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definedbydaylight · 2 years ago

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“It’ll Be The Last Time” - Matty Healy x F!Reader

Part 2:

Masterlist: .°˖✧

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: angst-ish, smoking, alcohol, drugs and semi-smutty?, mostly just mentions of it, also i promise this is a Matty fic i just love George so i can’t help but add some love for him in there

Series Summary: “You’ve known Matty since you were 14 and the boy has never failed to get on your last nerve, but over the years you two end up having unexplainable moments where you can’t help but feel you two are connected in a way you’ll never feel with anyone else, until one night he tells you something that may change how you view the boy forever…”

January 13th 2011

Today is finally the day, your debut album is coming out and you should be over the moon, you should be enjoying being out with your friends celebrating, but instead all you can think about is the words Matty spoke to you last summer. You hadn’t really spoken to him since, you’d been out with all the boys since then, you really couldn’t avoid it cause somehow Kelsey and Ross were still going strong all these years later, so you’d seen Matty, you just hadn’t spoken to him past a simple greeting. The club you were at was hosting a release party for you, a small area roped off for just your group, your manager had set everything up as a surprise, you would’ve been fine with a small listening party in your flat, but Kelsey insisted you go along with the idea and enjoy your big day. Honestly she was probably more excited for the release than you were, she’d been planning your outfit for the last week, acting as if it was your wedding day.

The situation at hand felt all too familiar to you, the fact that she’d picked you out a green dress to wear only added onto the nostalgic feeling, but you could never say no to her. You’re currently downing your third dirty shirley of the night, you were over an hour into the party and there was still another 45 minutes before the album dropped and your sad music would be blaring through this club, you almost left bad for the people who came out here who didn’t know what they were about to be subjected to. George and Adam are the first of the boys to arrive besides Ross who’d come early with you and Kels, they walk over to your chosen spot in a booth in the far corner of your section, they both greet you with a hug.

“Don’t look too happy about beating us to an album now y/n!” George jokes to you.

“Oh please we all knew she’d be the first.” Adam nudges your arm. “But for real love what’s with the sulking in the corner? It looks like it’s Kels’s release party!”

All three of you look to Ross and Kelsey dancing together to whatever upbeat club song was playing at the moment, the instrumental far too loud and drowning out any words that would help you identify it, you give a small laugh.

“Just preparing myself for the world to either hate it or love it I guess, I’m ungodly nervous.” You admit to the two.

“Oh please y/n/n! ‘With Your Permission’ is going to smash, every song is a fucking tune and you know it!” George had always been the most encouraging about your music dreams.

“Everyone’s a critic though.” You reply slamming back the rest of your drink, when you look back up you see Matty entering with his girl of the week on his arm. “I need a shot! George care to join me?”

He smiles and follows you back up to the bar, you can’t see but you feel Matty’s eyes following you both as George snakes his arm around your waist guiding you through the crowd.

“4 shots of Tequila please.” You smile kindly at the bartender as he prepares the liquor for you both.

“Any particular reason for the excessive alcohol consumption?” George teases you as the shots are set in front you both.

“Killing the nerves babes.” You smile at him, it’s only a partial lie, you were trying to drown your nerves in alcohol, but it wasn’t about critics or ratings, it was about his best mate who’d drunkenly confessed his love for her just barely 5 months ago now.

“Good enough for me.” He kisses your forehead and you both shoot back two shots in each in quick succession.

Afterwards your eyes find Matty’s and you can’t read his expression like you usually could… it was going to be a long night.

2006:

George and you and had been off and on since the dance, you weren’t really official in the dating sense, but when you both got horny or felt like being romantic you knew exactly who to go to. No one in the group questioned it, you were teenagers and you had sworn to Kelsey about a thousand times that you didn’t want anything serious and she trusted your decisions. The only person who took issue with it was Matty for now obvious reasons, he never really said it but his body language and snide comments told you enough about how he felt. Especially now as you were currently sat on George’s lap at another one of your school mate Josh’s parties, his hands on your waist and one of yours playing with the ends of his hair and the other holding a cider Ross had just brought you on his way back outside from the kitchen. Your whole group was gathered around a makeshift fire pit in the backyard, the heat from the flames keeping you all warm in the crappy early english spring, you were honestly surprised it hadn’t started raining yet as you stared at the dark clouds overhead.

“I’m bored!” Kelsey interrupts the comfortable silence you all’d built up, minus the muffled party music coming from inside the house. “Ooo! Let’s play a game!”

The group groans in unison at the suggestion, but when she breaks out the puppy dog eyes at Ross he’s quick to convince everyone to agree to a drinking game.

“What game do you even have in mind?” You ask your best friend wondering what she might have up her sleeve this time.

“Let’s do never had I ever! You say something you’ve never done, and if someone in the group as done it, they have to take a shot! Adam would you be a dear and go grab us a bottle of something and a few those little plastic shot glasses I saw in kitchen? I’d make Ross do it but he’s just got back from the last trip I sent him on.” And of course no one can say no to Kelsey, so Adam nods and is off to the house.

You all set up in a little circle on the patio beside the fire pit, you’d taken your spot next to George and somehow you’d ended up directly across from Matty on the other side of the circle, his stare held on you and he nursed one of his many smokes of the night. You and Matty hadn’t spoke of what happened at the dance since that night, you’d felt bad in a way about how you’d just left him there, but he knew you liked George, his best mate, and he’d still kissed you. Adam returned with two bottles, one apple sourz and a store brand tequila, a baggie of shot glasses under one arm, behind him trailed the host Josh and you and Kelsey’s school friend Maya.

“Hope you don’t mind but I brought along some randoms to make it more interesting.” Adam says as he hands everyone a shot glass and places the alcohol in the center of the circle.

The game started innocent enough with stupid and playful “Never Have I Ever”s, everyone had taken as least 2 shots at this point, and you were all definitely starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. George had made the mistake of getting on Matty’s nerves by using a very specific embarrassing example to get him to take a shot, and what happened next didn’t help.

“Okay! Ummm.” It was Maya’s turn, and she had no clue what flood gates she was about to open, and neither did you. “Never Have I Ever… had sex…” She admitted quietly.

Ross and Kelsey both took their shot expectantly, as did Matty, you felt your face heat up as your glanced to George at your side, he quirked his eyebrow up at you as you both smiled and threw back your shots together.

“Y/N L/N!” Kelsey shouts from other side the circle. “You dirty dog! Why didn’t you tell me!?” She faked being hurt as she placed a hand over her heart.

You put your face in your hands at the new found attention from the group and leaned over into George, he sweetly rubbed your back and laughed a little at your embarrassment, but you knew it wasn’t in a mean way. The one person you expected to make a comment hadn’t spoken up at all, just sat in silence with a small smirk on his lips, something brewing in his eyes. Josh’s turn was next, then Adam, and finally it was Matty’s turn.

“Hmmm…” He feigned being deep in thought about what he’d say. “Oh! I know! Never Have I Ever kissed my date’s best mate while at a school dance.”

Silence overtook the group after he spoke, your face stilled and your heartbeat quickened as you made eye contact with him.

“That is so weirdly specific.” Maya laughs not knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Well?” Matty speaks up again. “Go ahead and take your shot June Bug.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment you left it was anger, you held your gaze on him as you took your shot.

“My turn.” You say with heat behind your words that everyone could feel.

“Umm no it’s Kels-” Josh tried to speak up before Adam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Never Have I Ever tried to throw my best mate under the bus by telling his date all he wants from her is a ‘good shag’ before telling her I’ve always cared about you more then kissed her without thinking about the repercussions of my actions.” It’s your turn smirk at him. “Go ahead Matty…” You say drawing it out. “Take your shot.”

George is quietly fuming beside you and his grin on your waist tightens as Matty grits his teeth and takes his shot, the tension in the air is so think you could cut it with a knife, and your just glad you can tell his anger isn’t directed at you, but at the curly headed brunette.

“Jesus Christ Matty.” George mutters as he rubs his temples with his free hand. “You know if I wasn’t drunk as shit right now I would break your fucking nose.”

“Damn Matty you did not think that through.” Josh laughs trying to lighten the mood and failing.

Kelsey is watching at you as you stand up and turn to George, a worried expression on her face. “Fancy yourself a ‘good shag’ babes?” You smile at him.

He looks up at you, smiling right back. “With you? Always.” You grab his hand as he stands up, you both pass Matty as you walk to the house, but George pauses for a moment and leans down to Matty’s ear. “She’s bloody fantastic in bed by the way.”

You both enter the house taking up residence in the master bath for some privacy, meanwhile outside Ross is handing Matty’s ass to him on platter. Only Adam knew the true nature of Matty’s feelings for you, Matty didn’t open up about how he felt about these kinds of things easily, only telling Adam after he’d gotten wasted at his after the dance. Matty truly did feel bad with how he’d handled telling you about how he felt, but tonight he was drunk and high and couldn’t stop himself from being an ass after learning the George had been the one to deflower you.

“Lay off him man.” Adam tried to to speak up and Ross whips his head towards him.

“Are you kidding me! He acted liked a child and practically decided to try and ruin his relationship with not only y/n but his best mate as well in the process!” He yells, he then redirects his attention back to Matty. “What we’re you thinking Matthew!?”

Matty sat in silence now, just taking everything Ross had to throw at him, at some point before now he’d reached for the apple sourz and began to down as much as he could, feeling every emotion and yet none all at the same time. Kelsey was rubbing Ross’s back trying to get him to calm down but it wasn’t working and she eventually gave up, going to sit between Josh and Maya, trying to process the events of what just happened and why you hadn’t told her.

After several more minutes of verbal abuse from the friendly giant Matty had finally had enough. “FUCK OFF ROSS, I’M BLOODY IN LOVE WITH HER! OKAY!?”

Silence overtook the group once again, everyone finding out the truth 4 years before you did.

Part 3

a/n: okay haha idk i just got into a rhythm while writing this so idk if it’s good cause my brain cannot handle trying to check it over rn cause i have work in like an hour haha, but i’ll revise when i get home! anyway hope you all enjoy! xx

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty #healy #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #dbd matty fics #dbd it’ll be the last time #george daniel x reader #kinda?#not really tho #george daniel #ross macdonald #adam hann

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britcision · 4 months ago

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So I went on holiday last week! Free camping at the family trailer! (Free as in we didn’t have to pay for the site, we did do some restocking for the trailer itself and all other expenses)

So lemme tell you how that went :)

Day 1: drove up, which took an hour longer than usual cuz half the roads were torn up (ah the Canadian seasons… winter and construction). Made it there, met parents for dinner, found out heating and AC were still down so it was gonna get pretty cold.

Parents were fine because they have body heat, but it hit something like freaking 5 degrees so we broke out the winter sleeping bags about it.

Oh and got a second degree burn on my arm wrassling with the kettle trying to work out how/why it wasn’t whistling properly when it boiled (this remained unresolved and it just kinda did or didn’t at random). The trailer had sterile pads but no tape to apply them with, but I carry that in my car so it was fine.

And around 3am, a fuse blew so the lights wouldn’t turn on. Fridge and microwave still fine.

Day 2: woke up to discover the fridge, which contained my $$$$$$$$$ shots for at least 3 autoimmune conditions which can’t warm up for 15 minutes or they’re worthless, was no longer working. Microwave was.

I checked almost everything, asked my Dad if I had to turn anything off before playing with the actual fuse panel (unscrewed by knife because no screwdriver in the trailer anymore?? For some reason??). He insisted on calling and telling me to retry every single thing I already tried, then told me “no you can just play with the fuses see which has blown”.

The lights indicating blown fuses are on the list of things currently not working. :)

Luckily, I did manage to find and replace 2 blown fuses and got everything except the heater and AC working again before the fridge got warm. We went and checked out some spots to maybe do cosplay shoots!

Day 3: got most of the way to a cosplay shoot but my dumb ass decided to switch contacts at the site rather than scare the piss outta the cashiers at the 2 quick stops we made on the way, and something kept getting into my dang eyes.

I flushed it 3 times, taught my partner to flush it, and then had to bap a disposable lens back in anyway to drive down the street to the hospital, because every single optician who could do the 2 second check I needed to tell me if there was still something in my eye or I actually scratched the cornea (again) closed 10 minutes before this began.

So we hung out at the hospital for 3.5 hours, me with my eyes shut for about half of it because OW, in full view of the one single little scope I needed to borrow to determine if I could safely put contacts back in and drive to the trailer an hour away (very bad idea if there’s an actual cut or scratch on the cornea).

Flushed my eyes 3 more times in their bathroom and the red went down enough and the right eye started focusing so I figured if it’s a scratch it’s a small one and can wait til the opticians open tomorrow so we went home anyway. Both eyes fine, but there was Definitely still something in them until the last flush because it kept stabbing me.

Day 4: picked up a buddy from the bus station to join us for the rest of the trip, went about some of our favourite local spots to see wild gardens and waterfalls and shit.

Apparently the bus lost someone half way up who was supposed to get off at a specific stop but didn’t but that wasn’t our problem so it was fine. Only a 45 minute delay.

Stole some sticks from the arboretum :) and got back in time to light an early fire and toast smores!

Day 5: buggered off almost all the way back to the hospital we’d been to before, this time to go see a fen full of carnivorous plants. The other two kept leaving me behind by accident but I had the car keys so it’s not my problem.

We somehow lost a second little nature reserve on the way back but it’s fine. We made it to a second waterfall before partner started getting some serious pains (possibly smores related) and joked about going back to the same hospital, but it was one of their usual ones so we knew how to deal with it. No more smores for him though.

Day 6: big cosplay shoot that actually worked, I have shared pictures! Partner was pretty much stress dissociating all the way down aaaaand we may have nearly killed our buddy cuz one of the times we went off-roading and climbed under a ledge they got so dizzy they nearly fell and we had to stop to rest… fortunately at the shoot site around the next corner, so we got them fed and hydrated and had a break ourselves, then got to setting up light and such while they rested.

I climbed all the way down to the waterfront :) and! Someone recognized Delicious In Dungeon on our way back, but not Mithrun because anime-onlies. I still win though, cuz our other two were doing Name of the Wind and I think a really specific stage production of Peter Pan (it’s a cool costume) and they didn’t recognize that.

On our way home the GPS did decide to bring us down a spooky backroads we’d never taken before, despite driving this exact route 3 times previously on this very vacation and many times over several years before that. So obviously we said “fuck it” and went to check it out, which was good fun.

Then we got home and set up for our last fire, tried out our new smores grilling contraption to make bacon grilled cheese (it was goooooood), and me or buddy must have knocked the stove at some point, because around midnight the gas alarm started going off.

While partner, the smallest and shortest and worst-lunged of the group, had been inside on a bug murdering spree with the electric flyswatter.

We kicked his ass out, I checked the stove and determined it was not a more mysterious leak we’d have had to disconnect the propane for and lose the water heater, and opened all the windows and the door to let the propane clear out while we looked up what to do with a propane leak.

Buddy got in touch with their mom the former nurse to check when we should go to hospital about the propane poisoning (again we joked about going to the same one but for him) and determined that yeah, he was definitely poisoned and felt real sick, but so long as he stayed outside and did not get worse, puke, or pass out, he should be fine.

So, it getting cold again, I retrieved the cold weather sleeping bag and we put him in front of the fire, debating whether or not the smoke would make it worse. (He’s fine, the smoke probably didn’t help but again, it got Fucking Cold).

And then we waited about an hour 45 for the propane to clear, as determined by me sticking my head in and sniffing to see if I could smell gas every 15 minutes. We did not inform the nurse-mom of this method because we didn’t have a better one (the alarm stopped going off 5 minutes in and showed a green light but it still smelled REAL strongly of gas and I got a headache around the hour mark and got buddy to second guess the last few).

Nothing exploded and we didn’t get in shit for the alarm going off real loud at midnight, so all in all a success!

Day 7: we packed up our stuff, tidied the trailer, and met up with my parents again to turn the keys back over and headed home the long way, via another waterfall.

This time they’d opened the end that was shut last year (and sealed off the end that was open last year) so we got to hike upstream for a bit! And found some nice ruins and trees and all sorts of fun things.

A long drive, but not a bad one, and we got home and got everything sorted out to take buddy all the way back to their home the next day and the camping was officially over.

Oh and also we almost missed a turn on the way home, and when I turned us around to go get it partner was Brutally Attacked by all of the luggage piled next to them and we had to pull over to dig him out and check he was okay

And two very nice separate old farm gents stopped beside us to ask if we were okay (two of the only three cars we saw on they road, not bad)

Overall: BIG Everything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong energy, but all things that we were able to fix by ourselves, which was a blessing. Buddy may be once again regretting coming hiking with us, because I don’t think it’s hiking if you don’t have to use your hands at least once and they don’t exactly climb hills on the day to day

(But we were SO nice to them and stuck to the proper trails almost all of the time and didn’t go do my favourite detour off the big rocky beach and climbing the cliffside or nothin!)

And my back only gave out a little bit yesterday after we got everything put away, and it’s fine now so overall? It coulda been worse.

But now I need a vacation to relax and recover from our vacation.

#not the very worst camping trip i’ve ever been on #we did have one where my mom twisted her ankle on top of a mountain on the first day in #and one when our car broke down the day we left so we had to hotwire it to start it every day of the roadtrip #camping adventures

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new-berry · 8 months ago

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The Athletic has a great article about Jobe.

It then asked: “Is he playing because of his surname?”

They may feel their younger son somehow lives simultaneously in the shade and under a spotlight.

“I don’t think anyone will truly understand what it is like to be Jobe. If he goes anywhere in the world, he’s Jude’s brother, he’s not Jobe.

Him having his own identity is something he desperately craves.

“On the final whistle, Jobe Bellingham collapsed to the turf, lay flat on his back and breathed heavily. Spent, frustrated and beaten, Sunderland’s No 7 had a most disappointing Saturday.

On the final whistle, Jude Bellingham was mobbed by his Real Madrid team-mates, his winning smile reflecting his winning role in a dramatic Clasico. Having scored the 91st-minute goal to secure victory, Real’s No 5 had a most entertaining Sunday.

Yeah the Athletic. Write my copy for me.

Comparing Sunderland’s 1-0 home defeat against relegation-threatened Millwall with Real Madrid’s 3-2 victory over Barcelona could seem like a leap, but two games over 24 hours were bridged by the Bellingham brothers.

Jude, the elder, is having a ravishing first season in Madrid. Jobe, the younger, is doing pretty well at Sunderland, too.

For reasons of celebrity — and space — Jude is referred to in newspaper headlines by his forename (‘Jude pone el broche a La Liga’ was Marca’s on Monday morning), but the surname Bellingham is on his back. Jobe is often referred to as Bellingham at Sunderland but has the name Jobe on his jersey and when the tannoy announces the team at the Stadium of Light, he is ‘Jobe’.

As he picked himself up off the grass following a spectacularly drab game that even interim head coach Mike Dodds called “boring”, Jobe may have noted the contrast with the previous match he had been at — Real’s shootout epic at Manchester City in the Champions League in which his brother scored a decisive penalty.

Still, he got up and walked around applauding those who remained in a near-deserted ground. Some clapped back, but there is anger building among Sunderland fans at what they see as a season wasted after the attacking promise of the previous campaign. They have scored twice in five games and started with a back five at home.

Jobe was stationed in front of the middle three, hoping to break forward, for 45 minutes. In the second half, he was up front, leading the line. Such was Sunderland’s lack of creativity, he barely got a touch, never mind a chance to score.

But a 45th appearance of the season had been completed, an impressive tally when you consider a measurement even more significant than the idiosyncrasy of his surname — Bellingham was 17 when the season began.

He made his debut in January 2022 for Birmingham when he was 16 years and 107 days. He was the club’s second-youngest-ever player — only Jude had been younger. By the end of last season, Jobe had racked up 26 appearances for them; it gives the impression of experience, and it is experience, but only two were for 90 minutes — Saturday’s made it 21 appearances this season.

It is why Dodds described Bellingham last week as “a second-year scholar”, who will not be a first-year professional until next season.

“I have to bring it back to that,” Dodds explained. “There’s so much scrutiny around Jobe if he doesn’t play well. It’s unfair because he’s just so young and I don’t think people appreciate how good he is for his age.

“Because of his second name and the comparison, sometimes the over-analysing of him is unfair. Those are the cards he’s been dealt and he’s got to get on with it. I’ve had that conversation with him.

“Jobe’s scored seven goals, which for a second-year scholar, is unbelievable. He should be playing youth team football.”

Although Dodds is familiar to Jobe and to the Bellinghams — Dodds coached Jobe aged eight in Birmingham City’s academy — he reminded us that not only is Jobe in his first season away from his Midlands roots, Dodds is the third dressing-room managerial voice he has heard.

Tony Mowbray and Michael Beale were the others and as Dodds said, all three have selected Bellingham, who has been played in various positions.

Put these circumstances together and the boy who turned 18 in late September has been impactful and exciting — but also inconsistent, understandably so at his age.

At Southampton last month, for example, Bellingham received national attention for a beautiful swerving shot that swept into the top corner from 20 yards. He was praised for that locally as well, it’s just fans who follow every game also saw his error for Southampton’s opener.

Bellingham took to social media to apologise, which was unnecessary but a sign of the world teenagers inhabit.

At Sunderland, Jobe is part of a policy that saw the starting XI at Southampton become the youngest in the club’s 145-year history — 21 years and three days.

The pronounced emphasis on youth under the owners has been beneficial for Bellingham — and partly explains his £2million transfer from Birmingham at the end of last season — but there have been drawbacks on the pitch when experience has been so obviously missed. And as with the No 5 at Real Madrid stepping unforeseen into the No 9 role in the absence of Karim Benzema, Jobe has been ushered up front at a club who have been unwilling to spend seriously on a centre-forward to replace Ross Stewart.

Jobe’s versatility has been notable and, in the long run, educational. Asked recently about his positional preference, he said: “At the minute I’m just learning because I have no idea what position I am.

“I suppose it’s quite exciting in a way because I’ll find out as the years go on. It’s up to the coaches to figure out where my attributes fit the team best and I’m not arsed where I play really. As long as I am in red and white, that’s fine.”

Sunderland fans will like the last bit of that answer in particular and hearing Dodds say “he’s fallen in love with the fans, with the area — he’s so happy with the decision he made last summer” will appeal.

“It’s a perfect club at the perfect time for him. This part of the world will be forever in his heart. He’s completely in love and the Sunderland fans have been unbelievable with him.”

But the Jobe comparison in their collective consciousness is not with his brother, rather with his colleague Dan Neil. They saw Neil come through their academy, hit the ground running, then tire, and many were pleading for a rest before Neil got one.

On Saturday, the latest edition of the long-running fanzine A Love Supreme, on sale outside the ground, had a feature called ‘Hey Young Sunderland’. It reads: “Speaking of players who have needed a break, Jobe Bellingham was in the engine room alongside Dan. The 18-year-old has been almost ever-present in our team this season and everyone but the coaching staff is aware that he’s been absolutely run into the ground.”

It then asked: “Is he playing because of his surname?”

Sunderland will refute that and point out that Jobe has been withdrawn from England’s age-group call-up to get a rest. The Bellinghams may feel bemused — mother Denise lives with Jude in Madrid and father Mark with Jobe in Sunderland. They may feel their younger son somehow lives simultaneously in the shade and under a spotlight. Then again, even at 20, Jude has experienced some negative coverage in Madrid.

As with all ‘name’ players, praise and criticism tend to be excessive and Dodds said: “Jobe’s life is difficult anyway.

“I don’t think anyone will truly understand what it is like to be Jobe. If he goes anywhere in the world, he’s Jude’s brother, he’s not Jobe.

“Him having his own identity is something he desperately craves. As he gets older and gets more accolades and he does wonderful things in football, he’ll be appreciated for who he is.

“He obviously changed the name on the back of his shirt, so he’s desperately fighting to be recognised for him. It’s always going to be a battle for him, that’s the reality.”

Dodds said the Sunderland squad have helped Jobe settle “really quickly” and they “don’t discuss the brother stuff with him at all”.

And at Sunderland, they are concerned with Sunderland. Jude turning up in a club scarf at Hull City to support his younger sibling is cheered on, but on Wearside, if nowhere else on planet football, it is Jude who is the ‘other’ Bellingham.

And Jobe, everyone needs to remember, was 17 when the season began, a second-year scholar.

#jobe bellingham #just keeping this for writing reasons

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spaceageloveblog · 1 year ago

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youtube

Life's too short.

Woke up early for my Sunday morning run, 5:30a. First long run of my 12-week half-marathon training program. The next 10 Sundays will all be longer.

Make coffee, use the bathroom, weigh-in. Somehow I'm 5 lb. heavier than I was on the first of the month. Darn. I have been overdoing it on the cheese. On the other hand, on that particular day I weighed in pre-lunch after sweating in the sun. So maybe it's not that bad.

Do Wordle, do Connections, coffee is ready. Lounge on the family room sectional, sipping coffee. Start to go through the rest of my normal routines. Already made my running playlist last night, a few songs from my favorite The xx album, then the entire Romy album which I listened to for the first time on Friday, then "Gosh" by Jamie xx. 59 minutes, perfect length for a 6-mile training run.

Open my computer, update my tracking sheet, only thing left to track is sleep. Mark "1" because I had to wake up in the middle of the night to pee. Blame it on the late dinner. Didn't finish until 9p, I like to finish by 8p at the latest, preferably earlier.

Ate dinner late yesterday due to a miscommunication we had. Asked her if she wanted to go out. There was food in the fridge for the kids, and they'd be happy to spend the evening at home playing video games and watching YouTube. She couldn't think of anything she wanted. We went back and forth for a while, and it seemed to me she was on the precipice of accepting one of my restaurant ideas but always stopped short.

And then for the next 2 hours there was a series of phone calls she made or received, I don't know for sure. I halfheartedly tried to get her attention but no success. Finally at 8p she was free and figured I'd already ate. I said I was waiting for her. She asked why. I'm like, would you have just eaten dinner without me on Saturday while I was on the phone?

She said fine, let's go out. We got in the car. Started to drive. Want do you want? Not that hungry she said, maybe she won't eat. Huh? How about the Greek place, I said. Sure, she said. We started to have an actual conversation about her work stuff. Feels normal. It's been a normal Saturday, things are fine. Pull into a parking spot. Are you just going to get takeout she asks, can I just wait in the car? I'm like, what? I don't want takeout that bad. Let's go somewhere else. She doesn't want to go anywhere she concedes.

In fairness to her, I've been obnoxious about dinner recently because we haven't been drinking alcohol. That is, I've been making every dinner out into a referendum on drinking. Analyzing, complaining, etc. So she admitted she wasn't really interested in having dinner with me lately. I drove us home, heated up some leftovers for myself and we didn't talk the rest of the night.

Watching YouTube while sipping my coffee in the morning, trying to wake up and prepare myself to run. Figured I should get off the couch around 6:30 or 6:45 to beat the mid-September Central Florida heat, but it was just before 7 and I was still watching Sopranos clips. She woke up and poured herself a cup of coffee. Great, I thought, I'm going to get up right when she sits down and she'll think I'm avoiding her, which I'm not. But instead she avoided me by taking her coffee and sitting outside.

So I did get up. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, got my running gear on, opened the slider to the back patio slightly, told her I was going to run, love ya. Love ya too.

A few miles in, Romy transported me to another place. The sound of her new album reminded me of Ibiza. Simpler times. Happier times. Well, now that I think about it, I remember we fought there too. I think it was about me staying out too late the first night and ruining the first beach day. But I wasn't thinking about that on my run. Just the warm sun, the cold Mediterranean water, the dance clubs, the music.

Romy sings to presumably her partner about not needing to be so strong. It makes me want to communicate more clearly that although I seem like I have it all together, I don't. But I need to be strong for her and the kids. I want to believe she'd welcome me being vulnerable with her, but that doesn't always go so well. Usually it's in money conversations that I express vulnerability. But I think she interprets it as accusations and she feels guilty about her spending. Maybe if I was vulnerable about life and happiness it'd go better?

Romy sings about advice she receives to enjoy your life. That what's our life has been missing, joy. Too much of a slog lately. I come back from my run inspired to talk to her. After I get out of the shower I sit next to her in silence as she watches Say Yes to the Dress and I reread my notes on the Courage to be Disliked. After a few minutes she gets up, turns off the TV and leaves the room. I keep reading. All problems are interpersonal problems, discard other people's tasks, seek community feeling.

I decide to to tell her I'll join her and dad at BW3 to watch football after church. They had planned to go watch the Bengals. That's another sore subject. It's annoying she cheers for the Bengals. But maybe I should chill out and accept it. I mean, I should have a long time ago. The Steelers will be on TV too, and we could all watch the games. I could drink beer again, life's too short.

But my conversation doesn't go like it did in my head. She says I probably shouldn't go because she's going to watch the Bengals and it's a bar. And I sort of dropped it.

We drive separately to church because our daughter needs dropped off at a friend's after. So I leave 15 minutes early with my oldest son to practice his driving in the elementary school parking lot that's on the way to the church. My son and I get to church first. She shows up a few minutes later in a Bengals T-shirt and earrings.

Church opens with a testimonial about joy. I start to reflect about how have I arrived at a place in my life where I will be spending Sunday morning with my family at church, but then skip watching football and drinking beer. That would be the opposite of joy. I want my life to be the new Romy album not the new Spanish Love Songs album.

So I rehearse a redo of the conversation I had earlier with her. I will listen and hopefully end up in a place where I say I'll drop our daughter off then meet everyone else at BW3. But it doesn't go that way. My oldest says he's so excited for B-Dubs. He'll ride with me. I say I'm taking our daughter to her friend's. He said that's OK. I say I might not be going to B-Dubs. I ask her if the boys will ride with her. She says whatever. They do. My daughter and I go our separate way. Conversation was over before it started.

I drop my daughter off. Think for a moment of just going to B Dubs, ordering a beer and sitting at the table with them. But I chicken out. Decide I'll grab myself a healthy lunch at Bolay then go Publix to get stuff to cook for dinner tonight and tomorrow. Might as well do something useful while I've gotten myself into this quagmire.

In line at Bolay, after the sweet potato noodles and kale salad are already in my bowl, and I am waiting to give them my vegetable selections, she texts me and asks me if I'm coming and need a seat. I said no thanks, I will get lunch on my own. She said she missed me. I said I missed her too.

Listening to Ryen Russillo's podcast driving from Bolay to Publix. He's recounting his trip to Europe last month--Barcelona and Ibiza--coincidental timing to my thoughts from the Romy album. I am picturing myself doing this solo traveling. Lots of eating dinner at the bar. It sounds fun but I'd want a drink. It was at this precise moment that I locked in on life being too short, and not drinking was creating more problems in my life than drinking was.

I have stopped looking forward to things. Not just tangible things like a dinner out or a weekend away, but also hypothetical things, like I couldn't picture a hypothetical trip to Mallorca without relaxing at the end of the evening with a nice meal with a nice drink. So much of life is just our internal thoughts and daydreams, and I am having a hard time envisioning future good times because I picture myself actively avoiding drinking, ruining the good times. Even when I drive by hole-in-the-wall local restaurants, thinking maybe we should explore that place, then I picture ordering ice water and the fun thought goes away. Life's too short, I should let myself have a drink every once in a while.

Maybe I will fail by reintroducing alcohol due to my all or nothing personality. That is, I say I want to be able to drink when situationally relevant, but that leads to 3 beers at home on a Tuesday. But I have to try, because I am being a miserable person. And I can watch all the online content creators that gave up drinking and they're probably right, but they replaced it with other things in life. I would like to replace it with hiking and biking and kayaking. But she is not interested in that. She is interested in date nights on Park Ave and weekends at the beach and vacations in Europe. And I'm interested in those things too. But she is OK with those things without alcohol, and I am interested in those things if I can have a couple beers with dinner.

She texts me again and ask where I am. I tell her Publix, getting something to grill for dinner. She says OK. I tell her maybe I will stop by for the second half if the Steelers can score a few points, per the ESPN app on my phone, they're down 20-0 at this point. I add "lol" to the end of my text message response. Steelers snag a TD right before the end of the first half on my way home. I drop the groceries off and head to B-Dubs to watch the second half.

By time I arrive, the second half has already started and the Steelers have already given up another TD. She's in a booth, with her dad and stepmom all in Bengals gear. My boys are there too. Youngest playing on his phone, oldest engaged with the Steelers game but frustrated in lighthearted way. The Bengals aren't playing well either. They'd end up losing by 21, the Steelers by 23. Before that, while her stepmom wondering aloud if she should complain to the waitress about the $2 upcharge for celery that she wasn't aware of, and I introduce her to the concept of "charge it to the game" which I don't think she understands.

While they still talking about the bill, I get up, head to the bar and order a Heineken draft. I come back to the table and say "life's too short" probably more under my breath than actually out loud, and drink the beer.

#marriage #sports #football #Steelers #beer #drinking #alcohol #Ibiza #Spain #family #kids #music #Romy #The xx #Jamie xx #Spanish Love Songs #Ryen Russillo

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #anna #grace #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ocs #hattie #lion pride

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christ0pher-evans · 4 years ago

Text

Variety’s Actors on Actors

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: Slight Angst / Implied Smut Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing a Chris Evans fanfiction. It it loosely based off of Variety’s Actors on Actors interviews with Chris Evans and Paul Rudd / Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It is pure fluff, hope you guys like it!!! Please reblog and like🖤

♡

When Variety had approached you to be involved in the ‘Actors on Actors’ style interviews, you knew that it could be really fun, a great opportunity and you felt immediate excitement for who they might pair you with.

It was only a day later when they had told you that they wanted you to do the interview with Chris Evans. Normally, any time that you got to spend with Chris, physically or virtually, was fun; however you had no idea how you could possibly interview the man when you knew all there was to know about his life and career, I mean you’d only know him 16 years, and been together for the past 6 years, leading to your past first year of blissful marriage.

You had spent the last month away from Chris due to the filming of your latest movie, and was missing him so much that your heart hurt. The thought of getting to spend a full 45 minutes doing this interview with him was making you jump for joy, because usually neither of you have enough free time simultaneously to be able to spend this length of time together. It’s often a fleeting text of “I miss you”, or a 5 minute phone call between scenes.

You had spent the past week since finding out about this interview trying to come up with interesting enough questions that the fans would want answers to. You were also thankful for Variety as they had sent you a pre-made list of questions in case you got stuck.

It was finally an hour before the interview, and you hadn’t seen Chris’ face for the past two weeks so you decided to make a bit of extra effort to look nice for him.

You were sat in front of your dressing table in your apartment that had be rented out for you whilst you were filming. Make-up was spread all over the table and you could see the reflection, several outfits littered all over your bed where you had yet to make your mind up on what to wear.

45 minutes later and you had a light brown and glittery smokey eye, a subtle winged liner with a gloss over your lips and had given yourself a bouncy blow-dry. After looking through all your outfits, you had decided on one of Chris’ oversized jumpers that you stole before you left and some jeans - even though you wanted to look really nice for him, you knew how much he would appreciate seeing you in his clothes more.

You had made yourself a coffee and set yourself up at the breakfast bar for the interview. Checking everything was set up and ready for the interview, you waited patiently with butterflies in your stomach for it to start. You were bought out of your excited daze by the noise of your phone, a message from Chris popped up.. ‘Can’t wait to see your beautiful face’ Boy, did he still make you swoon after so long together.

Not long had passed before the sound of a video call was coming through on your laptop, and as you answered, a member of the Variety team was on your screen. “Hi Y/N, it’s so lovely to speak to you and thank you so much for partaking in this interview. In a couple of minutes, we will connect you straight through to Chris and you can just start chatting and asking your questions. We will record everything from our end and then edit it together to be posted online.” “That all sounds perfect to me. Thank you so much for having me and letting me do this with my husband.” You couldn’t help but grin, it never got old getting to call Chris your husband. You absentmindedly twirled your engagement and wedding rings round your finger. “Okay, we will connect you now. Have fun!”

And then there he was, bright eyed and grinning at you through the screen.

“Hi Sweetheart.” His voice made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips. "Hi Chris, how are you?” you reply sweetly.

You made some small talk for the sake of the interview, before starting to ask each other questions. “So I have a confession to make..” you paused briefly, “I could not think of any questions to ask you that I didn’t already know the answer to, so I thought I would ask questions that I think fans would want to know the answer to.”

You grin, proud of yourself and proud of the big laugh you got out of Chris because you had come up with such a good idea. “My first question is when you first got into acting, how did you navigate the work/life balance?”

Chris took a swig of beer, pondering his answer before starting. “Well when I actually booked my first bigger film that had a busy schedule, was on the film we worked on together, so previous to that I didn’t have much of a social life” he chuckled, “But when you’re filming for maybe 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, you have to quickly find a routine that works for you where you can still show up to work every day and give 110%. I also remember we used to take naps on set in between our takes all the time.” You couldn’t help but smile as you fondly remembered the first time working with Chris. “No but seriously, when you find a script that you are passionate about, and get to work with people that are truly amazing at what they do, you are happy to dedicate as much time as you need to to get that perfect take, to eventually make that perfect film.”

“Okay, well let’s talk about Defending Jacob, which for you, was a completely different style of character for you to become. How did you prepare for that role?”

“Yeah, it was definitely a new type of role to encompass, especially off the back of playing Captain America for almost a decade, even though he was considered a serious character, it’s a completely different league to enter. I remember doing a lot of work with real life district attorneys to understand the pressure and seriousness of the job role and I remember going through lines with you every damn day.”

You zone out as Chris carries on talking about Defending Jacob as you remember the nights fondly.

————————

You had just finished clearing up dinner as Chris comes bounding back into the kitchen with his script for Defending Jacob. Placing it down on the dining room table, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Sweetheart, pretty please can we run my lines again? I’ve been thinking about how I can add more passion into my character to really emphasise his emotions in those tough scenes.”

You absolutely couldn’t say no to him. You was so proud of how much work he was putting into this show and how perfect he wanted it to be, but you also couldn’t say no to those gorgeous blue puppy eyes.

It had been 45 minutes since you started running lines, you were now sitting on the dining room table swinging your legs back and forth and you couldn’t take your eyes off Chris pacing round the table, the anger and passion in his voice as he recalled his lines. You could feel the heat pooling towards the bottom of your stomach as he ran his hand through his hair, his chest flexing as he shouted his lines, the gruff tone of his voice only making your panties wetter. You were biting your lip gently as Chris pulled you out of your daydream.

“Y/N are you alright, are you getting bored?” You shook your head quickly.

“God no, course not babe. You’re doing great, I’m just slightly distracted.”

Just like always, Chris could read your mind and knew exactly what you were thinking. He sauntered closer to you, placing himself in front of you and sliding your legs open so he could stand between them. Placing his script down, he used one finger to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“Is there something you like baby?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he called you baby and ran his finger across your bottom lip before ghosting a kiss on them. He leaned down towards you, one hand running down towards your panties as he kissed along your neck and up to your ear, before mumbling..”I think we can take a break”.

————————

You chuckled to yourself, remembering so vividly on how you both broke the dining room table that night.

“Oh, is something funny sweetheart?” Chris bought you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you mumbled an apology before changing the subject straight back to the interview.

“Okay, let me ask you a question now Y/N. I want to know how it feels to be like a superwoman as you managed to film and promote your latest movie whilst we were planning our wedding?”

You giggle lightly and smile broadly, remembering the chaos that was your life the six months leading up to your wedding.

“Honestly, Chris, that feels like a blur these days. Planning our wedding was much more work than filming and doing press tours, but somehow we made it work. Don’t make it sound like I did it so elegantly though, I was an absolute bridezilla those six months and I don’t know how you put up with me.” You smile at each other through the screen, remembering the fond memories of your engagement. “But in all honesty, it was just quite a strict schedule with minimal sleep. I loved filming and the press tour for my film was so much fun, as was planning our wedding so even though at the time, it felt like an impossible task, looking back and seeing how well the film did and how perfect our wedding day was, it makes the hard work worth every second.”

Your smile falters slightly at the thought of some of the more stressful times during that stretch, but quickly returns at the look of love in Chris’ eyes as he hangs onto your every word.

————————

You had spent the day at home trying to organise the seating plan for your wedding which was quickly approaching in 3 months, whilst Chris had been out all day filming.

Unfortunately before Chris came home, you had pulled your heels on, ready to walk out the door to your awaiting car to take you to your latest movie press panel. A sad sigh was all you managed before you hauled yourself out the door for the 2 hour interview with your cast mates.

The panel had finished at 9pm and you had jumped straight back in the car, so the driver could take you home to Chris, silently hoping you could catch him for a bit before he went to bed. You knew he would be calling it a night quite early as you had woken up to his side of the bed empty and cold that morning, meaning he had left the house before sunrise. You felt a sudden pang of sadness about how little time you’d spent with your fiancé over the past 3 months. It was no ones fault, you were both busy but it felt like you were actively avoiding one another. You shook your head as a few tears fell.

As a welcome distraction on the way home, you had opted to start looking at flower arrangements for the bridesmaids bouquets, but you could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling so tired and drained from months of final filming and wedding planning.

It was just after 10:15pm as you stepped out the car, thanking the driver before heading up the path to your house. You could see the lights were off, bar the hallway light that Chris had left on for your arrival home. You sighed sadly as you stepped in the door to the quiet abyss. You removed your heels, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, knowing that Chris was up just as early tomorrow.

Walking through to the kitchen, you could see Chris had left you some pizza takeout on the side but you didn’t have the energy to eat, just wanting to curl up in bed.

Heading straight into the ensuite to your bedroom, you quietly took off your make-up and cleansed your face to hide your tear-stained cheeks. Creeping back into the bedroom, you stood looking in the mirror of your dresser as you put on one of Chris’ t-shirts; you looked defeated and utterly glum. As you stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your emotions and bottle them away, you heard Chris stir.

“Babe, come to bed.”

You felt your shoulders relax at the rough sound of his sleepy voice. Quickly wiping under your eyes once more, you turned round to see him holding the duvet up so you could crawl under and into his waiting arms.

Immediately relaxing into the mattress, goosebumps arose on your skin as Chris trailed his fingers up your side to pull you into him. You let yet another tear fall from your eye at the fact that this was the first time you’d actually seen him today, frustrated that work and wedding planning was taking up all your time. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris as he caught the lone tear with his finger, wiping it away.

“I just want our wedding to be perfect and my movie to do well without having to sacrifice all my time with you” you whimpered, hiding your face in Chris’ chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying you, it will all be perfect. Get some sleep, I love you.” Chris gave you a kiss on your forehead before falling straight to sleep, you dozing off straight after him, with heart full of love.

————————

The interview was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness of getting to spend so much time talking to Chris but also dread of not knowing when you would get to see his face again before you finally got to go back home in a months time.

“Okay sweetheart, I have one last question and it is one that Variety suggested for both of us to answer. What is the best part about being married to someone in the same profession as you?” You smile at Chris through the screen, trying to think of only one thing to pick.

“Well, it is difficult to pick one, because there are so many great reasons but also it is really hard being married to someone in the same profession as you. I always try to be honest with our fans and in interviews, so I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We have to go long periods of time not getting to see each other and always having such high pressured schedules doesn’t allow a lot of time for married life.” You sigh at the look of sadness that has washed over both your faces. “However I count my lucky stars every day for having such a supportive and understanding husband like you.” You notice Chris blush at your answer before nodding along with you, agreeing with what you’ve said.

“I have to agree with you sweetheart. There is definitely some poetic justice in the fact that we met on set, both doing the job we love so fondly and here we are, 16 years later, married and getting to celebrate our achievements every single day together.”

You have to told back the tears as the interview finishes and Chris disappears from your screen. Even though you have demanding jobs, you could not feel luckier to be married to a man like Chris and you couldn’t wait to go back home to him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut #fanfiction #angst #marvel #pov

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emiewritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

the story of our life (2) - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

part one

masterlist

series summary: in which jay finds an old video camera and him and y/n decide to document their life as it progresses

a/n: this is about a year too late, but i finally got around to writing a part two to this, i was overwhelmed by the support last time. hope you enjoy :)

31st december 2013

if there was one thing that y/n hated, it was making small talk with a bunch of her neighbours. she knew how mean that sounded, but it was the truth. it was the way they worded their questions to serve both as jabs for informations with a hint of an insult, whilst covering it up with the largest fake smile that they could muster up. it was something mrs franklin, the 45 year old, mother of 4 had gotten well practised at, as y/n had the displeasure of finding out.

"so, how's the job hunt going? i know after you dropped out of university it must have been quite a struggle to keep afloat? isn't that why you are still living here with your mom?" she sneered, as she sipped innocently on the cheap bottle of wine y/n's mom had personally assigned just for her consumption. y/n had to restrain herself from slapping the glass clean out of her hand as she remembered what her mother had instilled in her for the last week in preparation for this exact moment.

"oops, i think i hear my mom calling. enjoy your night, yeah?" she stay posed, as she flashed one more faux smile before striding away from the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed whatever was closest and downed it as quick as she could, frowning at the permanent numbness that hollowed out her entire body.

her head was ringing from the chatter that filled the house, and that would most likely continue until the new year had been welcomed in. the laughter and smiles that were being thrown around didn't sit right with y/n, for what was another year if it was just going to be like the last two. her life had imploded in her hands leaving nothing but a body behind that had no choice but to survive.

"y/n!" someone called out from the other room, however before they had a chance to find her, y/n grabbed two beers from the fridge and shimmied out the back door. the sudden fan of cold december air on her face made her entire chest burn, but y/n liked it, at least it broke the monotony. even if it was just for a couple minutes.

avoiding eye contacts with everyone she passed, y/n found herself rounding her own house until she was stood in the driveway of the neighbouring one. a small smile etching itself on her face as her eyes were met with the old, rotten porch swing that was missing the woman that would be doing her crossword or simply sipping on a cup of coffee no matter the hour. a shiver ran down the woman's back, realising there would not be another moment that she got to see that again.

the house had stayed the same even after all these years, the same paint was chipping away and the wood door was still damaged from where a football had hit it repeatedly during the early years of their sons' lives. however unlike the busy chaos that had once been habituated in the abode, no lights could be seen, no life. just a dull darkness that highlighted how the house she once had known, the family, couldn't be any more different.

pushing past the knot in her stomach, y/n approached the gate to the back garden that was slightly ajar. as she investigated further, a small smile etched itself upon her lips as she was met with two white plastic garden chairs, in one sat pat halstead, whilst the other remained empty.

"well, well, i thought your mother would have chained you to your seat to stop you from pulling a fast one." pat teased, as his eyes strayed away from the dark sky to inspect the woman. patting the seat besides him, the twenty something year old collapsed down into it, before handing one of the cans over to the man, receiving a whispered 'thank you'.

"she got distracted by the mini quiches like an hour ago and i haven't seen her since. couldn't stay there much longer, celia and claire were debating whose husband was the biggest deadbeat." she sighed, as the pair clinked their cans together before they took a longing sip of the liquid, and slipped further down the slightly cracked plastic. her eyes were drawn upwards into the pre-midnight bleakness. however where the winter clouds usually suffocated it, there was a small breaking where two stars shone proudly above them.

"beautiful aren't they?" pat pointed out, clearly confirming y/n's thoughts that the two stars had been the same thing that had caught his interest when she first arrived. running a hand over the wiry beard he had grown over the last two years, his eyes began to water. "uh, sometimes i like to think it's liz and your old man up there, sure she would be chatting his ear off about you and your brother. as well as watching over our jay wherever he may be."

y/n was taken off guard by the older man's comments, but she tried to contain it. in the years she had known pat halstead, it was extremely rare that he voiced his honest opinion about anything. or at least one that wasn't followed by a sarcastic grumble or insult. but to talk about his wife and his son, as well as his best friend, with such emotion brought tears to y/n's eyes.

"you haven't heard from him have you?" she asked in a whisper, not knowing if she truly wanted the answer. the last communication she had with the youngest halstead had been throughout the last period of his mother's life until a little after the funeral, however after not receiving a reply once again and her life on a down spiral she surrendered.

"no, no i haven't," however y/n couldn't help notice that something didn't seem right. maybe it was the way that he shuffled in his chair, refusing to pull his eyes away from the sky to meet her own sad ones. however before she got the chance to confront him, he brought himself to his feet. "wait one moment, i have something for you." watching as he disappeared back into the house, y/n tried to figure out what was going on with him? maybe he wasn't sleeping again? it had been the same for months after the funeral, but she thought he was healing just slightly. she really hoped he had been.

a couple moments later, pat reemerged this time the thing he held in his hands had stolen every inch of y/n's focus. the metal lump that held a thousand memories was being cradled, similar to the way she had been holding it when he had handed it to pat. the sound of his wife's voice in the last clip was something that pat had severed for the last year and a half. it was the thing he would fall asleep to and the thing he would play when he woke up. his liz was still alive in the camera, she was still his liz.

"i thought- i thought you-." y/n couldn't muster up a single thought to vocalise as she was passed the camera. her eyes ran over each dint, scratch, stain that had been acquired over the years. every memory she severed had the image of the red flashing light in it, and yet the person in those videos was someone she no longer recognised.

"this is your life, and i know it feels like it's over, but you have so much to live for and if these videos don't show you that then i don't know what else will." in a rush of uncontrollable emotion, pat wrapped his arms around the daughter he never had and held her as she let out a quiet sob, unsure how to feel.

returning to their seats, pat held y/n's hand as they sat for what felt like days watching the sky deepen. as pat seemed to pray to the heavens that his liz was alright, y/n let her mind run ablaze with unresolved thoughts and emotions as she watched video after video.

it was moments before 2014 came along when her phone let out a painful shrill in search of attention. letting out a small groan, she pulled it from her back pocket, pausing the prom video to answer.

"hello?" she answered.

"y/n where are you? come on, the countdowns about to begin!" her mother yelled clearly unable to hear herself. sighing, looking over to pat who seemed to be hiding something in his eyes, she agreed before hanging up the phone.

"it's not too late for you to come with me you know..." she fluttered her eyes in a humorous attempt at convincing him. the deep chuckle that arose from pat's chest spoke enough for her to work out what was coming next.

"as much as i would love to chit chat with celia and clare over a mini quiche, i'm gonna have to decline." pushing herself off the chair, she leaned over to kiss his cheek softly, pulling away to see the small smile.

"happy new year, pat."

"happy new year, y/n."

the moment she reappeared in her house, she was pretty much been jostled around. somehow the camera that she had walked in with had disappeared from her gasp, and she had made her way to her mother's sight closest to the tv as the countdown clock appeared on the screen. the way her mother smiled at her was slightly unnerving, she knew the woman better than anyone in this world, and just like pat, she was hiding something.

"ten!" they began to chant.

"nine!"

"eight!"

"seven!" a drink was pushed into her hands, which she concerningly took without hesitation. she wasn't even sure who gave it her, but a drink was exactly what she needed right now.

"six!"

"five!"

"four!"

"three!"

"two!"

"one!" suddenly the tv screen was a picturesque screen of fireworks exploding around the country before the whole room erupted in a cheer.

"happy new year!" suddenly everyone was locking lips with their loved ones, friends and whoever was closest to them. however y/n tried to step back, and disappear into the crowd offering a couple of smiles until suddenly she hit something, or someone.

"shit, i'm sorry." she immediately gasped as the drink she was holding splashed against the dress she was wearing, however when she turned to look at her victim her mouth dried out.

there, stood in her living room was jay halstead, in the same uniform that she had last seen him stood in on her doorstep the day he left. what felt like the whole world silencing was actually just everyone in the room turning to look at the pair of them, smiling as they watched the reunion of the couple that never was. however they neither jay or y/n could pull there eyes away from their counterpart.

for a moment they were 17 again, teenagers that didn't know a thing about the world whilst experiencing it together. but this was different, for they were older now. jay's face was more mature, with stumble around his jaw that made him look more in his twenties. y/n's hair was much longer and ever so slightly darker, but jay remembered how the winter did that to her.

"hi." jay smiled, reaching forward to move stands of her hair behind her ears to avoid it from covering up those eyes that were far more fragmented than they had been before. but then again y/n saw the exact same distortion in his own, like half a heart that was on the edge of collapsing.

but at the sound of his voice, y/n fell face first into reality. she remembered every unanswered letter, the loss of hope when she laid in bed completely alone wondering if he was even still alive. she recalled the nights she would sleep on the hospital chair besides his dying mother praying to every god out there that he would be brought back in time to to say goodbye. but it didn't happen, she was left in a void and she didn't know if she would ever be able to get out.

"i-i need to go." she suddenly mumbled, quickly brushing past the army ranger and through the crowd. the awkward, confrontational silence that remained in the room was already enough to tip her over the edge, which only worsened when she saw the red flashing light. stood on the stairs filming the whole debacle was her little brother, who wasn't so little anymore. noticing the shift in mood, he awkwardly lowered it and offered her a sad smile, before she escaped out the door.

what are you doing, she thought, you finally get him back and you are trying to create distance between you two? that was just one of the many nags that bounced off each memory relaying in her mind. so this was what was wrong with pat, he must of known. he knew what was planned, and he said nothing. y/n couldn't blame him, there was no one in this city that would have predicted that she would just walk out like that, well maybe one but he had only just rejoined her life so she couldn't be sure.

her feet lead her to where her heart wanted to be, she cursed herself out for being so stupid as to wear a dress and not grab a jacket during her whole walk out. but the bite of the wind wore off the more blocks that passed until she reached the old creaky gate.

pushing against the metal, even in the pitch black she knew her way. the amount of times she had ended up late at night in this very place gave her that advantage. as she approached the engraved slab that she had helped pat pay for, a sob raked through her body.

"god i wish you could be here right now," crouching down, she leaned forward to run her cold fingertips over the 'ELIZABETH HALSTEAD' scripture. mrs halstead always knew what to say, in any situation. jay and y/n used to blame it on the abundance of dr phil episodes she had watched over the years. yet there was a depth to her words that made your problem feel shared rather than suffocating. "although i'm sure you would be cursing me out right about now for being such an idiot." she thought out loud, remembering what the woman had said when she had told her about the kiss she had shared with the older's son.

she had joked about how it took long enough and what she was going to wear to their wedding, neither of them considering the possibility that she wouldn't get chance for her theory to prosper.

"if that's true, then she must despise me right now." the sudden introduction to the deep voice nearly produced a scream from the woman that turned to see jay staring longingly at the gravestone. just as he brought his eyes to her's, she quickly turned back around, running her hands over her face wondering if he would disappear and all of this would have just been a dream. only it wasn't it was something much more chaotic, filled with resentment, love and the unknown.

"your mom loved you and will more than anything, i don't think she could despise you if she tired," she hummed through a sigh, as jay took a seat besides her. similar to how she had, he leaned forward to run his fingertips over the softened stone, muttering something that he hoped only his mother would hear.

"i really fucked up, y/n/n," hearing the crack rip through his voice, had y/n's head snapping over to him as his shoulders shook slightly as he wrestled with his sadness. "i wasn't here when she needed me most, i wasn't here when you needed me most. she was dying and i wasn't even there to tell her i loved her, what kind of son am i?" the torment that was present in jay's eyes as he turned to look at the only woman that was on the earth to love him ate at y/n's soul, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him, comforting him like he did after the death of her father.

"you a son that made his mother unconditionally proud. she never stopped telling one everyone at hospital about her boys." swiping tears away from under his eyes, ignorant to her own that burnt a trail down her skin.

"i'm not the same guy that left 5 years ago, what i've seen, what i've done-," jay let out a deep breath trying not to fall into the a box of memories he wish he could set alight and never have to face ever again. thankfully the feeling of y/n's fingers tracing nothing in particular against his back grounded him, reminding him that he had been reunited with his home, with his family, with his first and only love. "i got out of there, but that doesn't mean that the war in my mind isn't still on going."

y/n wished she had the answer, a solution, something to help him but she just didn't know what to say. instead she pulled him in tighter, feeling every tip in the think material of the uniform. a uniform that wasn't the jay she knew, but the jay that the army had created, but she knew underneath the camo was still the boy that held her when she feared the lightening outside, or the teenager that broke bryson ellis' nose after he spread rumours about their brief romantic encounter. he was her saviour, he always had been.

"your letters, i did get them. got each one of them in my bag, used to read them before i went to bed. i tried writing back, but i couldn't think of anything to say. i couldn't make anything better and i didn't want you to worry, but i realise that i only made everything worse. i'm just so sorry." pulling away, now it was jay's turn to hold her. in fact he pulled her so close that she was practically in his lap, embracing his body heat with open arms.

"everything's changed, jay," she mumbled, her forehead resting on his chest as she spoke softly. "your mom's gone, your dad's lost, and- and then you and me. last time we saw each other we kissed, we kissed. i- just, i don't know what's happening but i can't stop it." for a moment they both sat there, taking in just how much had changed since they had last been y/n and jay not y/n and jay.

with much care, jay placed his hands around her jay prompting her to look at him. the intense look in his eyes didn't falter for a minute, as he admired the swirls of colour in her's.

"i have been in love with you my entire life, and that is one thing that will never change." declaring his love for y/n y/l/n had always been something jay fantasised about, even as he was stood in a war zone, however never had he imagined it would be in a grave yard nearly an hour into the new year as they fought against the frost. but then again, he didn't care where he was in the world as long as he was by the side of his girl, his love, his y/n.

in a rash moment of euphoria, y/n grabbed his face and pushed his lips against his as if making her own statement to the universe. every ounce of her own soul fuelled itself into something so powerful that was out of the pair's hands. as jay moved his lips against her own, the meaning burnt their insides until they had no choice but to pull away to catch their breath.

with their foreheads touching, for the first time in what felt like 5 years a genuine grin was mirrored on the pairs lips.

"i'm in love with you too." y/n breathed out ruggedly, clearly catching jay by suprised as his eyes widened before the smile on his face got wider.

"wait really?" those had been the words he had wished to hear for every birthday since he was 11, now hearing them made everything a little more brighter. his heart was bumping so quickly, y/n could feel it against her own, yet she said nothing, too caught up in the moment.

"i think it was ignorant of me to think i wasn't years ago. you are it for me, jay halstead." she smiled leaning forward to press another kiss on his lips, this time though it felt as though she was putting the final period on the end of a chapter that neither of them wanted to experience again. for this was a new beginning, the beginning of the story of their lives, together.

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years ago

Text

and then the world stopped (1/2)

Summary: Vic wasn’t unhappy when she moved with her husband to Washington D.C. She was happily married, had a new job as a teacher and was trying to get pregnant. But after a year of trying still nothing has happened. She didn’t know that just one accident of the nanny of one of the children in her class was about to change her whole life.

Pairing: Dave York x OFC

Wordcount: 4.4k+

Warnings:fluff, smut (shower sex, fingering), Infidelity, mentions of physical abuse

A/N: Okay I have no idea what’s going on with me but the words are flowing. I decided to cut this into two parts. Part 2 is coming next week :) Big thanks @yespolkadotkitty for being my beta on this. I guess I really am in the pit now :D

Taglist in reblog (join my taglist here or drop me a message)

Masterlist

Victoria didn’t even know why she bothered taking the test. She was only three days late and she knew it would be negative. She had been trying to get pregnant for almost a year now. She was healthy, her husband was healthy, but somehow, it just didn’t work out.

When the test she took confirmed that she indeed wasn’t pregnant she just sighed and put it in the trash, then slicked on some eyeliner.

Her husband, Phil, was standing at the kitchen counter, his phone in his hand, his cup of coffee next to him. He looked up when Victoria entered the room, hopeful. She just shook her head, grabbing her purse. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

When Vic moved from New York City to Washington D.C. she had plans. She had just married the man she thought she loved and they were happy. She had gotten a new position at the elementary school close to where their new house was, while Phil had the job he had always dreamed of. They were happy.

For a good year.

Children were always on their wish list. So even though they both just started their new jobs, Victoria got off birth control, and oh, did they try. But the longer nothing happened, the more frustrated both became. She could handle her frustrations by going to the gym. Phil on the other hand… It must have been the fifth negative pregnancy test when his hand slipped the first time. Victoria had been so shocked she had just left the house, not knowing how to process what just happened.

This wasn’t the man she wanted to spend her whole life with. Somewhere that man got lost and she wasn’t sure if he was still inside of there, or if she could find it in herself to forgive him.

The bruises on her skin faded, but not the ones on her soul. She threw herself into her work, treating the sex they still had like a chore to maybe get what she wanted. It didn’t feel like before, there was no passion. At some point, she asked herself what would happen, if she would end up pregnant? She couldn’t bring a child into this mess of a marriage.

Thankfully she didn’t have to make that decision because Phil had to travel more and more for work. The last time they had sex was 6 weeks ago and she clearly wasn’t pregnant. He would leave again today, and this time, she didn’t bother to ask for how long.

Maybe it was time to end things. But a part of her missed the man she had fallen in love with. The man who might be hiding somewhere deep inside of the corpse of a man she was married to now.

“Hi Miss Vicky,” she shook her head to clear her thoughts, a smile coming to her face as she spotted Alice.

“Hi Alice. How are you?” She asked, seeing the girl’s eyes shine enthusiastically.

“Dad tried to make pancakes.”

“And they were good?” Victoria saw her shake her head with a sour expression and tried not to laugh. She didn’t know much about her father, only that his wife died. She only ever met the nanny.

“But he’s the best at making sandwiches.” Alice grinned and Vic chuckled.

“Then maybe your Dad should stick to sandwiches.” Vic winked.

Vic didn’t mind when parents were running late picking up their kids after school. Though most times it was a couple of minutes, 15 max. But when the clock was running towards 45 minutes after the bell rang and her colleague brought Molly, Alice’s sister to her class, because she couldn’t stay any longer, Vic grew a little worried. The nanny, Sarah, had never been late. She was one of the few people who were always waiting outside. Watching Alice and Molly draw, she dialed the three numbers that were listed as the emergency contacts. The first one was Sarah, the nanny. The call went straight to voicemail again, but she left another message.

The second one was the cell of their Dad. David York. It went straight to voicemail, too. Sighing she dialed the third number, that didn’t even connect.

The next thing she would have to do was to call either child services or the police but as she watched the girls drawing and playing together, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

When another 45 minutes passed she asked the girls if they knew anyone else they could call.

“Just Dad or Sarah. There’s no one else,” Alice shrugged before she got back to drawing her picture.

“Hm… What do you think about going to my place to wait until someone calls? I bet you are getting hungry, huh?” Vic asked before she couldn’t think more about it. She sent a little prayer that their father was only held up at work.

“Can we make pancakes?” Alice asked excitedly and Vic chuckled.

“Breakfast for dinner? I like the way you think.”

She called both contacts again, saying that she hoped it was okay not to call the police and that she would take the girls both home with her. She gave her address and then went out. Hoping that she was doing the right thing.

“Miss Vicky?” Molly was sitting on the kitchen counter. They had been at Vic’s house for a good two hours now and the pancakes were almost finished.

“Yes Miss Molly?” She asked with a small smile, making Molly giggle as Alice insisted on setting the table.

“Where is our Dad?” She asked. Vic flipped the last pancake and overplayed her concern at their Dad’s disappearance before she smiled. “I bet he’s only stuck at work. He’ll be here before you know it.” She tapped on Molly’s nose, making her giggle.

“Maybe you can show him how to make pancakes, Miss Vicky. They are soooooo good.” Alice hummed and Vic turned her head, suppressing her grin at the girl stealing a piece of the plate full of pancakes on the table.

“I bet your Dad knows to make other stuff instead,” she winked.

“Yes! He makes the best blanket forts.” Molly clapped her hands in excitement.

“Does he?” Vic asked.

“One time, when Mum was just gone, Dad made the whole living room a blanket fort. It was the best thing EVER!” Alice giggled. Vic was about to answer when she heard her phone ring. She turned off the stove, setting Molly down on the floor before she went over to grab her phone, sighing relieved when she noticed it was Mr. York calling.

“Mr. York.” Vic said relieved, taking the call.

“I’m so sorry. I just got off the plane. Sarah had an accident and is in the hospital.” Vic ignored how deep and velvety his voice was.

“Oh no worries. Is Sarah okay?” Vic asked.

“Just a broken leg. She has to have surgery, though. Again, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way now. Thanks for taking care of my girls.” She could hear his relieved sigh.

“Oh, they’re just precious. We are actually about to have pancakes for dinner and their homework is done too,” Vic smiled. She heard a chuckle on the other end of the line and found herself smiling at her phone.

“Pancakes… They really love their pancakes.”

“They do,” Vic walked over to where the girls were waiting patiently for her.

“It’ll probably take me another hour to get to your side of town.”

“That’s no problem. It’s Saturday tomorrow, I have nothing planned.”

“You’re an angel,” she heard Mr. York say. Her heart fluttered.

“I really am not. See you in an hour, Mr. York,” she smiled.

“Thank you.” He said again before he ended the call. Alice and Molly looked at her as she set her phone down.

“Your Dad will be here in an hour. How about we save him one of the pancakes?” Vic asked.

Elsa was just about to sing “Let it Go” when the doorbell rang. Vic had seen the headlights of a car outside the kitchen window only moments before. Molly and Alice were sitting to either side of her, cuddled against her. It felt natural; like they had been doing this for years. Shaking her head, she untangled herself from the girls who were so invested in the movie, they didn’t even notice that there was someone at the door.

Slowly Vic walked over, looking at herself in the mirror next to the door, to check her appearance before she opened the door.

Vic wasn’t a big fan of romcoms. She never believed life could throw you just this one person in your life, that made the whole world stop when they look at you. She didn’t have this ever before. Yet when she looked up into the warm brown eyes of David York, it was just like that.

The world stopped and she didn’t know for how long. He looked tired, yet a relieved small smile graced his lips. His hair looked like he had run his hand repeatedly through it, probably in frustration, and she wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked.

“It took a bit longer,” he said before he held up a sunflower. “I would have gotten something bigger, but that was all they had at the gas station,” he said hesitantly. Vic was so awestruck by the handsome man standing in front of her that she had to shake her head a little before she chuckled.

“You didn’t have to. They were little angels.” She took the sunflower, daring herself not to smell it as she stepped to the side to welcome him in.

“Yeah? They can be little devils, let me assure you,” he said, watching her closely. She closed the door, suddenly very aware of the weight of the ring on her finger. Sucking her bottom lip in she turned back around to find him standing in her hallway.

“I’m just glad nothing happened to you, Mr. York,” she nodded towards the living room and he followed her.

“Please, call me Dave,” he winked and she only nodded, ignoring the shiver that went over her body when he smiled at her.

The girls really wanted to finish watching the movie. Vic didn’t mind but she could see that Dave wasn’t happy about it.

“It’s okay. Really. I actually love Frozen. I can understand if you want to go home, but don’t think you have to leave right away on my account,” Vic said.

“You sure? Your husband won’t mind?” Dave asked, looking at her from the side he was standing. It had been a long fucking day. Well, two days. The job should have been easy, but he should have known better. And of course, his nanny had to break her leg today. Not that he was mad. It had just been shit timing. But standing in his daughter's teacher's home, watching said teacher bend over to load the dishwasher, might be the peak of his day. It was a pretty little house she was living in and he made the mental note to find out more about her. And her husband.

She was absolutely beautiful. Her dark hair in a loose braid over her left shoulder. She was wearing a soft white sweater dress that went just above her knees. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. He found himself asking how on earth he had never seen her before? Then again, he hadn’t been around to pick the girls up from school lately.

The only thing that he didn’t like about Victoria Stone was the ring that marked her as clearly taken. Dave did like a challenge, but making his daughter’s teacher cheat on her husband wasn’t on his agenda.

Yet.

“The girls left you one pancake.”

“Really?” He asked, surprised sitting down at the table. She nodded with a small smile.

“They also told me about you trying to make some last weekend. They really are not that hard to make.” She pushed the plate towards him. There was one pancake with a whipped cream smiley face on top of it, making him smile a little.

“They decorated it,” she explained. He looked up, finding her green eyes already looking at him. Fuck he liked her. And he had only met her twenty minutes ago.

She felt the shift in the air as he looked at her. His eyes, fixating her like he had some kind of spell over her. She swallowed, feeling nervous.

“You mind if I grab some wine?” She whispered. He shook his head.

“Please. It’s your weekend too,” he whispered back.

“Okay, girls. The movie is over. You’ve been annoying your teacher for long enough today,” Dave called out. Alice and Molly ran over to him and into his arms and Vic’s heart just melted. This, this was what she wanted. A loving husband. Dave didn’t seem like he would blame her for not getting pregnant. Then again he probably wouldn’t have any problems getting her pregnant.

Her eyes shifted over his broad back as he helped his daughters with their shoes. Fuck, she shouldn’t be looking at him like that.

God damn it you’re married, Vic.

“So even though I sound like a broken record, you saved my ass today.”

“DAD!” Alice shouted, making Dave wince.

“Swear jar. I know.” He groaned. Vic chuckled.

“Seems like we’re gonna see each other a lot more in the coming weeks,” Dave continued, as he stepped out of the house, Molly on his arm who fought against falling asleep. Alice was already climbing into the car.

“Huh?” Vic asked.

“With Sarah out, I have to pick the girls up.”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah. Well then, see you next week?” She asked.

“I look forward to it.” He winked at her before he turned and walked to his car. She looked after him, before she closed the door behind her, her back against it.

“You are in so much trouble, Vic,” she groaned to herself.

Vic wasn’t a newbie at covering up bruises. At the beginning of their marriage, she didn’t mind the hickey and bruises, mostly because they were somewhere where only she and Phil knew of their existence and they existed out of passionate moments in the first place. But looking at herself, the imprint of his hand on her upper arm clear as day from when he had dragged her to the bedroom last night, all she felt was shame.

He had locked her into the bedroom. When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of the thoughts when the bell rang and the children packed their stuff together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Vic smiled. Alice grinned at her. It had now been almost two months since the day she took the York girls home. Their father, Dave, had been picking her up every single day since then. She found herself looking forward to seeing his face. The most disturbing thing for her was that she didn’t feel a single bit of guilt. Phil had been home less and less and she couldn’t even remember the last time he had looked at her the same way she saw Dave looking at her. She did notice the way he checked her out last week when she was wearing that summer dress she loved so much. Later that day, when she was home alone again because Phil was gone, it was Dave York’s hands she thought about as she touched herself.

David York didn’t seem like a man who smiled much, but every time she looked at him, his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Vicky,” he asked as he stepped into the classroom. Turning her head to look at him, she had to suppress the urge to bite her lip. He was wearing his dark suit pants, a crisp white dress shirt, the first three buttons undone. He looked good enough to eat.

“You don’t want to know what's going on up in there.” She pointed towards her head.

“Oh you’d be surprised.” he winked, and she blushed. When did she turn into a giggly school girl again?

“Ready for some Ice cream, Alice?” He asked and Alice nodded enthusiastically, making both Dave and Vic chuckle.

“You wanna join us?” Dave asked, his hand coming down on her upper arm and she flinched slightly. She didn’t think he noticed, but of course, he did.

“That’s nice, but no. My husband is supposed to be home tonight.” She said with a forced smile. She wanted to talk to him tonight. She couldn’t do this anymore. Not when she spent every living moment with another man on her mind.

“Well then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dave smiled. She only nodded, looking after them before she packed her stuff.

Dave was sitting at the ice cream place when he typed a message to one of his contacts, ordering a full background check on Victoria Stone’s husband. There was something off about the man, and the way she flinched away from him left questions he wanted answers for.

Phil didn’t come home that night. And frankly, Victoria was pissed. He didn’t call her back, and she’d come to a point where she didn’t care. That’s how she found herself in the late night at the gym on the treadmill, “Footloose” on her ears, powering herself out. The gym was relatively empty, only a few people were there. Who would want to go to a gym at 1 am anyway? She didn’t care who was watching as she began to dance along while trying not to trip on the treadmill. Out of breath, she grooved to the last notes of the song when she heard someone applauding behind her.

Looking over her shoulder the inevitable happened and she did trip when she looked at Dave York behind her. Before she could fall, two strong arms wrapped around her, catching her, before her face met the ground. Looking up at him, his brows furrowed in concern, she was sure her heart stopped beating for a moment. He was just so close. All she had to do was lean in and her lips would be on his… Shaking her head to get rid of this though she let him help her up before she brought a little distance in between them. Trying to get fresh air into her lungs, his scent lingering in her nose like an aphrodisiac.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling her earbuds out, suddenly feeling too naked to be standing in front of him. She was wearing her workout clothes. Some very tight leggings and a blue sports bra. Dave didn’t hide the way his eyes lingered on her body.

“Working out? It’s the only gym that is open around the clock, and this is the only time someone can watch the girls at the moment.” He shrugged, his tongue daring out to wet his lips. His eyes lingered at her cleavage before he looked up into her eyes again. Victoria was glad that she did just work out, otherwise, he would have seen the blush on her cheeks. She tried her hardest to ignore the way his sweaty shirt was clinging to his chest.

“Didn’t take you for someone who likes to work out,” she teased, and this time she couldn’t hide herself biting her lip as she admired his strong arms.

“I hate it - but I have to.” he shrugged. “Need to work on my stamina.” Dave stepped closer, tilting her chin up, and there it was again, the feeling that the world around them stopped. He didn’t care for consequences as he looked down at her. She was smaller without her heels. And he wanted her.

“You wanna help me?” he looked down at her lips before his eyes flickered up to hers. She swallowed, her breath getting quicker. She couldn’t think when he was this close. But maybe it was time to not think for a moment. No matter the consequences.

“Sure. How do you want me?” she whispered and he grinned, leaning down, his lips close to her ear.

“Wet and naked under the shower.”

The first time Dave kissed Vic would be burned into her memory. She imagined it to be hard and desperate but it was soft, his hands on the back of her neck as he brought her closer towards her. She gasped when her back met the cold shower wall, her hands wandering under Dave’s shirt, pushing it up until he took it off, letting it fall to the ground without a second thought.

Holding on to his back, as his lips wandered down her jaw, her neck, her throat she whimpered when she felt his hands cupping her boobs.

“Been dreaming about this for weeks…” he groaned, his fingers pulling down the elastic fabric of her sports bra. He kissed every part of skin that was revealed to him until his mouth closed around her nipple.

“Fuck…” Vic moaned, her hands in his hair. He blew on her hard nipple after sucking on it, making her shiver. She could probably come just from the way he was looking at her. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like he wanted to eat her alive. And she was ready to let him.

“Dave…” She whimpered and he came up to kiss her again. “I need you inside of me.”

He smirked.

“Take off your clothes.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to her that Dave York was someone who went commando. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped his pants down and Vic was sure the temperature in the shower went up.

Pushing her sports bra over her head, her pants and panties down her legs, she and David just gazed at each other before she turned around with a little shy smile, stepping into the warm stream of the shower. Letting the water run down her body, she felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. Dave drank her in, her body wet, her hair clinging to her back. It was at this moment, that he decided to never let her go again. Stepping closer, he kissed her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her stomach as his cock twitched in contact with her hot wet skin. And then he surprised her again by grabbing the shampoo and washing her hair.

In a way, this was even more intimate than what was bound to happen. His strong hands massaged her head before he guided her slowly under the hot stream of water, to wash her hair out. It was like a dream.

“Think you can keep quiet?” He asked, kissing her neck.

“Why? Do you want to make me scream your name?” she challenged and she felt him grin against her skin, as one of his hands, dropped lower, two fingers circling her clit.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” he asked with a predatory grin. He pushed his hand in between her legs, finding her slick and warm. When he pressed his two fingers inside her, she knew that there was no way she would be able to keep quiet. Letting her head fall back against his chest, she closed her eyes. She only hoped that these showers would be unoccupied for a little while longer.

“Keep going....” she whispered. His other hand came up to massage one of her boobs while his finger kept slowly fucking her.

“You gonna come for me like that?” he asked, sucking on the skin behind her ear. He added a third finger, feeling her hips move to meet his fingers.

“Yes…” She whimpered. He pinched her nipple before he brought his hand up to turn her head to kiss her hard, swallowing her moan as her orgasm washed over her.

Fuck that felt good. She couldn’t remember the last time she came so hard. Out of breath she smiled against his lips, turning in his arms, bringing his fingers that had just been inside her to her mouth to suck on his fingers.

“Fuck me…” Dave groaned and she grinned wickedly.

“What about you fuck me?” Vic hummed, her hand reaching for his thick cock in between their bodies, slowly rubbing his length as she smirked up at him. His eyes were as dark as night as he looked down at her. Something seemed to snap inside of him as he pushed her against the cold tiles, his mouth on her.

He grabbed both of her hands, bringing them up above her body, keeping them pressed against the wall with one hand, while he pulled one of her legs up with his other hand, hooking it around his hips.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered as he lined himself up and filled her with one thrust, making her cry out. He waited only a moment before he started to move. Thrusting deep, while his lips left bruises all over her neck. She didn’t care, she would wear those with pride. He let go of her wrists only to pick her up, her legs now crossed behind him, as his thrusts became harder. She held onto him, one of her hands on his shoulder, her other hand in his hair.

“D...Dave…” She moaned, pulling at his hair hearing him groan. He twitched inside her, and she did it again.

“Keep doing that…” he mumbled against her skin before his lips closed around her nipple.

She pulled at his hair, her fingers digging into her shoulder, as she felt her second orgasm fastly approaching.

“I’m close…” she moaned and he snapped his hips faster.

“Then cum for me, sweetheart,” he moaned, close himself.

Vic was glad for his strong arms around her as she cried out in pleasure, her orgasm making her whole body shake.

“Fuck... you’re so fucking perfect…” Dave groaned, his thrusts getting sloppier before she felt him spill deep inside of her. His lips searched for hers, kissing her deeply, as he held onto her.

Trying to breathe, he leaned with his forehead against his.

She couldn’t name the expression on his face as he looked at her. It seemed like he was trying to analyze her.

“We’re doing this again,” he breathed before he kissed her.

#my writing #dave york #dave york x ofc #Pedro pascal #dave york x reader #dave york x you #david york #fanfiction #fan fiction

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years ago

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Branded - Chapter 45

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky will do whatever it takes to get her back.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Anger, grief, thoughts of violence, angst

AO3

Bucky paced like a wild animal, back and forth, tail lashing with each circuit he made. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t functioned much at all in the past few days, and he was always a heartbeat away from snapping like a wire pulled too taut.

He couldn’t go through the door he was pacing in front of, the demonic wards holding him at bay. It was just as well. Without them, he would have marched straight inside and ripped Helmut Zemo’s spine out his throat.

It wouldn’t have solved any of Bucky’s currents problems, but it would have improved his mood. And it might have distracted him for a few moments from the black hole currently residing within him. A negative space where the bond had been. Every moment that void was there, he wanted to tear out his own heart.

Maybe he’d still get the opportunity if they couldn’t find a way to bring her back. He’d end his own life for a fast one-way ticket to the demon realm if he had to, and there Bucky would stay until he found her.

And then… what? They’d be trapped there forever? Why didn’t that scare Bucky as much as the thought of being separated, with her being all alone in that place? He knew she was resourceful. She’d proven it by the fact they’d captured Zemo at all.

When the gun had gone off, Bucky had felt like he’d been the one shot, only it hurt so much worse because he actually knew what a bullet to the gut felt like. He’d barely made it in time to catch her as she fell, and he’d been in no state of mind to deal with Zemo after that. Steve had barely been conscious by the time Strange and the others had found them, so it wasn’t him who had caught the bastard.

No, it had been the Alp itself that had stopped Zemo. Before the man had even gotten a chance to order his demon to teleport him away, it had used its paralysis aerosol on Zemo and knocked him into a peaceful sleep. And then it had vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke, leaving its master there to be collected by the sorcerers.

The thought made Bucky shake his head. Somehow, Bucky’s girl had managed to make a demon turn on its own master. Not once, but twice, if Bucky was including himself.

Leave it to her to befriend a demon and turn it to her side.

Leave it to her to give everything for Bucky, including her own life. And what had he done in the time since then except vacillate between rage and grief? Between shouting at Strange and standing by Steve’s healing bed like a mourner at a funeral, waiting for them to come up with a rescue mission.

The sorcerers had made little progress, and Bucky feared their only hope lie in the man that had murdered her.

Bucky would have gotten the answers out of Zemo himself, if only for the fact he couldn’t get his hands on him. The demons wards weren’t to keep Bucky out, they were to keep Zemo from calling his demon slave to teleport him away. No matter how had they’d tried, the sorcerers couldn’t break the demon bond. And no matter how much the Alp might not want to, it wouldn’t be able to resist the call of its master, no matter how far away it was. Bucky had learned that lesson the hard way with his own escape attempts from HYDRA.

So now they were at an impasse. Zemo imprisoned but refusing to cooperate, and the sorcerers unable to get anything useful out of him but having no choice but to keep him locked up. Bucky hadn’t be surprised the sorcerers had failed to take away Zemo’s last Hail Mary. If they were capable of breaking demons bonds, they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

The door opened, and Strange had to wave him off before Bucky accosted him with questions.

“Well?” Bucky asked, impatient. “What did he say?”

“Still nothing helpful.” Strange glanced at Wong as he too strode toward the door. It shut with a heavy thud behind them, no doubt locked by all sorts of arcane spells. “It’s clear that Zemo doesn’t know how to work the demon gate with any expert knowledge and relied solely on the red book to achieve his goals.”

The circular stone archway they’d found in the basement of the Siberian compound, which Strange had named the “demon gate,” had remained inert no matter how the sorcerers tried to manipulate and power it. How Zemo had managed to summon the Alp through it, but it wouldn’t respond to the sorcerers, left Bucky short-tempered and frustrated.

It was nothing compared to the guilt. The shame at being controlled, manipulated into almost killing Steve. He was still being tended to by the healers, and the only reason he wasn’t in a hospital was because Strange had insisted they take him to the Sanctum.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, then Bucky’d nearly killed her. His worst nightmare being played out before his eyes, or it almost had. Through their tenuous bond she’d somehow broken through to him, and Bucky had managed to stay his hand when he’d never been able to do so before.

It had been… freeing. Liberating to disobey a direct command. To be ordered to hurt someone he loved and having the strength to resist.

And then Bucky had failed to save her anyway. She’d died, right there in his arms, her heart going silent the loudest thing he’d ever heard. As if that hadn’t shattered his world enough, she’d turned to ashes in his hands, the stink of sulfur and brimstone stinging his eyes as she slipped through his fingers.

In that moment, Bucky’s bond to Zemo had been severed. One of the apparent benefits of a demon having a human slave. She’d gone to Hell so Bucky could be free.

And all he’d managed to do with that freedom was absolutely fuck-all.

Bucky’s fist flew, the jagged knuckles of his armored hand knocking a sizable chunk out of the stone wall.

Strange merely lifted his eyebrows. Wong frowned in disapproval. Bucky didn’t give a shit. They should have woken him as soon as she’d gone missing, but instead, he’d woken on his own, bursting through the cryo-chamber and shattering its door to pieces. He’d been so confused and enraged that the sorcerers had had to bind him with glowing ropes and wards until Bucky calmed down enough to explain she was being tortured, and he could lead them to exactly where.

So, yes. As far as Bucky was concerned, this was as much Strange’s fault as it was his, and the only reason he was even still tolerating the sorcerers is because they were her only chance of rescue.

If they could get the fucking gate to work, anyway. A big fucking if. Apparently, sorcerers could make portals on Earth without a problem, but crossing into other dimensions was even beyond Strange’s capability.

And yet, she had been able to do it as a ten year old child. Bucky had hoped, maybe, somehow, she would be able to summon that power within her once again and come back to him, but there had been no sign of any mysterious blue portals popping up on Earth.

So as pissed as he was, Bucky had to remain patient, and right now, he had to pay attention.

“I have an idea on how to power the gate,” Strange said, wearily eyeing the damaged wall before turning to Bucky. “We have more of HYDRA’s research that Zemo ever did, and I have no doubt we will be able to create a stable connection soon.”

“Soon isn’t good enough,” Bucky snapped, struggling not to snarl at the sorcerer. “Every minute here is hours over there. Each day wasted is weeks she has to endure, alone, in a place humans were never meant to survive. We can’t—“

The lump in his throat forced him to silence. Bucky couldn’t say what he’d been thinking, and from Strange’s sympathetic expression, it didn’t need to be said.

They might already be too late.

Bucky still wanted to punch Strange in the face. If he cared so damned much, why hadn’t he kept a closer eye on her? Zemo may have been smart, hell, he was probably a genius to figure out how demon magic worked, but how had he managed to outsmart a whole sect of sorcerers?

“We will move as quickly as we can,” Strange said, indicating Bucky should follow him. “I don’t wish to waste any more time than you do.”

Bucky somehow doubted that, but he still followed after the head sorcerer. His tail twitched as they made their way deeper into the Sanctum, to the place Bucky had spent every waking moment when he hadn’t been by Steve’s side.

“I am aware of the time dilation in the demon realm,” Strange said as they walked down a spiraling set of stone steps, “but it might not be uniform or even linear. Your experience may differ from hers.”

If Strange thought that would be comforting news, he was wrong. Bucky didn’t need an overactive imagination to come up with whatever horrors she might be facing now. He certainly didn’t want to dwell on the possibility of… of finally making it to the demon realm and realizing hundreds of years had passed.

Bucky couldn’t… he couldn’t think about it. He would lose his mind. Bucky would only let despair swallow him after he was a hundred percent sure that… that there was nothing left to hope for. That she was truly gone and wouldn’t be coming back.

That he would never get to see her again. To watch as her eyes brightened and that familiar mischievous grin tugged at her lips. To hold her in his arms while he buried his nose in her hair, filling his nostrils with her scent and—

Bucky shook his head and grit his teeth. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not when they were closer to their goal, so he forced himself to focus on Strange’s words. Something about a power source needed to fuel the thing, and that Zemo must have hidden it away from the base because the sorcerers couldn’t sense it. Bucky honestly didn’t understand most of it, only that it would take an unnatural power source to get the gate running.

The underground lair, as he called it, left Bucky as awed as the first time he’d stepped food inside. The room was essentially a giant dome constructed of very large stones, but the most interesting aspect of the room was the glowing glyphs carved into the stones. The power thrummed under his skin and set his arm plates rigid as his tail flickered.

And there, in the middle of the room, lay the instrument that had been the focus of his frustration and anger over the past few days. A stone gateway, teleported here by great effort from the sorcerers. It was ancient, possibly constructed during the days of the Holy Roman Empire, or so Strange had rambled. Bucky was too fucking stressed to appreciate the mythical history lesson.

When the sorcerers working on the gateway turned to Strange and confirmed it couldn’t be powered by anything in their vaults, Bucky turned away, fists tightening, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do. But before he could take even a single step, Strange laid his hand on his shoulder.

“Just a moment, Sergeant.” Strange’s voice was gentle, and it was the only reason Bucky didn’t grab the hand on his shoulder and break it. “There’s one thing left to try. It’s not without danger and risk, but—“

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said immediately. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“I suspected you might say that.”

Strange’s smile was sad but accepting as he patted Bucky, and then let his hand drop. Bucky’s desire to strangle the man went down a few notches, and if this worked and he got her back, Bucky might even forgive him.

Might.

Strange straightened his posture and faced the stone archway, held his hands in front of his chest in a manner that meant he was about to cast a spell, and he said, “Though I must warn you, tapping into the power of the Infinity Stones can be quite dangerous.”

With an intricate pull of his fingers, glowing patterns in the air emerged, and that’s when Bucky finally noticed the green light shining from Strange’s amulet. He’d vaguely wondered around the thing always around the sorcerer’s neck, and now Bucky had an answer as to what it was. Something otherworldly, deadly, and strong enough to compare with the power of the blue cube HYDRA had once wielded.

A deep thrumming filled the room, vibrating through the air and up the stones, the potential of something building made Bucky’s wings flair behind his back.

Then the glyphs along the demon gate began to glow, first green like the stone and then to a bright blue that made Bucky’s heart clench with fear. Strange blue lights often accompanied the demonic rituals HYDRA had conducted on him, but he swallowed down the panic and didn’t blink.

The charge in the air built higher and higher, until with a crackle of electricity, the empty space between the archway suddenly filled with light. It pulled outward to the edges, a border of blue around a watery image that sharpened into something Bucky recognized.

The demon realm.

“I can’t hold it forever!” Strange yelled, his hands still in the same position as he somehow, impossibly, held the gateway open using the green stone around his neck. “Get moving, Sergeant!”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice.

With none of the hesitancy he’d shown the first time being confronted by a blue portal, Bucky flared his wings as he raced forward and gave one hard flap, lifting off and darting through the gateway like a missile launched from its tube.

The dry wind buffeted him from the other side and Bucky nearly nosedived into the red sand, but he managed to right himself and soar up into the air. The human side of him balked at the alien surroundings, but it was the demon part of him that Bucky needed now.

Orienting himself to the familiar magnetic fields of the planet, because in a sick way he’d been alive longer here than on Earth, and he knew this place as intimately as his home.

Turning in the direction of his territory, Bucky pushed his body as far as it would take him and flew faster than he ever had before.

Hold on, sweetheart, he prayed to her, hoping he was heard. I’m coming.

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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peachdoxie · 4 years ago

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So I decided to go to Walmart today (my first mistake) because I've absolutely been craving white cheddar cheese rice cakes and both Meijer and Kroger are sold out after I bought them all last week, and of course walking an hour both ways in the relatively cool Ohio summer of 77°F and twice that in humidity is the most logical choice. I check to make sure it's not going to rain on the The Weather Channel app, then grab my unintentionally-diluted gatorade and Cubs hat with the pride flag on it and head out.

Now, when I planned to leave it was mostly cloudy and I thought that would be fine, but the sun decided to show its sexy face and I spent most of the 2.6 mile walk limping in the sunshine since my right foot decided it was going to yell at me for putting weight on it, but I persevered and made it to Wallyworld in more or less one piece, albeit exhausted and with a headache building. I get half way to the grocery section before remembering I need a cart (I also want to buy flour) and wander my way to the front, then back to the grocery aisles. I eventually find the location where ideally there should be dozens of bags of white cheddar cheese rice cakes for me to purchase, but, alas—they have all the flavors but white cheddar cheese, and so I have to settle for white cheddar cheese poppéd cörn triangles instead. With my disappointing spoils of war, I hobble to the self-checkout and legally purchase my corn triangles and flour.

At this point I'm really feeling like crap and am totally dreading heading back out in the heat, so I plunk myself and my mostly-empty cart down at the Walmart Sbubby (eet freesh) and play around on my phone, hoping that taking a break off my feet in the aircon will help me stop feeling like crap. After sitting for a bit, I get up, push my cart to the exit, stare outside with a mounting sense of dread, return the cart, and then walk back inside to the Sbubby, wondering how long I can loiter before they kick me out, when my body finally decides to inform me that holy shit you need some more calories girl. Hmm, I think. Maybe this is why I feel like crap.

The problem is that I don't really want Subway—I've mostly forgotten/ignored there's an entire Walmart behind me, as any sane person should—because it's Subway, and also because I was hoping to stop by the Italian restaurant on the way home and get some spaghetti, since eating a Subway sandwich will make me not hungry for the very excellent spaghetti that I don't get the chance to eat since I only go to this area of town when I can justify walking an hour for something, which apparently includes white cheddar cheese rice cakes but not spaghetti. I'm wondering how much the Subway Sandwich Artist™ will judge me if I just get a six inch with nothing but cheese on it when my eyes fall upon what I instantly know will be my savior: a soft pretzel covered in butter and salt.

"One salted pretzel," I say, somehow coherent, "and a regular fountain drink" because I'd also like some soda because why not. The Subway Sandwich Artist™ obligingly gives me my pretzel, which I legally purchase along with the soda. I sit down with my ambrosia and nectar and immediately regret my decision: Hellworld's attempt to cool its firey pits is super loud and I am quickly descending into the sensory overload layer of hell. Luckily, this Subway has a back area where it is 2% quieter into which I can retreat. I do, I wipe off half the salt because I'm not a masochist, and begin consuming the pretzel.

While this is happening, I'm updating my friends on discord as to my situation, and I recall the time my sister passed out while on a hike in Albania because she got overheated and threw off her salt balance, and I think, hmm, this is probably what's happening to me. And sure enough, after eating the pretzel and downing the soda has made me feel better! Yay! I mean, I still feel like crap, but crap that can at least attempt to make the walk home. It's like an hour after I arrived to Walmart at this point and 45 minutes of that has been me in this Subway. I throw out my trash, pack up my things, and head to the exit.

It is now pouring down rain.

Curse you, The Weather Channel! I shake my fist at the sky. Curse you for lying to me! I trusted you! My tears rival the rain.

I am now faced with walking home in the pouring down rain, thus missing out on my spaghetti, or remaining in the Walmart Subway for even more time, despite my health bar being rapidly drained by proximity to the megacorporation's holy temple. I check the The Weather Channel app to see what they say, knowing they are untrustworthy, and see that it's supposed to rain for the next few hours.

Fuck it. I'm going to go buy a rain poncho to protect my flour and just sacrifice my shoes to the puddle gods since the sidewalks here range from "flat" to "expert mountain climbers only" and I know my feet will be soaked within five seconds of leaving the building. First, though, I want to use the toilet, but the one at the front is being cleaned, so I head to the back. Granted, I had to go there anyway since I figured the sporting goods area is the most likely to have a rain poncho.

I cannot find the rain poncho. I've been in this Walmart for over an hour and a half at this point.

I go back to the front in the off chance the seasonal picnic aisles might have one, cringe at the bountiful supply of American Patriotic Equipment, and eventually give up and ask the greeter lady where I can find a rain poncho. Aisle L24, aka one of the camping aisles in the back of the store. I've already searched there but apparently cannot read, because I find them this time, begrudgingly grab the blue since they don't make pink in the adult size, and return, once more, to the front of the store, where I legally purchase the poncho.

In the ten minutes it took me to decide to find the rain poncho and buy it, it's stopped raining and the sun is shining because of course it is.

#anecdotes by peachdoxie #at least i got my spaghetti #now i only have two miles to walk back to my apartment #where i will promptly collapse on the couch

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babiemingoo · 4 years ago

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fantasy faire || yoon jeonghan

summary: [apart of the seventeen stars to the right series] jeonghan figures babysitting his niece at disneyland can’t be that bad, but it definitely gets better when he finds out you’re the cast member assisting his niece’s favorite princess, cinderella.

genre: fluff, cutie uncle!jeonghan || wc: 2.3k

a/n: yes I did take too long to post this and yes I did go overboard... i’m sorry

I’m definitely the only college kid that has to spend their Saturdays like this, Jeonghan thinks to himself for the second time that month. When he had spent all those nights in high school imagining the crazy parties and wild events he’d attend on his Saturdays in college, there was never any 4 year old niece involved, and definitely no Disneyland either. Yet here he was, his right pointer and middle fingers wrapped tightly around his niece’s hand as she tugs him towards the opening gates of the amusement park. Despite the fact that he did want to go out day drinking with his friends like normal college students did, he also couldn’t complain too much. A free year pass to Disneyland and getting paid just to spend the day with his niece every week? There’s worse things to do on a Saturday.

Still, Jeonghan curses his need for money in the back of his head when a mere 15 seconds after stepping into the park his niece won’t stop begging him to go to the Royal Hall, of all places. “Uncle Hannie pleaseee you told me last time that you’d let me meet Cinderella!” He tries not to groan at the way his niece looks up at him, eyes pleading and much too big for his dwindling resolve.

“Why do you want to go there?! Don’t you want to, like, ride Space Mountain or something?” Jeonghan complains to her as they walk down Main Street, wearing matching Mickey and Minnie Disney ears while weaving through the overwhelming crowds of families and couples.

His niece lets out a whine just as they pass some teenager asking her parents for pictures in front of the castle, “I want to meet Cinderella! She’s my favorite! Uncle Hannie pleaseee!” Her walking halts and she begins to stomp her feet in protest. “You’re such a meanie, you told me last time we came that we would see Cinderella and the time before that and the first time and-”

“Fine!” Jeonghan thought he was first at a lot of things in life, but his niece definitely has him beat in the whining and persistence departments, “We can go see Cinderella at the Royal Hall, but only once today okay? We’re not going over and over again.”

His niece pouts, but doesn’t complain further as she makes her way to the left where the hall was located. Disneyland was always fun - it was Disneyland - but Jeonghan wishes he could enjoy it to it’s full potential rather than being dragged around to visit people in costumes and watching the same shows over and over again.

-----

The boy watches as his niece makes small conversation with the cast member dressed as Ariel. They had to wait in line for 45 minutes to get into the meet and greet and his niece only looks half amused when the princess asks her if she’s met any new fish friends lately. Jeonghan doesn’t say much during their interaction aside from taking a few pictures to show his aunt later and thanking the cast members for their time.

Almost immediately after Ariel bids her goodbyes, the little girl goes taking off around the corner, calling out a, “Cinderelly Cinderelly!” in excitement. Jeonghan rushes to keep up, and right as he rounds the corner himself he sees his niece happily jumping into the arms of the woman dressed in blue.

He already knows this is going to take twice as long as Ariel’s meet and greet did; his niece is already spewing off about how she wants her own castle with a mouse named Gus Gus and a carriage shaped like a pumpkin. With a slight puff Jeonghan makes his way to stand next to the cast attendant with Cinderella and for the first time today it’s his heart that goes pumping with excitement.

You stand next to the pillar with a smile watching the interaction between the princess and Jeonghan’s niece. You loved your job of attending to the princesses at the Royal Hall - the way a few magical minutes in someone’s day always makes the tiring hours more than worth it. You beam as Jeonghan’s niece claps her hands while speaking to Cinderella, questioning her on whether or not the King and Queen of the kingdom forced her to eat broccoli, too.

Since starting your job at Disneyland, there were many days where you and your favorite coworker would talk after a shift to discuss the cute guys that would funnel in and out of the parks. Turning to look at the man who came into your area with the little girl, you knew today would be one of those days. “Is she your sister?” You decide to ask, you know, for good measure. He technically looked old enough to have a child around the girl’s age, but you learned the hard way it’s better not to assume.

“Niece,” He answers with a small smile once he settles next to you. Jeonghan lets a few moments pass as he watches his niece happily bounce next to the princess, but in the corner of his eye he’s watching you. You were probably one of the cutest people he’s ever seen - if not the cutest. Knowing he only has a limited amount of time before the family on the other side of the wall moves on to get their meeting with Cinderella, the man attempts to strike up a conversation, “My sister makes me bring her to Disneyland every Saturday.”

“Every Saturday?!” Your eyes get wide, turning to fully face the man, “Did you have to buy an annual pass for that?”

“Nah, they pay for it.” The boy decides to face you completely in response while rubbing his fingers together, “My sister married well.” For a split second he wonders if he should’ve lied and said he did pay for it all himself - to impress you or something.

Your mouth opens to reply, but you’re quickly distracted when you catch the two girls posing for a picture. Despite your desire to talk to the cute guy, you know you’re technically still on the clock, so you cut the conversation in favor of taking pictures of his niece with her favorite princess. Jeonghan decides to do the same and pulls out his phone for pictures, but really, his attention is on you the entire time.

-----

When his niece first begged to meet Cinderella, Jeonghan fully prepared to tell her every week following that they can’t go the Royal Hall for whatever made up reason and somehow convince her to go on a ride instead.

However, with the thought of you, the cute cast member replaying on his mind like a loop, he doesn’t complain for a second when his niece asks to see the princess in blue. In fact, it’s become a habit to head straight to the left whenever they enter the parks. Sometimes Jeonghan even takes his niece through the meet and greet twice if she behaves well (but she doesn’t really have to do anything. He just wants an excuse to see you again).

With their new routine in play, you and Jeonghan become more and more familiar with each other. You learn each other’s names, where the two of you go to school, and even things as in depth as Jeonghan’s love for basketball and the story of how you came to work for Disney. He figures out that your shift ends at 3pm every Saturday and he always seems to make it at least once before you’re off. Coming to Disneyland goes from babysitting his niece to borderline using the little girl as an excuse to talk to you. The bond you two create is simple, and definitely unexpected from your job of working with families and couples more often than not, but it’s special; even magical in a way.

So when Jeonghan’s niece makes a move to go right instead of left one Spring Saturday, Jeonghan nearly gets whiplash, “What are you doing? Don’t you want to go to the Royal Hall?”

To his surprise, the little girl shakes her head and points towards Tomorrowland, “Can we try Space Mountain instead?”

For once in his life, Jeonghan is rendered speechless. His niece never turned down an opportunity to go see her favorite princess. He does nothing but blink at her for a bit, trying to understand her sudden fixation with the opposite end of the park, until he’s pulled back to reality by her tugging on his hand again, “Do you want to see Cinderella later, then?”

Jeonghan’s okay with going on the ride first - as long as they get into the Royal Hall by 3pm. “No,” His niece suddenly answers and the boy can only imagine how high his eyebrows raise, “I don’t really like Cinderella anymore.”

“You what?!” Jeonghan drops down to the girl’s eye level to shake her shoulders dramatically, “What do you mean you don’t like Cinderella?! She’s your favorite!”

“Not anymore, I watched Frozen yesterday and Elsa’s dress is prettier. She’s my favorite now!” He’s sure this could go in a Youtube compilation of Top 10 Anime Betrayals, “I wanna go see Elsa today instead!”

“Screw Elsa!” Jeonghan forgets for a second just where he is, catching a middle aged mom in the corner of his eye covering her daughter’s ears. Clearing his throat and bringing his tone down, he continues, “You like Cinderella, okay? When we get back to your house later tonight we can watch all the Cinderella movies and I’ll even buy you a doll today! But we're not going to see Elsa! We’re seeing Cinderella!”

The small girl, as expected, isn’t very happy with his demands. She begins to stomp and whine like that first day he took her to meet the princess, and although she got the best of him that time, it’s not happening today. “Why can’t we see Elsa?!”

“Because-” Jeonghan pauses to bring his voice down once again, “Cinderella’s friend is really, really cute, okay? And Uncle Hannie really wants to get their phone number. So, we’re going to see Cinderella and later on when Cinderella’s cute friend doesn’t have to work anymore we can go see Elsa, I promise.” With his pinky stretched out, he’s hoping his explanation suffices. His niece was young and maybe she won’t understand just how desperately he wants those two or three minutes with you every week; but it’s worth a shot.

For a second, she does nothing but stare at his outstretched hand, almost as if she’s weighing her options. Then, with a small smile, she lifts her small hand to meet his and hooks their pinkies together, “Okay.”

-----

Today, Cinderella is placed at the end of the Royal Hall, and Jeonghan’s sure that his niece knows exactly what she’s doing when she nearly flies through the first two princesses with little to no conversation. He decides not to point it out though, and just goes through the routine of taking a picture and thanking the workers.

Jeonghan wonders how the interaction between his niece and Cinderella will go; will she pretend to be interested? Will she tell Cinderella that she’s found a new favorite? Or, worst of all: will she take nearly no time with the princess, and Jeonghan will be forced to talk to you for less than a second before having to leave?

Surprisingly, his niece does none of the three. Without even sparing Cinderella a glance, she immediately marches over to you standing in your usual spot against the pillar and says, “My Uncle thinks you’re cute.”

Silence. Jeonghan, despite being a naturally confident guy, doesn’t know what to do when you look up from his niece with an amused smile. Even Cinderella seems to lose character for a few moments when she slaps her hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh. Before Jeonghan can open his mouth to redeem himself, you look back down at his niece, “Oh? Does he?”

“Yes! I told Uncle Hannie I wanted to meet Elsa today but he made me come here because he said you’re really cute and he wants your phone number,” The girl replies and Jeonghan wonders where kids learn this stuff. “Can you give him your phone number so I can see Elsa now?”

Jeonghan sighs. This would happen to him. It’s probably karma for using his innocent niece as a way to talk to you. What is he even supposed to say now? Breaking into an awkward smile, he grabs his niece by the shoulder and shrugs, “Uh, kids, right?” Damn kids.

You laugh for a few seconds before lowering down to his niece’s level and grinning at the girl, “Tell your Uncle, that I think he’s really, really cute,” You spare a glance at the man briefly, “And that I’m flattered he’d like to get my phone number. But it’s against the Disneyland rules for me to give it to him.”

Of course it is, he thinks to himself. Leave it to the happiest place on Earth to ruin his chances with you. Jeonghan’s about to nod in understanding and motion for his niece to (very quickly) finish her meet and greet and he can stuff his face with churros for the rest of the day. But before he can make any sort of moves you continue, “However… If you and your Uncle were to see me at the castle around 3:30 after my shift today… I’m sure Mickey wouldn’t mind, right?”

“He wouldn’t!” His niece answers happily before jumping up and down, facing Jeonghan to say, “Can we see Elsa before then?!”

Chuckling (mostly to mask his sigh of relief and excitement), Jeonghan nods and points to Cinderella across the room, “Finish saying hi to Cinderella and I’ll take you to meet Elsa right after this.”

The little girl squeals in happiness before running over to the woman in blue, who he knows is giving him a knowing look. Jeonghan fits into his spot next to you, whispering through a smile, “So… churros at 3:30 then?”

You beam at him, nodding, “It’s a date.”

#caratwritersclub #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen one shot #kpop #kpop fics #seventeen x reader #kpop au #seventeen au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

Text

Correspondence, Chapter 04

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Action-y in that there is offscreen violence and peril, injuries, talk of surgery and symptoms/effects of medical grade narcotics (morphine), more on that big ol’ age difference. Side notes: Agent Anderson of the L.A. field office has no relation to Agent Anderson of Quantico, VA, because Agent Anderson of the BAU is a national treasure. (I’m considering going back and renaming the OC, but as of right now this is the last we hear of him for a while). And I know no one really pays attention to them, but the time stamps on the texts match the time zone of the scene setting. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 8893

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 04

Late September 2010

Spencer Reid wakes up to the early grey morning two weeks later, a perpetual haze shrouding his room long before his alarm was supposed to rouse him. He reaches blindly, blearing eyed and checks his phone for what feels like the hundredth time, only to find no messages waiting for him. A terrible, horrid feeling has been clawing at his chest and throat the longer it gets -- the more time that passes -- and he still hasn’t heard from Hotch.

They’ve been messaging each other near constantly for months now, and it only seemed to get more intense after that fateful talk at the beginning of September. Where Hotch finally revealed he’d thought Spencer was much older than him, and not the other way around. Spencer had set him straight, as much as he could, and even that had been nerve-wracking to say the least. The two men were crossing into a territory neither really wanted to put a label on, and Spencer was both afraid of it and excited by it. Of what it could mean, and how long it could last, but he’d thought he’d had time to figure out a solution to his inadvertent secrecy.

Then, Hotch began working a case in Delaware two days ago.

It seemed like a textbook unsub; maybe a little aggressive with anti-establishment overtones, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing the BAU hasn’t seen before. They’d been closing in on the suspect, no location yet but some prospects that needed checking out, and the last Spencer had heard from Hotch…

It had been lunchtime for him, and midafternoon for the older man. The exchange hadn’t been anything of consequence, just their usual, easy correspondence. Hotch was going to check out that lead they’d spoken of, Spencer had a budget meeting as soon as he was done eating in the middle of his office hours, and they had a plan to play chess online that night. Hotch is still terrible at it, but he keeps coming back no matter how thoroughly Spencer wipes the floor with him. Now, sometimes they just forget about the game entirely after the first few minutes. It makes him smile each and every time, soft and fond and lighting a warmth inside him Spencer has… never felt before.

Then Hotch hadn’t messaged him the rest of the night.

Hadn’t shown up online to play chess.

Hadn’t texted him goodnight, or even sent him an update on the case.

Nothing in their conversations warranted such ostracization, and although Spencer has been ‘ghosted’ before (as his doctoral students would say) he knows Hotch would never do that. Not after everything, the history they’ve built the past months -- leaving nothing but the dread to sink in and spread like a stain.

All night, he imagines the worst.

By morning, he all but expects it.

[]9/22, 18:59[] Are you alright? Did something happen with the case?

[]9/22, 19:10[] If you were that scared of losing at chess, I can also beat you at online poker instead.

[]9/22, 19:30[] I’d suggest scrabble but that’s honestly not fair to you.

[]9/22, 21:55[] Hotch?

[]9/22, 22:30[] I’m assuming that lead panned out, and you caught your unsub and are neck deep in interrogation.

[]9/22, 22:36[] I don’t want to imagine anything else, so that’s what I will picture.

[]9/23, 00:06[] Hotch please answer me.

[]9/23, 05:32[] Please be okay.

Spencer arrives at Caltech looking a little more of a mess than usual. More than most are used to seeing him, at least, and it causes a few second glances from students he passes and other faculty -- but he really can’t find it in himself to care, this morning. His unruly curls, getting longer again, falling into his face and over his ears, are frizzy in their unkemptness. Bags under his eyes, normal, but he’s settled for glasses instead of his contacts. He has a spare pair in his desk, he’ll have to change them before class. His glasses somehow always make him look even younger. A mystery that boggles the mind, because once he had grown into his face a few years ago (around 26 or 27, close enough he had worried he would forever be cursed with a ‘baby face’) Spencer had thought he would finally be getting away from that.

And yet, square jaw and ‘grandpa’ glasses and thin frame towering just over six feet did nothing in the slightest to aid him. Certainly not stopping a man outside the campus coffee shop from shouting “Watch where you’re going, kid!” as he near barrels over him on the sidewalk. Not his sweater vest or half suits, attire straight out of a 1940’s noir film (he’d even sported a vintage inspired undercut with his waves combed over for a while there, too. Way too much upkeep, as nice as it looked). Nothing makes him any more grown up in the eyes of the unsuspecting world, than he’d been without his five doctorates and board of director’s seat. No matter what he tried, it seems.

This has been a subliminal thing for years, something Spencer always said didn’t bother him in the slightest. And for a long time he didn’t care one way or the other, he just kept getting more degrees. All his life Spencer has been ‘too young’, always been ‘kid’ or ‘sport’ or ‘tiger’, even when running quantum physics equations in his head. And it didn’t matter. Not with his credentials and accomplishments and everything he now has to his name.

Until Hotch.

Now, Spencer cares.

Notices, even through his haze of worry and sleeplessness, how on the street it’s “Watch it, kid!” and fifteen yards later it’s “Good morning, Dr. Reid” as he steps into the Physics building where everyone knows him on sight. Knows him, and what he’s capable of.

What if when Hotch met him all he saw was… another kid?

If they ever met.

“Whoa, rough night Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, you could say that,” he mumbles out as he signs in and scans his ID card, taking the stack of mail that the desk attendant hands him. But stops before he gets too far from the desk, backtracking. “Hey, have you watched the news this morning? Did anything show up about New England or Delaware?”

“Not that I saw, Dr. Reid,” she says in confusion, looking up from where she had been texting on her phone. “Just a whole lot of coverage on the shitshow at capital hill, as usual. Oh, and more depressing reports about the earthquake clean-up in New Zealand.”

Of course, why would there be a news story about a killer in Delaware here in California. He’d have to look up everything online himself.

“Thanks anyway, Carla.”

“No problem, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch and his team are working. He usually prefers paper copies of news media, at first barely knowing where to begin, but he falls into a wormhole of news outlets and local Delaware station websites, reading the thousands of webpages faster than he can scroll and click through them. But he can’t find anything pointing to a disturbance related to the case. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be a part of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. Spencer gives up after an hour, and diverts to other resources. Ones with a direct line to Hotch.

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]8/21, 15:36[] You're going to get me in trouble.

[]8/21, 15:38[] You didn’t laugh in front of your team, did you? The scandal.

[]8/21, 15:42[] I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[]8/21, 15:43[] Then why are you checking your phone?

[]8/21, 15:45[] You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague.

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules, the unspoken ones that always kept this friendship easy and free-flowing and evolving into something more.

But this feels like the closest to an emergency they’ve ever encountered before.

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Listed in bullet points behind his eyes. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is. He still didn’t have a plan for that, wracking his overworked brain day and night for a way to incorporate the information into a conversation that wouldn’t stop everything in its tracks.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath.

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes fail him as he realizes far too late that he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time, anyway. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by like water through his fingers and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, relief a flash flood on his nerves that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call.

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it.

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

Please let me know of his well-being.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s.

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, for now, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

His morning routine progresses as usual, as if nothing at all is wrong with the world. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well.

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. The juxtaposition of his daily routine and this unfounded worry throws him entirely off kilter, and all of his students seem to know right away.

Then, his distraction reaches its peak when his email pings, right in the middle of his department announcements. A response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is in surgery, Hotch is hurt, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt.

She doesn’t know when he will be--

If he will be --

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a fraction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted.

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Teetering on the edge of panic. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

The reply is almost immediate.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room for any immediate actions.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. Utilizing anything and everything he can do to aid the BAU team, and whatever Hotch has gotten himself into. But then, his mind sticks on something from the email. Boy Wonder. It stalls his hands mid-movement.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch? Wouldn’t she send the files to him directly? Had Hotch really known, all along?

Or did she do it on her own, and not tell him? Assuming her boss already knew everything about him. It’s too many questions and possibilities and they are interfering with what’s most important right now. Best to get it out of the way, no time to be indirect about it.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

Spencer hadn’t meant for it to be a secret at all, it just happened that way.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, like he and Hotch had discussed the previous day, aiming for specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or labels as official.

It’s easy to see, now, why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders when the unsub still hesitated -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean.

Except, every victim’s hospital records show elevated potassium rates. Spencer’s hands, skimming down each and every page quick as they can, stop on a dime as his gaze zero in on the information.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “--Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?”

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “...Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

There’s more typing going on and Ms. Garcia’s breathing has gone a little labored.

“Alright, alright I’m getting patched through. What else can you tell me?”

“I think he’s been dosed with something called an XG Compound, either Eastman or Zhao I have to look up the specific components and chemist. But they are a series of banned, experimental military-grade drugs that suffer effects of thinning the blood, that’s why they can’t stop the bleeding around his stab wounds and old scar tissue.” Hotch’s old wounds from Foyet would only exacerbate the condition, once it reached the kidney failure stage, but up until then the intrusions of hardened tissue is the only reason his abdominal cavity hasn’t been flooded with blood and drowned out his other organs.

“Okay, okay I’m through, I’m keeping you on the line. Stand by-- ” then she clicks over and he’s left with a pulsating silence. Nothing remaining but continuing his work, and hoping he’d called in time. Hoping that Hotch will be alright.

Spencer is digging through his floor to ceiling bookshelves for the biology book on airborne pathogens given to him by a visiting Professor two years ago and he is hating himself for never cracking it in that moment. It’s nearly the last book he gets a hand on, because of course it is, and he makes it a third of the way through the book before Garcia is back on the line. The phone on the floor beside him and just barely within reach.

“You literal genius, I could kiss you,” Garcia tells him in what can only be overstated relief, and Spencer snatches up his phone with a very undignified scramble. “They’ve had to do two transfusions on him and are prepping a third, but you were right he’s been dosed with that XG compound.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Spencer asks, still cross-legged on his office floor surrounded by books and holding his phone to his ear like a lifeline.

“Yes, yes my dear he’s going to be alright. They think. He’s not out of the woods yet and the surgery is still going on, but he -- he would have died within the next hour if you hadn’t found out what was wrong.”

Spencer’s heart is in his throat, her words doing the exact opposite of reassuring him. Hotch had been that close to dying, to being forever out of reach, because Spencer had been too scared to pick up the phone.

“I should have called sooner,” he says, so quiet even someone in the room wouldn’t have heard him correctly. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Oh no, sugar don’t think like that. You just saved his life,” she pauses, like she wants to say something else, but diverts to an adjacent topic. “How did you know?”

“Autopsy reports. There wasn’t enough blood left in the bodies, they bled out too quickly. Then I saw the elevated Potassium,” he murmurs it all, rattled off without really thinking about it.

“And you just… knew all of that, without looking anything up?”

“That’s basically what I do. The only reason anyone calls me,” Spencer laughs but it holds no humor. “I know too much, make connections, and drink too much coffee.”

“You drink and know things, oh God I hope you get that reference because you’re getting a coffee mug.”

Spencer laughs a little, despite the situation, and feels… lighter, somehow, even with the worry still plaguing him. Caught up in his chest like a bad cold.

“I’m reading this textbook on airborne pathogens, I have a hunch, and I’ll send you anything I find that can help with the case,” Spencer continues, his voice not so heavy for a moment. “Just… tell me when he’s out of surgery? Keep me posted?”

“Of course, honey, you’ll be my first message,” Ms. Garcia assures him, but then she pauses again -- and he almost hangs up because it feels too anticipatory. “You should tell him, B.T.Dubs.”

Spencer hesitates more than is probably necessary.

“... I don’t know what good that will do,” he admits, quiet and unsure. “I’m not -- I’m not ready for this to be over.”

“You’re not that young, honey. Does he know you like him?”

“Mmhmm,” Spencer makes a nervous, affirmative sound. “And… he likes me, or who he thinks I am.”

“Don’t write him off just yet, Doc, let him speak for himself when he wakes up,” Ms. Garcia all but scolds him, in as gentle a way as possible and Spencer appreciates that, at least.

“--I’ll think about it.”

Not long after Spencer finds what he’s looking for: military grade poisons that were banned for causing adverse effects, listed and categorized by chemist and agency. It is the Eastman compound, originated during the first invasion of Afghanistan. Their unsub has prolonged exposure, Spencer is sure, and that will narrow down the suspect pool immensely.

After he sends the information to Ms. Garcia, Spencer looks to his phone once more, where there is a block of text all from him himself in his correspondence with Hotch. Begging him to be alright, to answer him, and now that he knows that the man has a fighting chance -- or as much of one as he will be able to have, with where advanced medicine resides in the current conjecture of time -- there really isn’t much he can do now. But hope. And wait. And pray.

Except Spencer doesn’t believe in prayer, or God, or anything that might hear him. The only thing he really believes in is science, and facts, and none of that is very helpful to him right now. Except maybe the coincidental balance of the universe, in a theoretical physics sense, and unexplained phenomenon that have an equal and spatial balance to it. Anything with the descriptor ‘unexplained’ always draws him in like a moth to flame, and he knows he can typically find a semblance of comfort in the way his brain constantly connects dots and far off specks of information that not everyone can see at first glance. Constellations in the sky. But only when he has someone to tell it to, that even pretends to listen for a moment, and for a long while now… Hotch has been that someone. Hotch always listens to him.

Before he knows it, he’s typing into the text box once more --

[]9/23, 11:10[] You’re in surgery still, but Ms. Garcia has confirmed the treatments are working and they are able to actually repair the damage instead of treading water like they have been the past ten hours. I’ve had her personally in contact with the doctors and surgical staff, and all they’ve been able to tell us is to let them work and just pray for you.

[]9/23, 11:13[] Which is such an odd thing; men of science telling people to pray like the outcome of a surgery isn’t in their hands, but some theoretical astronomical entity. I know it’s probably just a ‘bedside-manner’ tactic, but it doesn’t help me in the slightest so it just irks me instead.

[]9/23, 11:15[] I don’t believe in prayer -- a shock, I’m sure -- but I do believe in the phenomenon of universal affirmation. It’s an interesting trend in history and spans cultures where if someone has something awaiting them, to live for, even if they are unaware of it… they will fight harder to cling to life.

[]9/23, 11:18[] But I also know you will fight tooth and nail for Jack, and for your team that you treat like family, and maybe even me. I’d like to hope I’m included in that, and no amount of books or IQ points can make me think of something to contribute to help you keep fighting.

[]9/23, 11:19[] Just please keep fighting. Come back. And if I come up with something to entice you… I’ll let you know.

It eases a lot of the tension in his chest, talking to Hotch like this -- even if he’s just talking at him, in a place where he might never know what Spencer has had to say. But he can hope. Hope that Hotch will wake up and have thirty missed messages and see they are all from Spencer and it will make him smile.

Spencer would give anything to see him smile, and he allows himself to hope that one day... he might get to.

He might as well, while he’s sitting there hopelessly hoping for things beyond his control.

Come back to me.

Spencer almost types it out, can see it in the text window though he hasn’t pressed a single letter, and closes his phone before he can. Pressing it to his mouth and closing his eyes and just…

Hoping.

The hours roll over into the afternoon, and there’s still no word.

Spencer has spent the majority of the day messaging Ms. Garcia, who has had no information beyond trivial updates here and there and Spencer has read more about surgical procedures and practices than he has in his entire life. Even raided the biology department’s library, surrounding himself with the comfort of books and files and filled his head with the soothing monotony of medical terms and safety protocols.

But once noon has come and gone he finds himself staring into the bookshelves across from where he sits on the floor, among stacks of textbooks, with an epiphany trying to make itself known to him. Despite his every attempt to ignore it.

His phone is back in his hand, there’s an email correspondence from Ms. Garcia that only briefly says Still nothing. And that makes up Spencer’s mind.

[]9/23, 12:49[] I’ve thought of something.

What he types next makes it hard to breathe, his heart lodged in his throat, and it all comes flowing out of him much like before. His fingers keep moving, his emotional part of his brain steam-rolls over the rational one, and then he’s done and he’s tacked on six extra messages and Spencer has to put his phone away before he rereads it beyond what is deemed healthy or sane.

Because he’s done what he could, and all he can do is believe that will be enough to… subliminally keep Hotch fighting. The day is only half over, and Spencer feels like he hasn’t slept in a week.

It would be hours before he got the message that would send relief through his spine like a shot of Novocain. Just three words from Ms. Garcia, sent in haste in a text instead of an email.

{}9/23, 14:58{} He’s in recovery.

Hotch wakes up just barely the first time, the room spinning and hit with that familiar smell of anesthesia he can always taste as it fills his senses, before he slips back under.

The second time is to a small pencil light being flashed in his eyes, staccato movements meant to test his pupil reactions, and an older woman in nurse’s scrubs saying his name and calling to him. He hums an affirmative, even though he isn’t fully returned to a working state of mind. Instinct, more than clarity.

“Welcome back, Agent Hotchner.”

“About damn time,” he hears Prentiss say from somewhere across the room. Probably leaning the wall, if that faux drone is anything to go by. The nurse gives her a look but his agent isn’t even fazed by it, as far as Hotch can see. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust that far. But he knows the look well enough he doesn’t actually have to see it.

“Where is everyone? Is anyone else hurt?” Hotch can feel the words form on his tongue, droned out in a haze, his mind slowly coming back to him.

“Good to see you, too, boss,” Prentiss says in mild exacerbation, coming up to the side of his bed but not taking a seat. She must have been waiting a long time, her whole stance jittery just like after long flights on cases. “Everyone is fine, you’re the only one that got into a knife fight with an unsub who’s into biological warfare.” Hotch blinks at her, trying to make her words make sense without asking it of her. He remembers going to a warehouse to follow a lead, but not much else after that. It’s coming back too slowly to keep up with her. Prentiss just sighs, and repeats herself. “Everyone is fine.”

She regales him with a play by play, his own memories appearing like raindrops on a windshield to accompany her commentary. Slowly beginning to form a picture of what had happened. He’d been stabbed before, more than he cares to think about, and he’s been dosed with military-grade drugs before as well -- but never both at the same time. No wonder he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

“You’re lucky to be alive, honestly,” she points out, hip resting against the plastic side panels of his hospital bed.

“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

“And your phone has been blowing up like crazy.”

Hotch is finally able to sit up enough and see straight without his vision swimming, to find that his agent does indeed have his cell phone in her hands.

“What?”

“Yeah, eight missed calls and three voicemails, and--” she squints at the screen before looking at him in astonished confusion, “eighty-seven missed text messages, from a whole bunch of people. I’m not reading through all of them. I didn’t know you were that popular.”

“I’m the Unit Chief, popularity has nothing to do with it,” Hotch deadpans, more himself. Wanting to reach for his phone but his arms are still dealing with pins and needles sensations, sluggish to lift and his fingers uncooperative. “Who called me eight times?”

“Let’s see,” she unlocks his phone -- somehow, god damn it Prentiss -- and scrolls through his notifications. “Two calls from Jessica, one from me, three from Strauss (Jesus), one from Dr. Reid, and one from Garcia. It doesn’t say who the voicemails are from.”

Hotch suddenly feels much more alert, his heart rate monitor picking up but he does his best not to draw attention to it, instead looking up at Prentiss as carefully guarded as he ever is.

“Dr. Reid called?” he tries to keep his voice even, and unaffected, but the aftereffects of the drugs in his system leave a little more hitch in his voice than he would have liked.

“Yeah, he’s been talking to Garcia,” Prentiss says without much comment, still scrolling through his phone and making Hotch a little more than nervous. “Busted the case wide open, and saved your life while he was at it. We never would have known you were dosed with something if he hadn’t figured it out. Think you owe that old man a fruit basket.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Don’t think you’re supposed to have it,” she says without looking up, still scrolling through his notifications. “Lots of junk e-mail…”

“One of those voicemails is probably Jack, I should call and let them know I’m alright,” Hotch tries to reason with her.

“He and Jess are already on their way up, they’ll land in an hour,” Prentiss tells him, but looks over her shoulder for that nurse as she makes to hand Hotch his phone anyway. Still hesitant despite her predilections to breaking every rule she can get away with.

“I still want it back,” Hotch insists, regretting saying it as soon as he does.

It catches Prentiss’ attention a little too sharply. “...why?” But at Hotch’s steady stare and solid silence, unwavering like he hadn’t just been in surgery for hours on end, she finally relents and hands it over, still giving him a suspicious look.

“It’s important,” he finally admits, when she doesn’t stop staring for a good couple of minutes. Those perfectly shaped eyebrows raise near to her hairline, the profiler in her connecting more dots than should be humanly possible.

A small smile teases her lips, though not fully forming there. “Now I wish I’d read them.”

Hotch just gives her a reprimanding look of his own, but it’s short lived.

“Thank you, for staying.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Prentiss assures him, her smile going softer. “I’ll leave you to your mystery woman.” A beat, another raised eyebrow. “Person.” A knowing look, but then she exits and Hotch is able to look at his phone at his own discretion.

Hotch goes through the text messages with a brief glance; there’s so many of them. Other agents and agencies, his team in a group chat Garcia had started, Jessica left fifteen before someone got a hold of her, and Jack’s school sending reminders about soccer and parent teacher conferences.

But 39 are from Spencer, and his heart constricts in his chest at the worry he must have caused the man. Aches next to the scars on his chest and the blood that doesn’t belong to him in his veins. And somewhere in the recesses of his mind, it’s coupled with a torturous feeling of longing. Even subtle jealousy, because even half drugged out of his mind Hotch hadn’t missed the precise word choices Prentiss used. Garcia has been talking to Spencer -- talking.

Garcia got to hear him.

She talked to Spencer, when he still hadn’t, because of some unspoken rule Hotch isn’t even sure when they decided upon. He still knew so little about the man, and Spencer’s voice could tell him so much with just a few words. He could fill volumes with what he would learn from just a single message --

Without much further thought, Hotch pulls up his voice mail. Listens to the automated voices and the three messages there. None are from Spencer, although his heart had beat a little harder in anticipation -- enough his heart monitor beeped audibly next to him. Embarrassing as that was, like a lovestruck teenager. He’d glared at it and centered his breathing until his heart rate slowed back down, not wanting to alert the nurses station. Two of the voicemails are from Jessica’s phone, one of her worried out of her mind, and the other of Jack telling him they are coming to see him and he hopes he feels better soon. Just listening to his son speak more strongly than his aunt had or anyone else should in his situation, telling his daddy he loves him while the sounds of a commercial airline filter through the background, makes Hotch want to smile and sob all at once.

The last voicemail is from Garcia, telling him a similar story to what Prentiss had earlier, but with a bit more detail on her end. How ‘Dr. Reid’ called her out of the blue, because there had been no time for his usual emails, and gave them the information that saved his life. He’d been working the case diligently, ever since, and was checking up on him a lot. More than a lot. ‘Let him know you’re okay, when you wake up and get this. The poor guy is worried sick, and my updates only give him so much comfort.’

Spencer had actually called Garcia, when he hasn’t physically spoken to anyone in Quantico the entire time he’s consulted for them, just to save a few precious seconds to relay what he’d found. He’d even broken their rule, probably before hand, and called Hotch -- just to make sure he was okay. Hadn’t stopped working to help, the moment he found out he wasn’t.

It’s a strange thought, that if not for Spencer -- Hotch would be dead. That Jack would be flying up here for a very different reason.

Hotch switches over to the text messages with a lump in his throat. Not at all prepared, emotionally, but needing to know.

The 39 messages start from the night before, when they were supposed to have had their usual online chess date. They range from playful banter, teasing edged in worry, and escalate to panic as the night wears on. Anxious worry bleeding through the single sentences, building and building until that lump in his throat feels like it might block off all air soon.

Please be okay.

God, that alone starts to set a tone -- and reveals something Hotch hadn’t expected to find. Those three words give way to his speech pathology training, and all indicate that Spencer is… very likely younger than he’d originally thought. Some of Hotch’s assumptions might be close, even the teasing ones he’d only said because he’d been sure they were wrong. The other man is obviously beyond worried about him, as well. Petrified, despite knowing the risks of his job. They had become so close the past few months, were most definitely past the flirting stage and into something so tentative and wonderful Hotch can barely believe it some days. But they had never talked about this, about the possibility that Hotch might walk into a situation one day and not walk back out of it.

Spencer’s messages soon give way to him just… talking at Hotch. Relaying what was happening, philosophical rants meant to ease his own mind and Hotch finds himself smiling softly at the man’s constant stream of thought, lectures at genius levels that he still feels so compelled to share with Hotch. Because they are that close. They really, truly, are -- and it brightens the fluttering feeling in his chest all the more. How Spencer is trying, subliminally, to draw Hotch back to the light. Three thousand miles away.

Please come back.

Hotch hears it loud and clear, the come back to me. Even unwritten. And it makes his heart skip a beat, aching as it does.

Then…

[]9/23, 15:49[] I’ve thought of something.

[]9/23, 15:52[] I’m 29.

Hotch doesn’t understand, at first. But then it hits him.

Years.

29 years.

Spencer is 29 years old. Proven, further, by the following messages sent after that.

[]9/23, 15:56[] I’m a certified child prodigy, on a registry and everything. I graduated high school at just twelve years old, and had my first Ph.D. by 15. Youngest in CalTech history.

29.

Jesus Christ, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Hotch his age. 29 is… far younger than he expected.

When Spencer was born, Hotch was getting his driver’s license. 16 years difference in age…

He keeps reading, despite the numb aftermath of a bomb going off inside his head, trying to process it and also hear the younger man out.

Younger. Spencer is 16 years younger than Hotch, and he finds himself scrubbing at his face to try and wake himself up further as he reads what Spencer sent.

[]9/23, 15:57[] I turn 30 at the end of October, and I was trying to wait until then to tell you.

[]9/23, 16:00[] I’ve noticed a prominent dynamic shift in perception, between listing my age as in my 20’s and ‘almost 30’. It’s a numerical allusion our brains can’t help. You hear 29, you think 21. It happens with decades, too, once someone is outside the familial range of 10 years. +/- either side.

[]9/23, 16:02[] An age gap doesn’t sound as bad when I’m 30. That’s why I wanted to wait, just a little while longer, but if that universal affirmation phenomenon actually works for us -- I don’t mind dealing with the consequences.

[]9/23, 16:03[] Just please come back.

[]9/23, 16:07[] Please be okay.

[]9/23, 16:10[] I miss you.

His heart is about to be ripped to shreds.

Hotch feels terrible, because Spencer is right. 29 sounds so young, and it keeps repeating in his head over and over. But 29 isn’t the same as 21, he isn’t some college student still stumbling around trying to figure out his life. He has five Ph.D.’s, runs three departments at one of the best universities in the country, is consulted by the FBI and Homeland Security and very obviously has a reputation he upholds to the highest regard. Hotch had guessed Spencer was 32 not so long ago, what was the big difference between that and his actual age? From what little Spencer just shared of his life story, he’s never gotten to be a kid, so who was Hotch to consider him one? What gave him the right to be floored by this, did it actually change what he thought of Spencer? How he felt about him only moments prior to reading that?

I miss you. Come back. Please be okay.

I’m 29.

It could be the recent flirtation with death, the anesthesia or the morphine, even the gratitude that Hotch will get to see his son again and not leave him without both his parents -- there’s so many reasons for him to take pause as he considers the messages in front of him.

But it feels a lot like the months of talking, and the countless late nights spent together, that pile up and up in his chest. A rising pressure that reminds Hotch that he and Spencer have something, and it’s not a normal, regular situation for either of them. Something that precedent, and everything Hotch has ever been told to hold to standard, doesn’t seem to fit. He and Spencer don’t seem to fit, when looked at afar or even on paper -- but they do. They really do. It was never supposed to be something that could be this easy, or normal in any capacity.

But what about their lives ever was?

[]9/23, 18:26[] I’m so sorry I worried you.

[]9/23, 18:26[] I miss you, too.

[]9/23, 18:27[] If I stop answering you, the nurse took my phone away. I hate hospitals.

[]9/23, 18:29[] Hotch, you scared me to death.

[]9/23, 18:30[] I know, I’m sorry.

[]9/23, 18:31[] From what I heard, you saved my life.

[]9/23, 18:33[] I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.

[]9/23, 18:36[] Just get better.

[]9/23, 18:38[] Which means resting, don’t glare at your nurses too much. They’re there to help you.

There’s a long stretch of a pause in their correspondence, which picks up so smooth and easy it’s as if they had never stopped. Like the last few days hadn’t happened at all. But they had, they were both looking at the messages to prove that. He does take pause, maybe more than he should, and Hotch knows miles away Spencer is just as nervous. Staring at his phone.

Hotch isn’t wrong. Spencer let out such an exclamation of relief at Hotch’s name on his notifications he about sobbed with it. He never cries, hasn’t in years -- but his eyes sting with relief and worry and… an emotion he doesn’t want to name.

[]9/23, 18:44[] What day is your birthday?

[]9/23, 18:45[] October 28th.

[]9/23, 18:45[] Same week as mine. November 2nd.

Hotch pauses, again, considers his next response… and 3,000 miles away Spencer can barely blink as he stares at his phone with mounting dread.

[]9/23, 18:49[] I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It’s alright.

[]9/23, 18:51[] Am I correct in assuming you’ve never been in a relationship with this much of an age gap?

It takes Hotch a moment to even gather the courage to type that out and send it. Knows it sounds almost too formal, for them, but Hotch also knows that he and Spencer are balanced on the edge of a knife, here, and… no matter what the outcome, everything is about to change between them.

Spencer licks his lips in nervousness, reading the line over and over although he has no need to. It feels like a tipping point, and he’s still… terrified this will be his last conversation with Hotch outside of case work. Ever.

[]9/23, 18:55[] Never.

[]9/23, 18:57[] I haven’t had many relationships at all. My peer groups have always been older than me, and people my own age never understood me enough to be interested. So it’s just something I was used to, going without.

[]9/23, 18:59[] This has been… the closest thing to what I’ve been told is normal that I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never had the chance to have something like this with someone, or connect in this way. I gave up, for a long while there.

[]9/23, 19:01[] I’ve been in a similar situation before, on an intellectual spectrum.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never--

Hotch pauses, again, putting his thoughts in order. Weighing it all, before taking that final leap. Spencer waiting with baited breath, all the more.

But Hotch doesn’t regret what he sends. Not one bit.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never dated anyone younger than me like this, before, so we’ll both be on a learning curve.

[]9/23, 19:03[] But we will figure it out. Together.

Spencer’s breath catches, and he can’t seem to release it again. He can’t believe what he’s reading. What Hotch has sent him.

He said ‘dated’.

He thought they were dating. Spencer isn’t quite sure he can trust his own eyes, despite the words being there in stark black and white on his phone screen.

[]9/23, 19:06[] Dating?

Hotch smiles, because he just knows -- from that single word text -- that Spencer has sent it not in admonishment or anything negative of the sort. But in hope. Confident that he recognizes the nuance in Spencer's voice even without ever having heard it, Hotch just knows, and it makes warmth blossom anew in his chest. Sends his heart rate monitor skittering across the machine all over again.

[]9/23, 19:08[] Hate to be the one to tell you, but all of those late nights where we talked for hours instead of playing chess? Those were dates.

Spencer has his hand over his mouth, still in disbelief that he hadn’t… fucked this up beyond repair. That his age hadn’t been the deal breaker he’d feared so vehemently for months now. That everything is still as it was, age difference and life-threatening situation, aside.

They were dating. All this time.

[]9/23, 19:10[] I should have worn nicer clothes.

Hotch laughs at his phone at the same time Spencer laughs at his own, having reread what he’d sent.

3,000 miles away, and their quiet laughter coincides perfectly.

[]9/23, 19:11[] Our next one I’m sure I’ll be in a hospital gown, so I think you’re in the clear.

[]9/23, 19:12[] Sounds like you’re making plans, already.

[]9/23, 19:12[] You still need rest.

[]9/23, 19:14[] Well, I have to thank you somehow. And, I saw something about poker instead of chess? I’m actually not bad at poker.

[]9/23, 19:15[] … you remember I’m from Vegas, right?

[]9/23, 19:16[] We’ll play for fake money.

[]9/23, 19:18[] No such thing.

[]9/23, 19:19[] I do play for favors, though.

[]9/23, 19:19[] Oh?

Hotch feels a wild, youthful thing unfurl in his chest as he types away. Mischievous, almost, in a way he only gets when he and Spencer are hours deep into conversations in the middle of the night. But it’s broad daylight, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. Getting lost in the thrill of it all. In the officiality of it, now, and another curtain unveiled between them.

[]9/23, 19:20[] Did you have something in mind?

Spencer has to be blushing seven shades of red, right about now, and he hides his face from his phone for a moment before he realizes how ridiculous that is -- Hotch can’t see him. He can stop messaging the man any time he wants to.

Except he doesn’t want to.

[]9/23, 19:24[] I’ll get back to you.

Hotch can’t help it as he grins at his phone. A wry, suggestive thing, but he manages to school it before a passing nurse can see him -- how his eyes are alight with possibility. With elation, just from talking to the younger man that had seemed to capture a part of him he thought wasn’t available to anyone any more, and types out one last -- slightly more flirtatious subtext to put a cap on their conversation. To indicate he’s awaiting more, always wanting a little more of Dr. Spencer Reid.

He can blame it on the morphine, later.

[]9/23, 19:25[] Looking forward to it.

(tbc...)

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#I legit added like 1500 words while editing this afternoon so I'm hella worried it's convoluted but HERE IT IS #Getting this show on the ROAD #cross your fingers and pray I have this damn tumblr formatting thing figured out #hope you enjoy everyone I love ALL OF YOU #super duper long chapter #Correspondence #HotchReid #Heid #Updates on Saturdays hit me up if you want in on the tag list #katyswriting

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

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Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 1/9

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Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 1: There is Nothing to Fear

Storybrooke Maine, 2052. The world is slowly dying from a plague, only known as J2, that is spreading across the realms, a disease that has no cure. A faction known as “The Rebellion” have moved underground to search for a cure while avoiding detection from “The Hive”, a dangerous group run by an unidentified man of darkness searching for power. The only thing standing in the way of either group taking power is Mayor Regina Mills, who spends her time protecting the residents of Storybrooke from criminals who might bring the plague to her small town. The most dangerous occupants, those deemed most likely to bring the plague to town, are given a new opportunity, a chance for a new life, without being a danger to society, courtesy of the Gold Collective.

The pain was tortuously blinding as he tried to open his eyes. It was a feeling of waking from an all-night bender he couldn’t even remember attending. Peering through slits, his room came into view, blue neon lit behind the monitor on his wall. “Status Report.” He spoke, a gritty tone leaving his throat.

“Good morning James, it’s 7:53 am, pollution level 63%, you have no appointments today.” The pleasant robotic voice carried throughout the room. Something felt wrong, like a small itch at the back of his brain, a light tick that was calling out to him, telling him to pay attention.

He stood from his bed, the silk sheets falling to the ground behind him as he wandered through the apartment. “Open blinds.” He spoke and the metal slats hummed as they opened fully, revealing the land in front of him, dark smoke clouds on the horizon behind the mountains. Storybrooke, the only home he had ever known. He sighed; he was going to be late. He was halfway to the bathroom before he stopped in his tracks.

What the bloody hell was he about to be late for?

“What time do I have to be at work?” he said loudly.

“You are expected at 8:30am. Shall I prepare transport?”

He groaned, “Sure, but where is my destination?”

“Granny’s Diner, Main Street, Storybrooke.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache taking form at the back of his neck. “Granny’s.” He mumbled. Short memories, like a picture show, formed in his head, an older woman barking orders at him as he cooked burgers in the back of the small diner. He was a cook. He wasn’t sure why that felt odd to him, like something was out of place. He didn’t have time to contemplate the decisions he made in his life. He was going to be late for work.

The quick shower didn’t erase the feelings, images he didn’t recognize were imprinted in his subconscious every time he closed his eyes. A woman with hair, a light pale yellow, eyes green as grass staring at him. He couldn’t place the image, some celebrity perhaps he had seen in a movie. He shut off the water, running the towel through his hair as he tried to rub the sleep from his brain.

He dressed and left his apartment, sliding the locks shut with a slam, cranking the large metal door handle to the right to ensure it was locked. He glanced down the darkened hallway at the few people meandering about, the lot of which always appeared to be lurking, watching for unsuspecting individuals who left their belongings unprotected.

“You’re late.” The woman growled as soon as he entered the back of the diner.

“I’m sorry, Granny. In my defense, I forgot I had…” He thought about his sentence. What did he forget exactly? That he had a job, that he was a cook, why he had even woken up at the time he did, dreaming about a woman he had never met, “to work this early.” He finished.

“I’ve had to tell you the same thing since you started working here, it would do you some good to have your AIM set a damn alarm before you go to bed.”

Killian had alerted his AIM or Artificial Intelligence Monitorto set a 7am alarm, yet it failed to alert him to his shift for the last few weeks. He would need to have it repaired if this continued.

“Yes Ma’am, apologizes.”

“Just get to work, we got people waiting.”

James pushed through his shift, flipping burgers, cracking eggs, and sending out plates of food he had no memory of knowing how to cook. He wondered to himself how he ended up with this life, when had he decided that this was the best job he could find? Each time he tried to imagine another career, something that he might actually enjoy doing, the migraine would hit him out of nowhere, crippling him until the inhibitor was injected into his arm and his breathing returned to normal.

Whatever plagued him, this medical condition that brought him to his knees had always been with him from what he could remember. He assumed that it had begun when he was a child, it was second nature for him to know to inject himself once the pain hit. Yet he couldn’t remember when it began.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment at the end of the day, entering his room and locking it down behind him. “Set alarm for 7am.” He said once he sat his keys on the counter.

“Alarm set. 7am.”

He went about the mundane task of preparing his dinner, watching the Holo TV, news that the plague had spread to the outer banks was on every station. Mayor Mills calmed the crowd during her press conference and on each holo announcement that played every 15 mins.

“People of Storybrooke, I give you my assurance that the plague will not breach our walls. We have taken every measure possible to protect our citizens. We continue to fight back the resistance uprising, and our law enforcement continues to arrest any faction that supports it. There is nothing to fear.”

Mayor Regina Mills stood in the center of the screen, flanked by her officers on either side. She was fierce, strong, and protected the town of Storybrooke with honor.

“Turn off Holo TV.” He announced, setting his dishes in the machine for cleaning.

He crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his hips. “What time is the alarm set for?” He asked, ensuring that everything was still working.

“Alarm is set for 7am, James. Sleep well.”

~*~

Emma woke to the sound of crying. She jumped up from her spot and reached for her son, pulling him against her chest. “Hush now Henry, mommy’s got you.” Pressing her child to her breast she felt the tug against her nipple as her son quieted. She smiled down at the infant in her arms, her heart aching as she watched him so still against her, as if nothing in the world mattered but his own nourishment.

Emma wished her view of the world were as innocent. But she knew better.

She looked around the dark shack she had been hiding in for the last few weeks. She could hear the water on the other end of the door, just on the outskirts of the town line. It would be dangerous if anyone were to find her. She had given up everything to get away from Neal Cassidy. Her safety, comfort, even her future was all gone the instant she escaped the tower that had been her home for the last five years.

Emma knew it was dangerous being outside the protective walls of Storybrooke, those who had been exiled lived on the outskirts, many would not escape the plague once they lost the protections provided behind the walls. Emma knew it all too well, five years ago when the plague first appeared, she had taken ill, she was expected to die quickly, painfully. But after a month, the symptoms subsided, and Emma survived.

Doctors could not explain why she survived, only that she had been very lucky.

And then she met Neal. She thought she had finally found someone to share her life with. She was taken in by his father, Gold, a man obsessed with finding the cure to the plague.

His company, The Gold Collective had invested in experimenting on anyone who had come down with the plague, valiantly searching for a cure, the perfect gene sample that would save humanity, but his efforts had been fruitless as most of his subjects died before he had completed his experiments.

Emma found him to be odd, even a bit intimidating at times. His obsession with the plague caused her to keep her own situation quiet. She had a feeling if he had known that she had somehow lived through the plague that his interest in her might become more than just the father of the man she lived with.

Gold took care of her, as Neal’s girlfriend, he ensured that she had everything she could ever want. And Neal provided her money, food, and a roof over her head. Something she didn’t have before she had met him, back when she was homeless, trying to find her place in Storybrooke. Neal took her in and loved her.

But all of that changed a little over a year ago. Emma wasn’t snooping, she hadn’t meant to be in the office after hours, but Neal had not returned home that evening, and Emma had been worried. So, she left the penthouse suite of Gold Laboratories and headed to Neal’s office. Before she even reached his wing, she heard arguing.

The conversation between Gold and his son was chilling. She knew she needed help. She didn’t want to cause alarm or alert either of the men to the knowledge she had overheard them, had realized who the Gold Collective really was, so instead she waited out her time. A week passed before she found her mark, a police detective whom she had followed for days. He lived a quiet life, devoted to his job, going between his apartment downtown and his job at the station, never deviating from his day. He always arrived at work at 10:02am for a 10:30 shift. He had lunch with his partner at 12:45, he picked up Chinese food at 9:00pm before returning to his apartment. She had watched him assisting his elderly neighbor up the stairs and she knew this was the man she needed to trust.

Officer Killian Jones didn’t know what to make of her when she showed up at his door at midnight one night. Begging to talk to him, asking for discretion as she tried to determine if he trusted her. When he learned of the knowledge she had, he panicked. He sent her home that evening, telling her to wait a week before she reached out to him again.

It took a month, Emma would arrive at his apartment, they would talk about their plans, share intel on what they had each learned, and suddenly, knowing he was the one person she could trust, feeling like for the first time in her life, someone understood and truly cared about her, she fell for the man.

He tried to deny her, not wanting to take advantage of her trust. But they were in love. There was no denying it. The affair was something that neither one of them had the power to stop. Emma would spend her evenings with Killian, staring at the stars talking about what the future held for them once they were able to figure out a way to stop everything that was happening around them.

But she always returned to Neal, she had no choice but to keep up the ruse in order to protect the secret she had. Too many powerful people were involved for her to alert anyone else. Killian didn’t even trust his partner David enough to share the information.

Suddenly Neal became protective of her, asking her where she was going anytime she left the apartment, so Emma had to distance herself from Killian. It had been a month since they had been in contact when Emma received devastating news. She and Neal were having a baby. It broke her heart. When she finally told Killian, he urged her to escape before the child was born. Once Neal had a child, he would never let her leave.

Emma knew he was right, unfortunately by the time she planned her escape, the child was born a prematurely. She was trapped. Killian became concerned for her safety now that a child was involved, and Emma was forced to share her secret with her childhood friend, Will Scarlett. He sprang into action, becoming the go between for Emma and Killian to set their plan in motion for Emma and Henry to escape.

That night, she met Will on the roof, and they made their daring escape, 65 flights of stairs down the back of the building. They waited for hours at the drop off point, but Killian never showed. Emma was devastated, she felt trapped. Will went in search of him, he wasn’t at his apartment, the station, or any of his usual locations. Killian was gone without a trace.

She knew that something bad had happened to him. He would never abandon her. She trusted him. The only solution she could come up with was that Gold or Neal had found out about their plan.

Killian was in danger, unless something bad had already happened to him. She was desperate to find him. Without Killian Jones, the entire town was in danger.

“Are you decent?” Will’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. She pulled her shirt over her breast, setting her sleeping son beside her.

She stood up and looked through the crack in the door. Will was standing nervously on the edge of the water. She clicked the locks, lifting the wooden latch until the door slid open. Will stepped quickly into the shack.

“You ok?”

“Did you find anything?” She asked anxiously.

“Maybe.”

Emma stared at him with pleading eyes. “What do you mean maybe?”

“Look, don’t freak out, ok?”

“You’re scaring me.” She responded nervously.

“I drove by the station again, nothing. David is there but Killian wasn’t around. I didn’t want to go in, because I figure they might start asking questions, but there was this girl sitting outside and I asked who I could talk to about a case of Killian’s, and I used me ole charm and she told me that he never came back to work a few days ago, and that they opened a missing persons case on him.”

“Oh God, Will.”

“I said don’t freak out.”

“This is terrible. They killed him, didn’t they?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t told you everything yet.” He pleaded as she paced the room. “Anyway, I went by his apartment, and it was empty. The neighbor says they haven’t seen him for days.” She started to speak, and he pressed his hand to her mouth. “Emmie, I need you to be quiet, I know that’s hard for you.”

She groaned against his finger and mumbled. “Fine.”

“I got hungry as I usually do about this time and got a craving for a big greasy burger.”

“Seriously, you wanted me to be quiet so you could talk about food? I’m losing my patience, Scarlet.”

“The burger was excellent by the way, but that’s not the point.” He paused. “I went back to my car, and there was a man out back tossing out some trash.”

“Would you get to the damn point!” She yelled.

“It was Killian.”

“What?”

“The guy out back. Spitting image of him.”

“Did you talk to him, ask him what the hell is going on?”

“I talked to him, but he acted like he’d never seen me in his life. Swears his name is James Rogers. Emmie, it was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. But I tried, I even called him Killian Jones and he stared straight through me…” He dropped his head. “And then he thought about it, I could see the wheels turning in his head, and then he started wincing, and that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Emma asked impatiently, dreading the fact that she could already feel it in her gut, she knew what he was going to tell her, every sensor in her brain was going off that she already knew the truth.

“An inhibitor. The man injected himself with one of Gold’s inhibitors.”

Emma felt the tears forming, she knew it was the truth. It made sense, he would never have abandoned her or Henry. The only explanation was that Gold or Neal had found out what she was planning to do and got to Killian first. “They erased him.” She said sadly, feeling every last bit of hope she had draining from her being.

“Emmie, he’s one of the void. There’s no way back from that.”

“Don’t say that, we don’t know that. It’s all experimental, it’s not even legal. Gold’s been doing it for years on test subjects. Killian can fight it; I know he can. He’s too strong.”

“Emmie, he had no idea, absolutely no idea of who I was.”

“It doesn’t matter, Will. We must keep trying. Maybe the inhibitor just suppresses his memories. We have to get him not to use it.”

“For all we know, not using it could cause his brain to explode. It’s dangerous.”

“I won’t give up on him Will. I can’t lose him.”

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back in slow circles as she cried. “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll figure it out.”

“What are we going to do, Will? Without Killian, I’ll never get into the station to upload the information.”

“We’ll find a way. That’s what we do right?”

She smiled weakly. She wouldn’t give up on him, he risked so much to try and protect her and another man’s child. He had given her hope when she had none. She would never stop trying to get him back. Even if it killed her, she would save Killian Jones and take down the Gold empire.

#void of extinction #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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moondustaeil · 5 years ago

Text

nct ⥂ twenty-one ways to kiss

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. twenty-one ways to kiss

⋅ genre: little soft hour collection w fluff, angst, a bit of everything

⋅ inspiration: here

⋅ members: Lucas → Jisung [ pt 1 ]

ｗｏｎｇ ⋅ ｙｕｋｈｅｉ

⠀〔 11 : 14 am 〕

⋅ a kiss lazily

The dark-brown mop of hair was spread out on the pillow next to yours, some adventurous strands falling on the edge of your pillow each time Yukhei tried to get closer to your side of the bed. “Yukhei” you warned first, slowly opening your eyes only to be met with a closeup of his adorable smile and those puppy-brown eyes. “I can’t breathe if you’re so close” you said with a small laugh, your hands pushing against his bare chest, which almost makes you shiver despite the warmth of the skin. “Do I take your breath away?” Yukhei asks in a playful way, once more nudging his tired body closer to yours for some early -11 am- affection. A scoff leaves your lips, followed by a laugh as you realise what he’s trying to say in a joking way.

“You could if you give me a kiss” You answer after your fit of laughter dies down together with Yukhei’s cute and soft giggles. You only say the words in a joking matter, but still, Yukhei plops himself down on your side of the bed, before pressing a few soft kisses all over your face.

And one last kiss lands upon your soft lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｍａｒｋ

⠀〔 9 : 27 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as comfort

The room feels like it’s filled with darkness the moment you enter, but in reality, it’s the gloomy climate that has been hovering over your head all day. Something you had been keeping from Mark, as of course, you had no other option as you had been out all day and he was busy enough with leading his own life. “Mark?” you ask softly as you see your boyfriend on the bed, dressed in nothing but his shorts to sleep in. The earbuds in his ear keep him from noticing your presence until you drop the bag that had been strapped onto your back for most of the day, one second after he notices you, his earbuds are discarded on the carpet. “y/n” he calls out soft, taking in your appearance but the aura tells him everything without having to see you.

“C’mere,” Mark tells you in a soft voice, and you can’t help but comply and crawl over your side of the bed, immediately into the arms of your lover. You sigh soft, glad the day is just a couple of hours away from being over. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, bringing your hand up to his lip just as you shake your head as a ‘no.’ Your answer is accepted, Mark is thoughtful and understands when you don’t want to talk about certain things like a bad day.

Slowly, he turns your hand around so that the palm is facing him. “I love you so much, and you did a great job today” he whispers before pressing miniature kisses to each tired fingertip.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｘｉａｏ ⋅ ｄｅｊｕｎ

⠀〔 8 : 45 am 〕

⋅ a kiss out of love

The sound of a couple in love breathing softly was replacing the romantic music that would have played in any drama, a heap of sheets covering whatever was too bare but in reality hidden because it was too cold to lie in bed without. Tangled in love, you found yourself cuddled up with your lover, Dejun.

“This is what I dreamt of almost every night, soaking myself in nothing but you and our love” Dejun softly admits to you, his voice explaining the words with nothing but the admiration and love he has for you. His heart seems to skip a beat the same time yours stops momentarily, the words bringing you deeper in the haze of aftercare.

There was a first time for everything, including making love with your lover for the first time. That’s exactly what happened and ended less than ten minutes ago, the miracle that led you into this soft haze of love. Your thoughts kept you busy, until a couple of soft kisses scattered on the skin above your collarbone.

“Our love”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｗｏｎｇ ⋅ ｋｕｎｈａｎｇ

⠀〔 5 : 59 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a lie

“So you’re telling me that all of this was fake all this time?” You ask with a small scowl displayed on your face, the facial-expression makes it clear that you fell for something and got hurt as you believed in the fabricated tale. Wong Kunhang, nicknamed Hendery, nods his head to tell you that’s exactly what it was all of this time, but it’s not a confession and it’s surely not true.

Kunhang has to hold back a sigh, knowing it would make his already silent conversation less convincing. “Our love. All of the kisses, everything else, it was all fake” He states, clearing his throat in hopes that the pit of lies will soon be swallowed even though it would grow a tree of guilt in his stomach. You can only listen rather than respond and your feet are frozen on the carpet despite having sneakers on to run from the situation.

“Why did you lie?” You ask eventually, taking a step closer to the person you can no longer call by sugary sweet nicknames. Kunhang takes your hands in his, drawing you closer than he would like but it’s his heart that decides what he should do. You’re close enough to suddenly feel his lips brushing against yours, soft as a summer breeze but the taste of the sand is bitter. A pause develops before your lips meet up for the second time, meeting in a delicate kiss for what seems like the last time.

Kunhang lied only once, and that was when he said your love was fake.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｈｕａｎｇ ⋅ ｒｅｎｊｕｎ

⠀〔 3 : 16 am 〕

⋅ a kiss as a promise

Watching stars with Renjun was like standing in the middle of an empty art gallery, with only each other and one single masterpiece to stare at. No art could compare to the masterpiece named Huang Renjun, no star in the sky could compare to how bright he shone in your world.

“So this is why we get up at 3 in the morning, for you to stare at me?” Renjun asks with a soft chuckle falling from his lips, he knew he was the person that suggested watching the stars for what seemed like the fourth time this week. It’s dark but somehow he knows that you only have eyes for him, perhaps it’s because he only has eyes for you too.

You’re his muse, if only he was an artist that painted you on countless of canvasses but each in dissimilar scenery. “It’s love, Renjun. Lovers stare at each other instead of the stars” you answer, following the cliché because you know it’s more than just a tale, it’s what happens each time you’re around him. “Will you always stare at me like that?” he asks quietly, showing his softer side in the darkness so that you fail to see the teary eyes when he hears the word love.

“I promise” you whisper against the shell of his hear, your lips slowly lowering to press a chaste and loving kiss upon his lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｊｅｎｏ

⠀〔 8 : 30 am 〕

⋅ a kiss good morning

The word good didn’t fit the mood when you and Jeno were awakened by the alarm at half-past nine. It wasn’t the hour that decided today wasn’t good, it was the fact that today was the last morning you would be able to spend together for quite a while, just like last night had been the last intimacy-filled night for the upcoming time. The sheets are still a mess, surrounding you and Jeno as the two of you lie in the middle of the bed, wrapped up in each other’s limbs and warmth.

“Today is the day” Jeno starts after he stops the alarm from making the morning worse than it already is, both of his arms tightening around your body in order to make it harder for you to untangle. A way to make you stay, a way to make himself stay... and perhaps a way for the love to never leave your sides. “It is” you confirm silently, your head laying against his shoulder as you enjoy the last minutes.

Jeno’s lips press against the top of your head, hoping it transfers your thoughts to his so that he could carry the burden but make sure your thoughts about him would never grow less fond.

Today is the day, it starts with a morning and ends without your lover by your side.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

ｌｅｅ ⋅ ｄｏｎｇｈｙｕｃｋ

⠀〔 4 : 51 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a “yes”

“I didn’t know” Donghyuck and you almost simultaneously say out loud, staring at one another like there was something awkward sticking onto your cheeks. The moment is awkward, especially when you want to stare at each other all day but have never been able to do so before. “Me neither” both of you are about to say, but the words leave your words before Donghyuck can mutter them.

This is exactly what happens when childhood friends grow attached to each other, and after many years finally spill the tea and confess their love. It had been minutes ago since finally both of you had confessed: you first as you rambled about how beautiful he looked each second of the day, and Donghyuck who would always think about you even during nighttime.

Donghyuck’s finger traces over your lip gently, making sure to precisely trace the shape of your cupid’s bow. “Does that mean you love me too?” he asks soft, his fingertip trembling as he says the words. Your lips are quick to press a soft kiss against the insecure skin.

“It does, I love you too”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀

ｎａ ⋅ ｊａｅｍｉｎ

⠀〔 11 : 16 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss on a falling tear

The colour of the sky represents the tears that both you and Jaemin had been shedding in the past hours. The stars seem to represent all of the memories, or perhaps the countless arguments that you had in your relationship: they were always there, just not always as outstanding as others.

"I'll never regret anything we had" Jaemin whispered soft in your ear, his arms pulling you closer before you're able to move away from his embrace. Despite the end coming near, there's not a chance that either of you would pull away from the other. "Me neither" you whisper back to him, the words sounding as genuine as you mean them to be.

Silence sits between the two of you, closing the little gaps that once had been filled with an endless amount of love. It's not uncomfortable and you know the silence is only there to stop either of you from making the other stay, something that happened one too many times before.

A sniffle leaves your lips sadly, unable to stop yourself from trying to find a way in the vague scenery: the haze between an unfortunate ending or a peaceful goodbye. Neither of the two attracts you, you feel too safe in the embrace of mutual love and admiration. Jaemin pulls you back by your shoulders, looking at you with serious eyes.Those brown eyes that you wish you could drown in, but now you're staring at them, perhaps for the last time in the existence of time and reality.

Jaemin’s lips press upon your tear-stained cheeks, keeping the salty droplets from flowing momentarily. "Look at the stars, let them represent our memories: not all of them as bright and outstanding as others, but they're always by your side and by mine too"

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｌｉｕ ⋅ ｙａｎｇｙａｎｇ

⠀〔 5 : 39 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss as a suggestion

"Do you know what people do when they're bored?" Yangyang asks out loud after he lets himself fall back on your bed, not leaving any more space for you to lie other than sit on the tiny bit of space on the edge of the bed. His foot kicks against the delivery box until it falls off the bed, and you're lucky that it's empty so that it can't stain the carpet.

You shake your head as you sit on the bit of space reserved for you, looking over at him with curious eyes because you already expect the little smart-mouth to have an answer ready. "No, what do they do?" you ask, ready for a nonsense answer like going outside to run through the streets whilst thick droplets of rain are trickling over your heads.

"They kiss, bored people are supposed to kiss, especially when it rains. It's romantic" He answers your question. He's joking but if you're willing to say yes, then he no longer is joking because he wants to kiss your lips. A little glance towards you reveals that you're surprised by his words: your pupils dilate and you cutely look very confused right after he blurts out the words.

"Who said that?" you inquire as a laugh leaves your lips, it doesn't hide the surprise as much as you hoped but Yangyang doesn't seem to care whether the surprised look is written all over your face or not. "I did" he answers simply, pulling you down by your arms so that you're half on top of him rather than on the tiny amount of space left. "And if you want to find out if that's what bored people really do, you should test it."

His words leave you speechless but Yangyang only gives you one second to answer as he leans towards you and pressed an unexpected kiss to your soft lips, leaving you wanting for more.

Bored people are supposed to kiss, especially when it rains, it's romantic.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｚｈｏｎｇ ⋅ ｃｈｅｎｌｅ

⠀〔 10 : 44 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss goodnight

Chenle’s eyes struggle to stay open, despite the obnoxiously loud noise that leaves his laptop. Watching cartoons when the clock is almost at eleven was not a good idea, but it was Chenle's way of saying he didn't want to sleep yet, simply because he enjoyed spending time with you.

It's the first time you stay the night at his place and he wants to make it comfortable, fun, exciting and also late on the clock, but Chenle is so hardworking that he can't help but start rubbing his eyes after a certain hour passed on the clock. Perhaps it's also because you're cuddled up in each other's arms and it's warm enough to immediately head to dreamland.

"We should sleep, Chenle, you're tired and I'm getting tired too" you whisper in his ear, trying to test if he's still awake since his eyes had fallen or fluttered shut a few seconds ago. The warmth his body gives off makes you cuddle a bit closer, and he almost immediately reacts by pulling you closer into his embrace. "I don't want to sleep yet, I'm not tired" he protests quietly but it takes a lot of effort to say the words as he can't even realise what he just said.

With one hand, you try to close the laptop and move it to the floor, a task that is hard enough with Chenle who seems like a koala clinging to a tree. But after your little effort, you're able to comfortably hold your boyfriend again.

"Chenle?" you ask silently, keeping your lips far enough from his ear so that you don't wake him if he really fell asleep this time, when you don't immediately receive a reaction, you know he had indeed fallen asleep like you almost predicted. "Goodnight" you whisper, pressing a delicate kiss on the side of his cheek before you close your own eyes and head off to dreamland.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀

ｐａｒｋ ⋅ ｊｉｓｕｎｇ

⠀〔 7 : 57 pm 〕

⋅ a kiss to gain something

"So the one who wins the next game is going to pay for food?" Jisung asks, making up the rules but you already agree by nodding your head because you're overly used to doing this by now. It's a cute little game you both play in order to decide who will pay takeout: the food depends on the mood that you're in, just like the game depends on how hungry you really are.

You ponder in silence for a few seconds, thinking about which game you've not played recently, and you can already leave out a few minor ones because in the past weeks Jisung was too hungry to wait for long games to decide the winner. "How about we give each other kisses, the first one who smiles has to pay?" you suggest to him as it randomly crosses your mind like that. It's a game you made up at that second, and you're all in for the tiny kisses and little giggles of happiness already. "Challenge accepted" Jisung says right away.

A couple of minutes later both you and Jisung are sitting opposite of each other on the bed, legs crossed so that neither of you can cheat by playfully pushing or kicking the other. "A kiss on the cheek will do" Jisung says as he leans forward, pressing not one, but two kisses to the side of your cheek. In surprise -because he cheated- you let out a small laugh and point your index finger in his direction. "You're a cheater!" you protest.

Jisung's finger is pointing at you like your finger is pointing at him, both almost giggling already but pursed lips prevent you from doing so. "You just laughed" Jisung says, sticking out his tongue as he thinks victory is his. "But you cheated" you protest back to him, your arms playfully crossing over your chest.

An hour and many kisses later, cheater Jisung got all of the kisses and free food.

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