot protect his family and the consequences that entails on his family's business, and worst of all, he probably cannot protect Porchay, his muse, either, and he will have to face the consequences that has on his heart. And it’s his fault.

[mobscene-london]

MOB SCENE ADVENT CALENDAR: DAY ONE.

All right, so this particular writing event is a little throwback to some vintage Mob Scene, and it’s quickly become a London tradition, too! I would like to first start off by thanking and crediting Lia, as it was originally her idea many years ago. ♥

The event is still going to be called ‘Mistletoe’ because I’m not creative.

THE GENERAL IDEA:

For every character you play, you get a piece of mistletoe.

Each piece of mistletoe gives you the chance to nominate a couple–any two taken characters in the group–to meet underneath it.

The players behind the couples will write out the interaction of a mistletoe moment, and you will get to watch it unfold. Many will likely have to be written in an AU format, because I know you people are going to be extra as fuck about this, but the players involved do have the option to make it canon if they so wish (be it in the present, or something that happened in the past.)

THE RULES:

Please read them, because many of you are notoriously bad at doing so.

To select your couple of choice, just send the word ’Mistletoe’ to the main page, followed by the two names, and I will add it to the list. If the couple has already been suggested, I may prompt you to send another to get a more even spread.

You can send your nominations in straight away.

If you play multiple characters, you may send them in all in one message.

Nominations don’t have to be in character. You’re choosing. That said, if you want to have fun with that, you absolutely can. It’ll give me a chuckle.

Nominations must be off anonymous, so I know that you’re only picking one couple per character played. That being said, I’ll be the only one who knows which couple you’ve picked, so it will be anonymous in that sense.

Any format is acceptable. Whether you want to gif chat, do a joint-drabble/self para, mini-paras or a full-blown novel, all is good. Whatever you have time for.

Please don’t nominate a couple that includes your own character, vain bitches.

Please try to get involved! It’s not compulsory, but it’s a bit of fun, and I’ll be kind of disappointed if you don’t bother. If for some reason you really are opposed to the idea of your character being involved, however, send me a message as soon as possible and we can make it known. It’s not a problem. I just want everyone to be happy and comfortable with what’s going on.

When the list of couples is posted, if you have too many characters nominated and you don’t think you’ll be able to keep up, just let me know! There’s no need to feel pressured. This is just some fun, and you shouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

Lastly, after I post the list of nominated couples, if your characters aren’t amongst those selected and you would still like to be involved, I will pick a partner for you! Don’t be afraid to come forward if you didn’t get nominated but wanted to be, and remember not to take it personally. With limited numbers of selections, we can’t guarantee that everyone will be picked. Remember, I know you people and know this is going to turn into massive fucking trolling, so it’s not a dig.

Please like this post when you’ve read it.

The closing dates for the nominations will be posted in the coming days, but I would recommend getting them in as soon as possible so we have longer to write the drabbles/interactions/whatever they might be. The closing date for the interactions themselves, however, will be New Year’s Eve.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

HAPPY NOMINATING!

[cas-kingdom]

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s fine!”

"No, no, don’t worry—” You put your hands up, making sure Clint could see you as he went to put his hearing aid in— “it’s fine.”

Clint seemed to falter for a moment, his hand clasped around the small device, but at your reassuring smile, he sat back against the couch. If any member of his family had walked into the living room at gone midnight after a busy, loud day of Thanksgiving celebrations, he wouldn’t have even reached for his hearing aid, comfortable enough to communicate silently. Though he wasn’t ill at ease with you, you hadn’t seen each other much since Tony’s funeral, and he often contemplated how you might act around him when he was impaired in a way he hadn’t been in the years you’d been together at the Compound. It was a subconscious thing, really, not wanting to make it awkward for you more than for him. But your relaxed countenance as you walked towards the couch soothed him.

He scooted over automatically and you sat down, curling your legs beneath you. You tapped his thigh and then the back of your wrist when he turned to look at you. “Why are you awake?” you asked quietly, making sure to enunciate your words.

Clint breathed a short laugh at that. “Uh, can’t sleep,” he said with a shrug. “It happens.”

You smiled and nodded in understanding. You’d come to the Bartons’ farmhouse for Thanksgiving, leaving Bucky with Sam at their behest and, really, your relief. Though you loved the guys, you spent most days with them now that you and Bucky had moved to Louisiana, and you’d missed the familiarity of life before the blip. Clint had invited you over and you’d gone willingly, grateful for any chance you could get to weave the threads of your old life into the threads of this one. You and Bruce met up regularly for coffee now. Thor held lavish parties in New Asgard that he practically forced you to attend. You and Peter had grown closer in your shared grief over Tony, oftentimes lying together on roofs and talking about everything which reminded you of a childhood you’d been pushed from. 

Clint, however, had been less reachable. Though he’d never said, you’d always figured you were a slightly unwelcome nudge in the direction of a past Clint would rather forget. He had a beautiful family and he’d been desperately trying to keep them safe and in one piece, and though he knew more than anything that you would never jeopardise that, it was still something he was working on. Thankfully, you understood, and you were patient enough to let him do what he needed to work life out. This invite had been a step in the right direction, at least.

“How about you?” Clint asked, and you shrugged as he had.

“Can’t sleep,” you said slowly, allowing him to read your lips. Clint chuckled and lifted an arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

“Life of the ex-Avengers, huh?” he breathed out, not at all in amusement. He felt the rumble of a sigh against him and rubbed your upper arm, leaning his head to rest on top of yours. “Kid...I’m sorry for not inviting you over soon. I just...I’ve been so caught up—”

You shook your head, not moving to sit up but reaching to take his hand in yours and squeeze lightly. You didn’t reply because you knew he wouldn’t hear, but felt it was enough to sit with him for a while in the silence and assure him that he was no longer alone.

Even you needed that sometimes.

Avengers Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[simpscripts]

Sevika the Matchmaker

A/n: cute little Drabble I thought of. Will be writing more oneshots similar to this and maybe a hint of smut here and there so follow for more!

Sevika has long passed the point of keeping track of this never ending situation between you and Silco. It was bad enough all that time ago when it was just a little spark and the inner circle had to consistently deal with your bouncing heel, clammy hands, and stuttering that echoed out into your work. Then they all had to deal with the inconsistent moods of Silco whenever you were out on missions, with a guarantee someone left the boss’s office with shrapnel sticking out of them. The grand kicker of it all was watching the two of you have the same bright idea of dumping it all on her.

Which is how she now found herself for the fiftieth time in a row in her usual corner booth watching the tight piece of ass she had on her arm slip away from the table. Sevika growled and looked down at your frame drunkly laid across her shoulder sobbing.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself? I’ve worked for him for years and can’t even look him in the eyes. He has such pretty eyes” you’re slurring increased with every word.

“Uh huh” Sevika gruffs out. She could care less especially with the echo of Silco’s own words parroting yours just days ago muttering about your dumbass eyes.

Hands clenching constantly resisting the urge the violently throw you off her shoulder, knowing exactly what the consequence is. So instead she’s doomed to live in this never ending purgatory of drunk blubbering from you and annoyed rants from her boss. Scoffing as the thought of Jinx’s company being preferable right about now flashes briefly in her mind.

Snapping out of her thoughts as you slam your fist against the table, standing as straight as the alcohol will let you, and screaming to anyone that would listen “you know what, I’m going to do it!”

She watched you with wide eyes, sparing a glance at the rest of the bar with several tables starting to collect bets. The quiet hush besides small clinks of metal throw on tables and mutters gave way for the entire bar, including your intoxicated form, to take in the crashing and screams coming from the back office before one of the underlings was thrown to the hall. Everyone but you watched his retreating form scamper out the front door. Eyes all flick straight back to you, watching as your body previously frozen with his voice suddenly slumps and with another wobble you throw yourself back down on Sevika.

“ fuck... fuck...FUCK! I can’t do it now! He’s pissed, and I’ll only make it worse!” There was audible groans all around, most notably from Sevika who is now grasping her mug with enough force that her metal arm effectively crushed the container, splashing the remaining alcohol up and around with force.

Using her other arm to grasp your shoulder she hoists you up with a gruff “Follow”

She doesn’t wait for a response before pounding her way up to the counter slamming her mug down and waving for another. She knows you’re babbling like an idiot with very few words catching her ears of torture, pain, and misery. She would show you misery soon if you didn’t stop but instead she grasps the new mug the second it slides towards her and downs it.

With as little force as she can muster, she grabs your hand and fists it around the back of her cape before standing. Again her deep strides pound across the floor towards the back all with a little drunk duck desperately holding on for life without a clue in the world where she even is right now.

“So dark and handsome”

“Uh huh”

“So smart, sexy and smart! Whatta man”

“Uh huh”

“So good with jinxy, amazing dad”

“Uh huh”

“Wish I could call him daddy”

Suddenly your body crashes into Sevika’s before she turns around “don’t ever fucking call him that in front of me” before the words sinks in your head she throws open the door in front of you both.

Inside Sevika briefly takes in her boss’s position in his chair, pushed back from his desk with hands resting against his temples. She grasps onto your wobbling form by the shoulders and pushes you forward with enough force for you to fall into his lap.

Both your heads flash towards each other and back at her before she turns around grabbing the door handle.

“You both love each other. Now leave me alone, not my problem anymore” and slams the door shut behind her right after she catches the bright red faces staring at each other.