#i miss this photo set-up but i don’t miss the old apartment lived in here

[boyobjectifier]

there is always something in the way

i want to have you to myself for once

follow me through the jaws of fate

so i can have you all to myself for once

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Chosen Appa | Wooyoung

- Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Single-mom!Reader.

- Requested by: no one

- Requests: Open for now. Please read my requesting guidelines before requesting.

- Warnings: single mum, hints at readers ex-husband being a cheater and an overall douchebag, best friends to lovers.

- Word Count: 1,205

- Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist

Walking back into her small living room, Y/N is met with silence. The babbling sounds of her 15-month-old baby girl, who usually keeps herself entertained with her toys in her play pen while Y/N does the housework, has gone quiet. Assuming her little one might have fallen asleep, she peeks into the playpen only to discover that her daughter is missing.  

Panic sets in as Y/N searches every corner of the apartment, trying to convince that her baby isn’t capable of climbing out on her own yet. Her eyes dart to the entrance, where she notices the stroller and the diaper bag are missing. Relief washes over her and is quickly replaced with annoyance as she picks up the phone and calls the only person brave and sneaky enough to kidnap her baby in broad daylight. 

He quickly answers but before he can start his yapping, Y/N yells at him. “Yah! Jung Wooyoung! You better bring my baby back right now.”  

“No,” he says defiantly. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately with finding a new job, the divorce and your soon to be ex-husband being a total asshole. She’s coming with me to the studio while you have a few hours to yourself," he insists.  "Don’t worry; she’ll be safe and sound. You know everyone here loves her.” 

Y/N can almost hear the smirk in his voice, and it only fuels her irritation further. “You can’t just take her without asking me first! What if something happens? What if she gets scared?” 

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle, “You know I won't let anything happen to her. I protect her as if she's my own." 

"Fine, but if you pull a stunt like this again, you'll never see her again," she warns her best friend. "You got that? I'll make Yeonjun her godfather. You’ll be no one to her." 

"You really trust Yeonjun with Hannie?" he asks, skeptically. 

"He wouldn't kidnap her without me knowing," she defends their mutual friend.  

Wooyoung chuckles on the other end of the call, the sound brings some comfort to her. “You know, I think you’re just jealous because I didn’t kidnap you for the day too. Stop with the housework and enjoy this time to yourself. Take a walk, go get some lunch, do a little shopping.”  

Y/N sighs, her shoulders slumping as she leans against the kitchen counter. The weight of her responsibilities presses down on her. Never did she think she would be jobless, almost divorced and a single mother. But four months ago, everything came crashing down. Her husband’s mistress turned up at their door, crying and pregnant. She left, losing her job in the process, and moved in with her mother who’s been helping support her and Hannie while she finds a new job so she can get an apartment. But finding a job was proving harder than she expected. She’s seriously considering the job her mum offered her at the small restaurant she owns. 

Y/N feels a twinge of guilt for wanting a moment to herself. “I know, but she’s my baby. I can’t help but worry.”  

“Worrying is part of being a mother, but you also need to take care of yourself,” Wooyoung replies, his voice softening.  

Y/N bites her lip, contemplating his words. He’s right, of course. The past few months have been a whirlwind of stress, and she hasn’t had a moment to breathe. “Okay, but I want updates and photos. Text me every hour, or I swear I’ll come down to that studio and take her back myself.” 

"I promise to send you plenty of pictures," he assures her. "Hannie, say see you later, eomma," he adds, moving the phone closer to Hannie.  

Hannie babbles into the phone until a clear word breaks through. "Appa!" 

Y/N’s eyes widen with shock. Hannie just said her first word. Her heart swells with a mix of pride and disbelief. “Did she just say ‘Appa’?” Y/N asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she’s afraid to break the special moment. 

"I've been trying to get her to say eomma," Wooyoung admits after putting his phone on speaker, disbelief and pride in his voice also. He quickly ends the call and calls her back on video call. 

She quickly answers and the first thing to pop up on her phone screen is her little girl, her bright eyes sparkling with innocence and joy as she looks past the phone at wooyoung. She’s always imagined the day her daughter would speak her first word, and now it was directed at someone else. Someone that wants nothing to do with her. The reality of her situation hits her like a wave, and she feels a lump form in her throat. 

“Appa,” Hannie keeps saying, her tiny voice filled with joy as she looks up at Wooyoung, her little hands reaching out wanting him to pick her up. "Look, Hannie, it's eomma," Wooyoung says, turning the phone to show Hannie her mother on the screen. For a brief moment, she captures the baby's attention, and Y/N can see the flicker of recognition in her daughter’s eyes. "Can you say eomma?" he playfully encourages, trying to elicit another word from his goddaughter.  

Hannie giggles, her focus shifting back to him, her laughter like music that fills the room. "Appa!" she exclaims again. 

"I think she's calling you Appa," Y/N says, the realization dawning on her. When she thinks about it, Wooyoung has present in Hannie's life more than her own father. Especially since Y/N and her ex-husband ended their relationship. Hannie's father hasn't had anything to do with her since. 

 "Me?" he asks surprised, turning the phone camera back to him. "Why would she call me Appa?" he questions not really thinking about it. 

"Maybe she sees me as a father figure," Y/N tries to convince herself, but deep down, she knows that Hannie is forming connections, and Wooyoung is a significant part of her life. 

"I mean, I’ve been around a lot since you and—" He stops himself, the mention of her ex-husband hanging in the air. 

Y/N swallows hard, the lump in her throat growing. "You have been," she admits, her voice growing softer as she thinks about it. "You’ve been a great, Wooyoung. I don’t know what I would do without you." 

He smiles, but it’s tinged with something more serious. "I just want to be there for both of you. You know that, right? You and Hannie mean the world to me." 

"And you mean the world to us," she replies with a warm smile, her heart swelling with affection. In that moment, she realizes that there could be something more between her, her daughter and her best friend. Wooyoung has stepped into a role that neither of them expected, but it feels right. 

"I don't think this is a conversation that should be spoken about over the phone," he says after a moment of silence. "I'll bring Hannie home now and we can talk more." 

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips and ends the call. She rushes around the room, picking up toys and putting away the play pen. anticipating Wooyoung and Hannie's return home. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.

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[lesbiankimdahyun]

Desperately need the next part for summer session I WANT TO KNOW IF IM NOT A CHICKEN FOR MISS SANA PLSANDJSJS

here it is!!

SUMMER SESSION III

2.9K words 

CW: scissoring, face sitting, other gay activity using toys ;)

AN: this is most likely the last installment!

[Sana x F!Reader] 

Requested: Yes

“You’re gonna run out of clothes, bestie,” Chaeyoung said, “And time.” 

“Ugh,” you replied, readjusting your phone to give the tiny version of your friend on FaceTime a better view. “I know I know, just tell me what you think.” You stepped back into the frame of your full length mirror so Chaeyoung could get a glimpse of your outfit. She leaned in toward the screen, trying to get a better look. 

Clothes that didn’t feel right littered your floor, bed, and hung haphazardly on hangers in your wide open closet. This was your fourth outfit change and you were about to start sweating. “Well?” 

Chaeyoung took in your outfit– a simple white tank with a cropped, textured, short sleeve lilac button up over it, and dark denim shorts. 

“You look…” she paused. “Well, gay. Okay great! Now hurry up and add a watch or some jewelry so you can go!” 

You rolled your eyes a little, picking up your phone and reaching for the jewelry stand on your dresser. “Just gay? Oh whatever, as long as I don’t look stupid.”

The blonde-haired girl beamed at you from her New York City studio apartment. “She’ll like it,” she said, then smirked. “But you didn’t need any help from me for this, really. Not when those clothes are gonna end up coming off anyway!” 

“Hey!” 

Her burst of laughter cut off your chances of getting a smart reply in. Chae waved at you. “My job here’s done. I gotta go meet a few friends now but good luuuuuck!” Her sing-songy voice cut off as the call ended. 

You thought about sending her a snarky reply via text, but when you put on your watch and saw how close to seven it was, you decided to forgo it. Instead, you opened the chat you had going with Sana as you locked the door behind you, told her you’d be there soon, then headed for the train station. 

Sana’s apartment was modern and clean, but still very personalized to her style. As she showed you around her kitchen and living space, a few things caught your eye. 

“Is that like… vintage Betty Boop?” you asked. 

Sana smiled at you. “Yeah,” she said, glancing up at the framed image hanging on her wall. “One of two hundred original, signed, limited edition lithographs.” She blushed a little. “I uh, I really like Betty Boop. She’s just so cute! Yet sexy...”

Her bookshelf caught your eye, too. But not for the books. In fact, only the bottom shelf had books. The rest held other personal belongings of hers. The top shelves were dedicated to perfume bottles– some new, some that must have been a few decades old. The middle shelves were full of small photos and knickknacks. 

You pointed at a photo of Sana with a couple other girls on either side of her. “Who are they?” you asked, suddenly noticing just how many photos she had with the two other dark haired girls. One of them had a cute, shy gummy smile and distinct beauty marks. The other girl had a long, shoulder length wolf cut with bangs that lay perfectly across her forehead. She was intimidatingly pretty, just like the other girl. 

“My best friends from home,” Sana replied, picking up the framed photo. “That’s Mina,” she said, pointing to the girl with the beauty marks. She pointed to the girl with the wolf cut. “And that’s Momo!” 

“Wow,” you said. “How long have you known each other?” 

Sana paused to think. “It’s been…gosh, maybe ten years? It feels like I’ve known them forever, though. I’m trying to convince them to visit next summer.” 

You smiled as she set the framed photo back in its place on her shelf. “I hope they do,” you said. “They seem cool.” 

When you were done admiring Sana’s space, the two of you ordered food. As you waited for it to arrive, you hung out on Sana’s couch while she introduced you to her favorite kr&b duo, UJB. While you acquainted yourself with the duo’s two idols, Jihyo and Jeongyeon, Sana made mixed drinks for the both of you. 

“Their music is so good,” you said when she sat back down and handed you a glass. “Okay be real– do you have a favorite out of the two?”

Sana laughed, a sound you liked the more you heard it. “I love them both a lot,” she said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. “Obviously. But if I had to choose…” she nodded toward the shorter, raven-haired woman on the screen. “It’d be Jihyo.” 

When your food finally arrived, you arranged it carefully on Sana’s coffee table while she refreshed drinks for the both of you and grabbed plates and cutlery. The mouthwatering scent of bulgogi, spicy pork, steamed mixed veggies, rice and summer salad filled the room. Sana came back with not only drinks, but two tiny shot glasses and a fresh bottle of soju. 

“What’s all this?” you asked, eyeing the shot glasses as you reached for a napkin and plate. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sana said, reaching for the remote. “But I’ve always wanted to try…” she pulled up Jennifer’s Body, ready to stream. “...the drinking game to this.” 

“Oh, sure,” you said, filling your plate while Sana filled hers. “I love this movie.” 

At first, you thought you wouldn’t be drinking that much considering there were only eight rules to follow for the drinking game, but Sana insisted on alternating between the pure soju and your mixed drinks. Soon you were feeling much less self conscious and a little braver with some alcohol in your system. Before long, both of your plates sat unattended with only a few bites left on each as you got more into the movie’s plot and the drinking game. 

Your nerves about why Sana had invited you over in the first place were almost gone, until the scene in Needy’s bedroom was suddenly on screen and you felt a bit of heat rise to your face. You couldn’t bear to look at Sana as you watched Jennifer kneel on Needy’s bed, tucking her hair behind her ears and adjusting her glasses on top of her head. Their lips met shortly after, and you glanced away. Sana, on the other hand, sat engrossed, leaning in slightly as Needy climbed on top of Jennifer on screen and leaned down to kiss her. 

“When’s the last time you kissed someone like that?” Sana asked suddenly, making you jump a little. 

“Wh-what?” you forced yourself to only look at the screen, watching for a moment. “Oh, uh… it’s been a while,” you said. Without really thinking, you then said, “You?” 

Sana chuckled. “Hmm. A while for me, too,” she replied. You nodded a little, suddenly very aware of how much distance had closed between you and Sana since the movie started. You had been sitting more toward the corner, facing her with one arm lazily draped over the top of the couch, and now Sana was nearly resting against your arm. You kept your eyes on the screen, swallowing hard. 

Sana reached for the remote, turning down the volume of the movie. “Would you kiss me like that?” 

You blushed. You nodded before your voice finally caught up with you. “Y-yes,” you said meekly, finally daring to look in Sana’s direction. She was already looking at you. 

“Okay,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You turned to face her, and as you did, you could practically feel the energy of the room shift. The attraction between the two of you was almost palpable now, and it gave you a much-needed bit of courage. 

You sat up a bit, resting your hand on her knee as you moved. You leaned in a little and so did she. You were about to tilt your head when she spoke suddenly, softly. 

“I…” Sana hesitated. “I just want you to know I really do think you’re attractive, I’m not just doing this because we’ve been drinking and—” 

She trailed off, eyes fixated on your mouth. Noticing this, you moved forward then, finding your confidence finally as your lips met with hers. Sana let out a muffled noise of surprise, then quickly kissed you again, giving you permission to continue. 

Her lips were soft and her touches even softer. She opened her mouth a bit, inviting you in to taste her. Her hands gently pulled on your wrists, and it was all you needed to be able to lead from there. As your fingertips focused on lightly trailing over her forearms and waist, you continued to kiss her, a little deeper, then deeper still until she finally broke away to come up for air. 

Sana’s cheeks were a deep, flushed pink and her eyes slightly hooded as she looked at you. 

“Do you— um…” Sana struggled to find her words and bit her lip to keep a goofy smile off her face. You waited patiently, amused by this new side of hers. It was like finally, your roles had traded. You felt much more bold, while Sana seemed to only get shyer. “My room’s this way,” she said finally, getting up and taking your hand. 

You barely had time to look around Sana’s room before she was pulling you down onto her bed with her. Your lips met hers again and you laid back on her bed, pulling her on top of you. Her hands pulled your short sleeve button up away from your sides as she kissed you, then moved toward your white tank tucked into your shorts. Meanwhile, you worked on Sana’s shirt, a dark off-the-shoulder long sleeve. Before you knew it, both of your clothes had been abandoned on her bedroom floor. You could see out of the corner of your eye through Sana’s window that the sun was setting, but one of her lamps turned on automatically a few moments later, filling your corner of the bedroom with an incredibly soft, yellow glow while everything else fell away to shadows. 

Sana was kissing her way down your neck fervently, one hand working its way between your legs. At first you thought she was going to touch you, but then she started pulling you closer. You were confused for a moment until you figured out what she was trying to do. You took your hands away for a moment to adjust your legs and the distribution of your weight, and then Sana’s; one of her legs over yours, and one of your legs over hers. 

“Better?” you asked softly, pulling Sana closer to you. In all of your experience, scissoring had never been able to make you get even remotely close to coming, but if it was what she wanted and needed to get off, you were more than willing to do it. 

Sana nodded eagerly, looking down to watch as your body met with hers. You closed your eyes, stifling a moan when you felt her wetness on yours. You tried not to think about all of the other things you’d rather be doing to her, focusing instead on trying to help her grind into you. It was nearly impossible to get a good rhythm going, but your own lust skyrocketed and you found yourself grinding back against her, trying to get your aching core any sort of satisfaction and relief. 

The more the two of you worked at it, the more labored both of your breathing became. 

“Is…this comfortable for you?” you asked after a few minutes, panting lightly. 

“Kinda,” Sana replied. Her eyes roamed everywhere over your body. She grabbed at your thighs, squeezing lightly, then set her gaze back on your mouth. She paused for a moment. “Actually…” she said, “I think I know what I’d like even better.”

She reached for you to kiss you, gently untangling her body from yours as her tongue explored your mouth. You found yourself lying down on her bed with Sana climbing on top of you. Her long, brown hair tickled your face as she kissed you, and then she stopped. 

“I… want to feel you,” she said, her brown eyes looking down at you for approval. “Put that mouth to work for me?” You nodded eagerly, sliding down more so Sana had room to hover above your face. You held onto her thighs as she lowered herself down, her breath hitching when she felt your tongue on her. 

You started slowly, taking your time to lick the length of Sana’s wet cunt. She held onto the headboard of her bed, eyes closed. Your tongue teased her entrance, making her gasp, and then moved toward her clit. She tried to be quiet at first, but you gave the back of her thighs a playful squeeze. “I like being able to hear you,” you murmured. “Don’t be shy.” 

Sana half laughed, half moaned as you lapped at her clit. “Y-you’re one to ta– oh, there, right there,” she said. She sank lower onto your face, her thighs warm and snug against the sides of your face. “F-fuck,” she breathed, starting to roll her hips. Your own noises of delight were muffled under her pussy, but Sana appreciated them just the same. 

Your chin, nose and lips became soaked in her juices as you continued to eat her out. You could tell it felt much better for Sana than scissoring had because her breathing slowly became more shallow and her once quiet moans were getting louder. 

“Oh, god…” Sana’s body involuntarily shuddered a little. “That feels so…” she trailed off, grinding against your mouth a little faster. “Yes…” 

But then, just as you were working yourself back into a rhythm that seemed to really please her, she stopped again. She lifted herself off of you, giving you both a few moments to catch your breath. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, slightly worried. “Did I hurt you?” 

Sana smiled, still panting lightly. “No, no, not at all,” she said. “I was actually…” she tucked some of her hair behind her ears. “I could’ve come like that. Well, I mean, I wanted to, but I… I think I’m too shy to come in your mouth,” she finally admitted. “But,” she added quickly, “I do want to come.” 

You nodded, sitting up a bit and wiping part of your face with the back of your hand. “How would you like to?” 

“Hmm.” Sana climbed toward the edge of her bed for a moment, letting the top half of her body disappear momentarily as she leaned over the side to grab a small box under her bed. You quickly looked away from checking out her hips and ass when she sat back up. When she turned to face you, she held a light purple, seven inch toy in her hand. She blushed, but you grinned. 

“I can work with this,” you said. “Lie back,” you instructed, taking the toy from her. You kissed your way down her body, lightly twisting one of her nipples as you moved. You settled in between her legs, kissing and licking your way to her wet pussy. 

“Do you want me to touch you too, or do you want to?” you asked softly. In response, Sana snaked one hand down between her legs, rubbing her clit lightly. Your own cunt clenched involuntarily around nothing as you positioned the head of the toy at her entrance. You rubbed it along her folds a bit, soaking it with her own juices before finally slipping the head in. 

Sana threw her head back, opening her legs a little wider. “M-more,” she said. “Please.” 

You prayed your own wetness would drip down your thighs instead of onto her bedding, talking to Sana softly as you worked more of the length of the toy inside her. “You look so pretty like this,” you told her. Sana rubbed her clit as you fucked her, eyes locked on you as the toy slid in and out of her dripping pussy with ease. 

“God, you make that feel good,” she said, her entire body flush from pleasure. 

“And you,” you said, listening to the lewd sounds of her receptive, wet pussy, “make it sound even better.” You leaned down to kiss her, letting Sana lick your lips and tongue. Her hips bucked as you fucked her, her body trying to get more of the toy inside as her fingers rubbed away at her clit desperately. 

“R-right there,” Sana said after a while. Her body had been growing more and more tense the closer she got, and you could tell she was extremely close now. 

“Nngh- f-fuck, there,” she reached down and put her other hand over yours, helping you fuck her deeper and faster. Her breathing was ragged. You wondered how she was getting any air at all when suddenly she let out a cry, hitting her peak. Her body collapsed completely as she came, letting out light, breathy moans. It was one of the prettiest sounds you’d ever heard. You supported her body as she relaxed into post-orgasm bliss, and gently worked the toy out of her. The moan she let out when you finally slid it all the way out nearly made you feral as you set it aside on her nightstand. 

“Thank you,” Sana said breathlessly. “Wow.” She rolled over, eyeing you for a moment curiously. “To be honest, I’m more of a pillow princess,” she said, glancing at your neglected, soaked cunt. “But I’d love to watch you touch yourself.” Then she smiled mischievously. “You uh, don’t happen to own a harness for a strap, do you?”

[gloomyluvr]

GOODNIGHT N GO

in which miles unexpectedly sleeps over

fem!reader x e-42! miles morales

fluff / kinda angst??

warnings!: none

a/n: hiii ! i promised a post. and even tho it's a week or two late, it's here!! i loved this one btw. heavily inspired by ari's song. it's one of my faves. this took me forever cuz i had so many ideas and versions of it and i couldnt decide which route i wanted to go with it. idk hope y'all like it ig. oh and miles is ooc cuz like... idk how he is.

masterlist

“im sorry for coming over last minute.” it was almost midnight when miles had called you asking for a place to stay the night. you were the only person he knew who lived around this unfamiliar area. 

“no, it’s alright. don’t worry.” you looked down at the floor, avoiding miles’ gaze. admittedly, you were nervous. it was your first time seeing miles after your breakup. which didn’t go all too well, but it’s in the past now. 

“if you’re not comfortable with me staying here, i get it. i’ll find some other place.” miles had noticed your uneasy manner. 

“no! it’s fine! it’s late and i don’t want you out there by yourself” you finally looked up at him, “what are you doing here anyways?” 

“oh uhm, there’s this like robotics competition around here, good prize money y’know?” miles hesitated. 

you knew miles better than anyone, you know when he’s lying. he’s making it so painfully obvious that he’s lying. he was probably here for prowler business. but, it wasn’t your place to worry anymore.

“oh, sounds fun.” 

“your mom won't mind?”

“what?”

“your mom wont mind that i'm staying the night?”

“oh uhm, probably not. she’s at her boyfriends house so…” you shrugged

“oh.” 

 miles stood stiffly in front of you waiting for anything to happen. and you stood, well, also stiffly looking around your living room. god, this was so fucking awkward.

“um well, you can set your bag in my room and i’ll get you some old clothes of yours that i… still have.” you admitted, very very embarrassingly. miles slightly smiled, amused by your behavior. 

you led the way to your room, and miles trailed behind you. as he was walking, he looked around the apartment he once knew so well. he took notice of anything new, whether it was recent photos in frames or decorations your mother put up to match the season. 

once in your room, miles gently set his bag next to your bed. he observed you as you got clothes from your drawer. you were dressed in some graphic tee and christmas pajama pants. which miles so happened to have an exact pair of (maybe because you insisted on matching for the holidays and well, who was miles to deny you?)

“here you go.”

“thanks.” miles took the clothes from your hands and walked to the bathroom.

you let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding in. why were you so nervous? a couple months ago you guys could act freely around each other and now you guys can barely even make eye contact. there was no denying that you missed miles. you missed the calls that would last for hours. you missed laying together in bed. you missed his laugh. you missed everything and anything about miles. 

you weren’t expecting his call at all. he was the one who decided on no contact after all. and if you were being honest you were mad that he had the balls to ask to spend the night after not talking to you for months. but you didn’t have it in you to say no to miles. 

when miles came back, you were lying on a makeshift bed on the floor scrolling through your phone. it couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“you’re not sleeping on that.” miles immediately advised you. you looked up from your phone with a grin. 

“oh i know. you’re sleeping that.” you got up from the floor and climbed on top of your bed. miles watched your antics with a hand on his hips. you looked at him and he rolled his eyes. 

“well at least i was tryna be a gentleman.” he huffed as he laid down on the floor. you rolled over to the edge of your bed to look at miles who was getting comfy on the floor (which was surprisingly comfortable.)

you wanted him to say something. anything. ask how you’ve been, what you’ve been up to. you wanted to talk to him, tell him the latest drama from your school. anything that would break this god-awful silence. but, nothing ever came. it was late, and if he wasn’t gonna try anything, neither were you. 

you looked at miles’ face, admiring your favorite features of his. he quickly took notice and looked back at you. miles smiled nervously, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his cheeks turned red because of your gaze. fortunately for him, you were as giddy as him, if not more. your cheeks also blushed up and you just couldn’t handle it.

“stop looking at me like that!” you cried before hiding your face in your covers.

“what! ¿qué hice?” miles chuckled, throwing his hands in the air in defense. 

“you know what you did!” you insisted with your face still buried in your covers.

“ ‘m sorry i can’t help it.” he whispered. you shifted to your lay on your side, facing miles.

“miles you can’t say that.” you whispered back. 

“why not?”

“miles…” 

“i know, i’m sorry.” miles mumbled. 

and once again, silence filled the room. you could hear miles’ soft breaths and you were sure he could hear yours.

“k pues, goodnight.” 

“goodnight, y/n/n.” 

15 or so minutes had passed and you still couldn’t sleep. you were tossing and turning on your bed. why couldn’t you sleep? is it because it’s so cold even though it’s august? or was it the fact that your ex was sleeping on your bedroom floor? probably the first one. you shivered, trying to find some warmth within your blankets. why was it so fucking cold? you sigh, there was only one way you were gonna be able to sleep tonight. 

“miles?” 

“hm?”

“you awake?”

“yeah, can’t sleep. why?” miles waited for a response but all he heard was shuffling. then, he saw you standing over him with your pillow and an extra blanket.

“can i sleep with you?” miles nearly jumped at the offer. how could he ever reject you? 

“yeah of course.” miles made space for you on the ground and you quickly set your pillow down next to his. you got under the same covers as him with the extra you brought being quickly discarded. 

it wasn’t until you were fully settled in that you realized your position. your face was merely inches away from miles’. though it didn’t bother you like you thought it would and miles didn’t seem bothered either. in habit, you rested one of your legs over miles’. instinctively miles wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him. you brought your hand up to caress miles’ cheek. you closed your eyes as miles rubbed circles on your waist with his thumb.

you missed this. so did miles. but as long as he was the prowler, he couldn’t be with you. despite how much he wanted to. 

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (26) Manipulate

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 26)

Summary: Rosie finds an unmarked box in her wardrobe. When John scolds himself for lacking as a parent, Rosie sets things straight.

Twenty-Six Years Old

Six months after my return to London, I was moving out again. The internship at the ministry of justice paid surprisingly well. I couldn’t help but think that a certain uncle had been using his manipulation skills again… In addition to my wage, the generous inheritance from Nana and Timothy’s income from his published novel, were more than sufficient to buy a decent flat in Stockwell. 

Nana had clearly wanted that 221 Baker Street was well looked after, and gifted it to her two boys, and insisted in her will that if Deidre, or Dee, as she preferred to be called, needed a home, 221A should be hers. And for the last two years, 221A had been occupied by Dee. My parents got along with her like a house on fire.

“It’s like having a younger version of Hudders down there,” Papa stated.

“Agreed. The sassiness runs in the family, I presume. Dee’s skills in the kitchen are sadly things she did not inherit from her aunt, though,” Dad said.

“Definitely not! She almost sat the flat on fire when she was boiling eggs,” Papa filled in.

***

Moving out the first time, had been poles apart to this move. That time I was going on an adventure, and I knew it was for just a period. When I moved in with Timothy, it was forever, and that was more bittersweet than I’d anticipated.

Moving to Paris, I had only taken clothes, some books, my laptop and the like. Stripping my room bare, was something entirely different. There were so many memories, and I knew I had to get rid of some of them because the flat wasn’t exactly big, and there were Timothy’s things to consider as well.

Over the next weeks I felt that I lived inside a cardboard box. They were everywhere, even downstairs to let me have some room to move around upstairs and leave the bed free to sleep in.

On the floor inside my wardrobe, I found an old box that had remained hidden behind clothes, rucksacks, shoes and a bag with blankets. It wasn’t marked and I couldn’t remember having placed it there. I opened the flaps and gasped in surprise.

“How are you getting on?” Dad called from the stairs and seconds later he entered my room.

I looked up at him with a stunned expression. When he saw the box, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily.

“Right. I’d forgotten all about that one,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve failed to keep her memory alive for you, haven’t I?”

“Dad,” I scolded him. “You had far more important things to cope with when she died. Raising me with Papa is the greatest gift you could’ve given me. Never be sorry for that. I don’t remember her at all. From what I’ve gathered she did some horrible things to you both. No, stop. She did. I may not know the full extent of it, but it doesn’t matter that she was my mother. Remember what Papa said about extended and chosen family. They can be way better than the biological one. Not that I would want to replace you, mind.”

We both looked down at the photo of my mother and Dad on their wedding day. I didn’t recall when it had been replaced with the wedding photo of Dad and Papa. It felt strange and a bit eerie to look at Dad embracing another person like that. I took it out and placed it in the box that was going to the bins.

“Rosie!” Dad exclaimed, more out of shock than anything else.

“It’s wrong, Dad. I don’t need that. To me she’s the one who gave me life, but she was never in it when it mattered, and I’ve never missed having a mother. I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world having you and Papa as parents. You’ve done a great job, and uncle Myc, Nana, Molly, Granny, Pops, and uncle Greg have been brilliant carers as well. Now, what else is in here?”

I found Ted, still stained with tomato sauce, a white baby blanket with a bee pattern, tiny boxes containing a curl of my hair, my first tooth, a book where my growth, my first real meal, my first words, my first steps, my first trip, (to Barts), my favourite toys and books were painstakingly written down in Papa’s handwriting. My eyes filled with tears when I realised how much love lay behind those notes.

“He didn’t let me near that book with my horrible handwriting,” Dad said in a choked voice, clearly as emotional as me.

Another book caught my eye. The one uncle Greg had mentioned. A book with children’s names. It was worn, and I didn’t know whether that was from Papa searching for male names starting with a G, or my mother’s search for names meant for me.

“Did you…”

“No,” Dad cut me off. “She’d already decided on a name once we got back together. After…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence, and I’m glad he stopped himself. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. 

I hadn’t told Timothy about her yet, but I knew I needed to. He would eventually ask. The lack of photos of her would ensure that. I reminded myself to ask uncle Myc how much I could reveal. Not that I knew more than half of it myself.

After I’d put the box aside, I leant into Dad where he sat beside me and placed my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and pulled me in for a hug.

“I’m so glad you decided to move back here with me after she died,” I murmured. “We would’ve been miserable without him.”

“Yeah, two years was enough for a lifetime,” Dad said and drew me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“I bet Papa is relieved that he can walk around in just a sheet now that I’m moving out for good,” I quipped to brighten the mood.

Dad chuckled and he was unable to hide the glint in his eyes at this prospect.

Also available on AO3

All the love to the other magnificent participants <3 Thanks to everyone for the endless support and especially to those who normally don't read parent!lock, but despite that are walking the extra mile. I'm in awe!

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

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[agirlwithdemonblood]

Breaking Free: Chapter 5- Falling Into You

Pairings: AU! Mechanic Dean x Reader

Chapter Summary: First day of living with Dean, everything is going perfect.

Warnings: SMUT! Watch yourself, only 18+

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Today was my first day living with Dean, and I felt both excited and nervous.

After he helped me settle in and showed me around his cozy apartment—a place that was quickly starting to feel like home—he had to go back to work. It wasn’t a big place, but it had two bedrooms and a nice balcony with a view of the town. The walls were a calming grey colour, decorated with art and photos that made it feel warm and inviting.

Even though I was happy to be with Dean, I couldn’t shake the fear from past relationships. I was used to feeling like I always messed up or disappointed my partner. This fear made me worry that I might do something to upset Dean or ruin our relationship, especially since it was so early.

Deep down, I knew Dean was different—he was kind, patient, and understanding—but old fears still haunted me.

I spent the day searching job opportunities in the town over, it was a little bit of a drive but I knew if I wanted to stay here, I needed to have a source of income.

I checked the time, and my heart pounded in my chest, Dean was due to come home in an hour, and panic set in as I realized I hadn't even started dinner—a routine Andrew used to expect every night. But with Dean, it was different. I wasn’t sure what he liked or disliked, which only added to my anxiety.

I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, the ringing making my nerves worse until he finally answered.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you doing?" Dean’s voice was strong comfort.

"I’m good. I’m so sorry I forgot to ask what you wanted for dinner tonight," I admitted guiltily.

Dean chuckled softly. "You don’t need to make anything. It’s been a long day, so I can pick something up for us on the way home."

"Oh, okay. As long as you're sure you're okay with that…" I hesitated, needing reassurance.

Dean paused, his tone gentle yet firm. "As long as we are okay with that, Y/N. Are you okay with that?"

His concern touched me, and I smiled, biting my lip. "Yeah, I am. I can’t wait to see you."

"Same here, sweetheart. See you soon."

I hung up and headed to the bedroom to grab some clothes, eager to shower. As much as I appreciated the motel's shelter, the showers were dreary. I longed for the real water pressure and a chance to unwind.

Stepping into the bathroom, I undressed and let the warm water cascade over me.

As I stood there, thoughts swirled. Why was I still anxious about things from the past when Dean had consistently shown me kindness and understanding? His reaction to my dinner problem was proof—he wasn’t like Andrew, expecting perfection or control. Dean simply cared about what made us both comfortable and happy.

It was strange, falling this hard for somebody I've known only two weeks. And I wish I could explain it, maybe we were in over our heads or maybe we were crazy, but there was this pull, this deep, intense love brewing between us.

I guess I must have spent longer in the shower than I realized because a knock on the door nearly caused me to slip, and that’s when I realized Dean was home. He cracked the door open as I peeked out with wet hair.

"Mmm, nice wet hair, sweetheart," he teased with a chuckle.

I blushed but decided to play along, shooting him a mischievous wink. "Maybe you'll get to see more of wet me later."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise, and I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. His cheeks and ears turned pink as he looked down, smirking slightly. "Um... dinner is here. Take your time and relax. Meet me on the balcony."

I nodded with a smile, turning off the shower as Dean frowned slightly. "You didn’t need to come out now."

"I missed you," I admitted softly. "Just give me a moment to get dressed, and I'll be out there."

"Okay." Dean smiled and closed the door, leaving me to quickly dry off and get dressed.

I knew Dean wouldn't mind how I dressed, but I hoped tonight might lead to something more, so I slipped into some leggings and the oversized t-shirt of his I loved, pairing it with lacy black panties and a bra underneath. Hopefully, he'd notice and appreciate the effort.

When I stepped onto the balcony, I was stunned. Dean had set up candles that flickered gently in the evening breeze, casting a warm glow over the table. He was sitting there, looking incredibly handsome, gazing out at the view.

"You look beautiful as always," Dean greeted me warmly. "Did you enjoy your shower? And is that my shirt?"

I nodded, taking my seat across from him. "Yeah, the motel showers are terrible. But I really like your shirt."

He chuckled and handed me my food and drink. "Yeah, I can imagine. And please, keep it. It looks amazing on you."

I smiled gratefully before my eyes widened in surprise. He had gotten me exactly what I loved—burgers and a chocolate milkshake. How did he know?

"Everything okay?" Dean's concerned voice brought me back to the moment. I nodded, smiling shyly. "Yeah... how did you know what I liked?"

Dean smirked and winked at me. "I just know you."

I must have looked puzzled because he laughed softly. "I put the pieces together. You mentioned you love burgers, and you used to get milkshakes with your dad when you were young. It's like a comfort drink for you."

I couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. Dean had been paying attention to the little details about me, things I hadn't even realized I had shared. It made me feel seen and cared for in a way I hadn't experienced before.

As we enjoyed our meal together, the evening unfolded into a perfect blend of laughter, shared stories, and stolen glances. Dean's presence was a comfort, his understanding and patience easing the lingering shadows of my past.

"So.." I started, staring back at him. "Tell me more about your parents, you said that their the only ones you've known to move fast like us, tell me about that?"

His smile was sad, but genuine as he leaned closer, "My mom and Dad met at a bus shelter. He asked her for the time, and she noticed he had a watch on-totally busted. But she answered anyways, and as they sat there, dad kept trying to come up with conversations, trying to work up the courage to ask her out."

I smirked at the thought of his parents, so cute just like he was.

"Anyways, by the time the bus came, my mom was waiting for him to get on, and he confessed he didn't need to take the bus, he just wanted to speak to the most beautiful girl in town. She fell for him right than and there-he's a smooth talking bastard."

I laughed loudly and shook my head, "Just like you."

His cheeks burned red and a laugh escaped his lips, "Well, thank you sweetheart."

"So how long have they been together now?"

He smiled, looking up to the sky. "They would have been married for 22 years. They got engaged two weeks after they met."

My eyes widen and I almost spit out my drink, "Two weeks?"

He laughed and nodded back, "I told you, they move fast. When they knew, they knew. Just like how I feel with you..."

I couldn't help but blush at his words. Was this really happening? Were we falling this hard, already?

Our conversation flowed from serious topics to lighter ones, and before we realized it, hours had passed. If it were up to me, I would have frozen time to stay in that moment forever.

After helping him tidy up, we headed to the bedroom. Nerves fluttered in my stomach because I knew what I wanted tonight. Dean stepped out to grab some water, and I grasped the opportunity. I quickly removed my leggings and shirt, then climbed onto the bed and lay down, ready.

Dean entered the room and smiled at me, then his gaze fell upon the little clothing I wore. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened, taking in every inch of me that was visible.

I expected to feel self-conscious, but instead I just felt his love and passion all around us, heating up the room.

I sat up and smiled, giving him a playful wink. "Any thoughts?"

He swallowed hard, putting the glass down on the dresser before coming towards the bed, his eyes locked on mine. "Oh sweetheart, I'm having plenty of thoughts right now.. God damn."

I smirked as my cheeks burned and the butterflies filled my belly. "Well, why don't you get down here and we could act some of them out?"

His breathing hitch and he chuckled, climbing onto the bed and slowly on top of me. His knee moved between my legs, pressing his body against mine.

My hands moved to his arms, pulling him more on top of me, wanting him impossibly close. He dipped down as his lips hit mine, and this time it was filled with passion and desire.

His hand moved down to my cheek, rubbing the skin gently as his other hand trailed down my stomach. His fingers were burning my skin as he moved them lower, every part of me was craving more.

His lips moved down to my cheek, then my neck, then my chest as he began kissing, licking, and nibbling at the skin he had access to. I couldn't supress the moan that left my mouth as his hand moved lower, tracing my hips and thighs, marking me for him.

His eyes locked into mine as his hands went lower, watching to make sure I was okay, that I was ready. I nodded and bit my lip as he pushed his hand underneath my panties, and rested in between my legs where I needed him the most.

His head dropped, a deep groan escaping his lips as his fingers played at my entrance, feeling how ready I was for him. His lips moved lower, licking the spot on my collarbone that he admired as his fingers pushed deeply inside of me.

I held onto his shoulders with a gasp, not expecting to be filled so deeply, so roughly, so irresistibly. He moved his fingers faster inside, and harder, concentrating on what made me tick, what made my back arch, and continuing to push me.

I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, vision going white as my body trembled underneath him, I was so close already, and he's barely touched me.

His fingers pushed harder inside of me as his other pulled my panties completly off, moving down to settle between my legs. I knew where this was headed, and instantly nerves flooded my system, this has never happened before.

My hands were trembling as I reached his cheek, his movements stilling as his eyes moving instantly to look at me. "Dean.. you don't have to do that.."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a dirty smirk spread across his lips. "Do what? Go down on you? Do you not want me to?"

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, "I uh... Nobody's ever..."

His eyes widened when he realized what I meant, his head lifting slightly to stare back at me, "I really want to... Can I show you how good it feels? If you don't like it, I can stop.."

I smiled and felt relief wash over me, he was doing this because he wanted to, not because he felt like he had to. He smirked as his head moved lower, licking his fingers before pushing them back into me before he leaned forward, licking a strip from the top to where his fingers were.

I shivered as a gasp left my mouth, causing him to chuckle. "Feels good?"

I nodded silently, and without hesitation, his tongue was swirling around my clit, stopping to suck while his fingers pumped faster, harder, deeper.

I moaned loudly into my fist as he pushed me to the breaking point, his tongue writing love notes all inside me as he moved his hand to my clit, chuckling when my back arched.

This was it, the release my body was craving, and he knew it. He lifted his head for a moment, eyes falling on my body. "C'mon sweetheart. Let me feel you cum for me."

I closed my eyes tightly as the pleasure coursed through my body. Flashes of white clouded my vision and my entire body was trembling to the point where Dean held my legs down, fingers still pumping deep inside. "Oh fuck, yeah that's it sweetheart, let go."

As I finally came down from the high, Dean climbed back over me, placing kisses all over my lips and neck, a chuckle vibrating against my skin.

I laughed and pulled him on top of me, kissing his lips hard and desperately. I needed him, I needed to feel him and he knew it. He kissed me harder and groaned into my neck while my hand wrapped moved to the front of his jeans, pawing his already solid erection.

He moaned low in his throat as his hand on my shoulder. “Jesus sweetheart, your'e going to kill me.”

I smirked and lifted his head to face me, “No, i’m just going to fuck you.”

He groaned at my response, licked his lips before stripping off his jeans and boxers, and climbing back over me. His hand moved lower, holding his cock and lining it up with my entrance. His mouth dropped, and I knew he was about to ask if I was ready, so I quickly wrapped my legs around him, pulling him into me, pushing him fully inside of me without warning.

He inhaled a deep, shaky breath as his head dropped, eyes slammed shut. "H-Holy fuck Y/N..."

My smile was wide as I pulled him lower, kissing his lips desperatly, silently begging him to move. He chuckled low, as he sat up slightly, hand moving to my hair, lips hovering over mine before he pulled out, and slammed back in roughly.

My back arched, and his hand slipped underneath me, pulling me impossibly close as he repeated the action-pulling out and slamming deep inside me, deeper than I've ever felt.

We were desperate, falling apart around each other, trying our hardest to hold onto this feeling forever. My moans got louder and more strangled and his growls were just bringing me closer, the sight of him like this was a dream come true.

His eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile playing at his lips. "Fuck, you're perfect."

My hand moved to his back, scratching the skin gently, smirking at the way his eyes lit up. "Dean... I'm so close."

He hummed in approval as he leaned closer, licking the area around my neck before biting it gently. "I'm right behind you baby, c'mon.. give me another one."

I could feel the pressure building, and my entire body was trembling underneath him, but he held me, dedicated to getting me there. His moans grew louder and breathy as he watched me fall apart, and suddenly he couldn't fall hold on anymore. He let go with me, filling me all the way, hands gripping at me tightly.

He slowed his movements, his forehead resting against mine, as the room filled with our heavy breathing and soft sighs.

I smiled up at him, tears welling in my eyes. I didn't mean to get emotional, I really didn't want to, but everything felt so right. It was like everything was falling into place, like he had rescued me.

He moved to lay beside me, his eyes filling with concern as he stared at the tears starting to fall down my cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Yeah.. I'm sorry." I whispered, my hands moving to my face to try to hide my eyes from him. He kissed my hands over and over, slowly pulling them off so I could see him.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head frantically and turned to look at him, "Nothing! That was just... really amazing. I've never felt that connection before, it was a little overwhelming.."

He smirked and lay down beside me, pulling me close to his chest. "I've never felt a connection like that either. I can't believe how close I feel to you."

I kissed his chest, and gazed up at him. "I think I love you."

His smile grew wide as his lips kissed my head, "I think I love you too, sweetheart. Get some sleep. I'll be here."

I nodded, resting my head on his chest. Everything finally felt perfect and right in my life, and I cherished it. Yet, I couldn't shake the fear that something might take it all away. Deep down, I sensed I might be right.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 6 coming soon stay tuned! Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Any more Delta headcanons? Especially angsty ones 🙏🙏🙏

Hmm..let’s see.

Once Color leaves their shared apartment, Delta often finds himself just..sitting alone in a messy apartment.

Color always had a tendency to clean up after Delta, because Delta frequently forgets to clean up and can tolerate most mess—Delta often lives in organized chaos. Everything has its place.

But sometimes Delta forgets to put things in their place, says he will but forgets, so Color just often did it for him.

I think Delta will eventually struggle to adjust to the changes in his life, with Color away with Killer and Epic away with Cross. He’d worry if this means he’s being left behind, or if their trio is starting to grow distant.

He’d often wonder the place, finding pieces left behind that point to a once lived in place, wandering around as if he know longer recognizes his home. Or as if the home doesn’t welcome him anymore.

Color’s old photos and journals left in boxes, his books and cameras. A reassuring sight, because it means that maybe Color will be back eventually. One of his jackets, a pair of Epic’s gloves, and maybe Delta will decide to wear them; to feel like they’re still here.

Beta’s drawings are still pinned to their tiny, busted up fridge; a drawing of them holding hands with Color and Epic, a tiny little drawing of Delta himself off to the side with an arrow pointed at him that reads “poopy head :(“. It gains a little chuckle from Delta.

I can Beta’s sadness that they don’t get see Color or Epic as much anymore blending into Sans, the two of them having to struggle to separate their blurry identities into distinct halves.

They start frequently losing time, forgetting to eat or shower, and are often plagued by nightmares (memories) of being trapped in a glass jar, frantically screaming and banging on the glass to try and gain dream Color & Epic’s attention. But they never hear the screams, and never think to look.

Sometimes they picture Color and Epic dying instead, either at the hands of a human or at their own hands; because Color and Epic were trying to capture them, and they had no choice but to fight back.

Beta and Sans’ memories mixing up in their nightmares, Color and Epic now taking the place of the actual people that were in these memories.

They often walk around in a daze most days, avoiding mirrors more than ever and struggling to tell what is and isn’t real.

Maybe this is even around the time and the main reason why Color recommends they get therapy, and perhaps Epic is the one who suggests a service dog.

Maybe the two planned a little surprise to come visit Sans and Beta one day, because they realized its been too long and they did miss their friends, but they weren’t expecting to come back to a trashed house and a dirty, starving, dissociated Delta.

And so while Epic goes to make them something to eat and drink, Color sets about cleaning up the house. It takes a bit of encouragement and help from Epic and Color to ground them back to the present and feed themselves, because they keep getting confused and forgetting what they were doing.

Once they eat all they can manage, Epic and Color then go about setting up a bath for them; maybe they even help them bathe themselves and get dressed into something cleaner and more comfortable.

After that it’s time for a cuddle session and a nap, all four them. Sans and Beta are beyond confused when they wake up in the middle of the night to Color and Epic cuddling them on both sides and squeezing them tightly.

They’re warm, clean, comfortable and safe; but confused, because they assumed yesterday was a dream. They’re relieved to find it’s not, however, lying back down to bask in the warmth of their friends.

The four of them have a lot to discuss in the morning, Zorox will be coming into their lives soon as well, but that’s for in the morning.

I also like to headcanon that Delta is the one who makes all of Color’s cameras and also the laptop he’d need to edit all his photos. Anyone else have any headcanons?

[fangirlera-part2]

Been going through some stuff lately and a sad one shot was made (not a great one but you know). Not gonna lie, I'm not really feeling this but the story is below the divider.

✦ Genre: Hurt (idk what else)

✦ Warnings: Implied self-unaliving, Implied depression, self-harm (mention of blood), self-hatred (if you squint hard enough), Please let me know what else I'm missing I haven't had to use warnings before on here.

✦ Word Count: 1.1k ✦ Masterlist

Chan stared at the one-sided texts that he knew would soon be undeliverable. His puffy eyes felt heavy as they filled with tears again. He wasn’t even sure that he had any tears left after the past few weeks. Closing out of the message, he opened his gallery for the umpteenth time today. He scrolled through the photos until he found the one he was searching for. It was from one of their many movie nights. He had chosen to watch The Ring because he remembered Y/N saying she had never watched it before. She tried her usual bargaining for a different movie whenever it was his turn to choose. Ultimately, she lost and spent most of the night with her face buried in his neck. Every musical change or small noise would result in her clutching onto his jacket and burying deeper into him as he just smiled. Chan could still smell her honeydew shampoo on his sweater as he pulled it over his nose.

He swiped again to be faced with a photo he had been avoiding anytime he opened the app. Y/N was asleep in his bed after a particularly long night. She was wearing one of his oversized shirts as she covered her face with her arms. In the photo Chan could make out the scars and fresh wounds that lined them. The night before, she had called him crying so hard she couldn’t speak. He remembers leaving in the middle of practice just to run to her; luckily her apartment was only a 10-minute walk from the studio. He had found her sitting in her bathroom, blood on her arms and legs as she cried. “I’m sorry. Chan I’m so sorry. I- I’m sorry.” Was all she kept saying as he quickly and carefully cleaned her up before practically forcing her to go back to the dorms with him, so she wasn’t alone. She was always so happy and cheerful, but Chan knew the truth. He wanted to be her safe space, the one she could run to no matter what happened. But no matter how many times he tried telling her to call him when she went into a downward spiral, she couldn’t help but keep it all in until it eventually spilled out in a destructive manor. The destruction always resulted in her living in pants and long sleeves for weeks on end. All he could do was try and take her mind off of things until she was ready to finally talk. With everything that was going on with her at the time he didn’t want to confess his feelings in fear of adding more pressure on her. He knew she didn’t like the spotlight that was shining on her after a photo of them coming out of a restaurant had appeared a few months ago. Even though the company released a statement explaining she was an old friend, that didn’t stop the fans from commenting on her and their friendship. It took her days to remove all the comments and make all her social media private after that. Chan began to wonder if those same comments are what lead to this pain in the first place.

As he continued to silently torture himself with old photos and videos the bedroom door opened. It was Felix with a bag, “Hyung, Y/N’s brother came by with the necklaces.” The younger boy sat at the foot of the bed, setting the bag in front of Chan. “I-I know you miss her, we all do; but I don’t think she would want you to cry every time you look at her photos.” Chan clicked his phone off, still refusing to turn around. Felix sighed and patted his friends back, “Her brother also said there’s something addressed to you in there too.” With that he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Chan wiped his tears before pulling the contents out of the bag. There was a jewelry case and heart shaped note inside with his name scribbled across the front, the same heart she folded every one of her notes to him in. Inside the case was a silver necklace with an hourglass pendant filled with her ashes. He felt his breathing hitch as he gently turned the pendant down, letting the ashes slowly fall. As he watched he looked towards the note, he almost didn’t want to read it, but knew he had to. Careful as to not tear any corners he unfolded the heart, inside his eyes carefully reading each word, pausing every so often whenever a dry tear spot appeared on the page. Chan’s vision began to blur as he leaned his head back, placing both the necklace and letter onto the pillow. “You’re really gone.” Was all he could say before the tears began falling for the umpteenth time again.

Note:

Channie,

Do you remember the first day we met cause I do. My brother had somehow talked the company into letting me shadow him for the day ‘to experience the industry in real time’ was what he told them. I remember him introducing me to the eight of you and the moment I saw you I wanted to just hit you for the way you made my stomach hurt just from laughing. I know I’m not there anymore, and I know you’re probably pretending to be okay, but please don’t be sad. The boys love you and you can lean on them during this time. You should lean on them during this time. I hope you will always remember that you’re my hoodmouse that I told everything to. Everything except for how I would purposefully not check the time whenever I was with you in hopes you’d walk me home. You always insisted on me staying over instead. Or how I actually loved scary movies and only pretended to be scared so I could cuddle up to you. How I always wanted to hold your hand wherever we went but was too scared to. So, I always said we had to hold hands crossing the street. I remember the face you made the first time I suggested that and the smile on your face after you realized I wasn’t going to move unless we were ‘safe crossing the street’. Every time I said I love you that I meant it, and I just wish I could’ve told you before leaving. So, Channie, I’m telling you now, I love you and I loved you from the moment I met you. I hope you’ll be happy and know that I’ll always be with you even if you can’t see me.

[whisperingwillowxox]

Bookworm

Hey guys! I had this idea for a fic and wanted to share it with you. It was only supposed to be a one-shot, but if anyone would like a part 2, just leave a comment and let me know.

Summary: Reader finds themself stuck at the library. Luckily our favourite Spree driver is there to save the day.

Warnings: afab!Reader/mentions of a past abusive relationship.

Word Count: 2076

It was raining. It had seemed like a nice day when you had set off in your little sundress that kissed your mid-thigh. It didn’t now though, as you watched through the library doors as the rain bounced off the sidewalk, the black clouds showing no sign of it stopping. Sighing, you clutch the book you’d just taken out closer to your chest. Today of all days you had decided against taking your backpack, and now you were having to consider how you were going to get home without getting drenched.

Resigning yourself to spending the rest of the afternoon waiting until the rain finally died off, you walk back towards the main desk where the head librarian, Eliza, was perched. “You ok, Hun?” She asked gently, looking at you over the top of her glasses. Eliza had been working at the Azusa Public Library for the last 40 years, and she had quickly become your favourite person since you moved to this town after breaking up with your ex, wanting a fresh start.

“I will be when this rain stops. I walked here today and didn’t bring any money for the bus.” You huffed.

“Let me get you a Spree.” Eliza smiled, pulling her phone out from under the desk.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” You try to argue, but the older woman was already waving you off.

“That rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon, Dear.” Eliza tells you, already tapping away at the screen. “Besides, I’ve got to make sure my books stay in good condition. What’s your address?”

You rattled it off as you stood there, still clutching the book to your chest. Eliza’s kindness is something that took you a little while to get used to. You didn’t really have any friends growing up, and your parents were never home, and when they were they weren’t exactly the most affectionate. For a little while you thought you’d found what you were missing in your ex, but once you moved in with him, he changed, becoming controlling and mean. He’d play on your insecurities to knock down your confidence, until you only felt safe with him. It had taken you a hot second to realise what he’d done, but once you did you packed your stuff and got out of there. You may now live in a small town, in an even smaller apartment, but you were proud of yourself for getting back on your feet.

“Oh, that was fast!” Eliza said suddenly. “He’s just around the corner. A white Prius, the driver is a ‘Kurt Kunkle’.” She read.

“Thank you so much, Eliza.” You smile gratefully. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“None of that.” She said, once again waving you off. “Just get home safe, Dear.”

The car in question pulled up just as you got to the doors. You tried to hide the book under your arms and pulled it tighter to your chest, before flinging the door open and rushing to the car.

You practically dove into the backseat, shutting the door, and scooting over to sit behind the passenger seat.

“Oh, um, hello.”

You look up and are met with the prettiest brown eyes you’d ever seen. “Hi.” You said shyly, placing the book on the seat next to you to put your safety belt on.

The driver, ‘Kurt’ you reminded yourself, looked at his phone and then back at you, a frown creasing between his brows. “Um, a-are you sure you’re in the right car?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Glancing at his phone you saw that the only thing Kurt had for reference on who he was picking up was a photo. A photo of a 60+ year old woman. “Oh! Yes, sorry. Eliza works at the library; she didn’t want me walking home in the rain.” You quickly tried to explain. Kurt seemed to deem this an acceptable answer, confirming your actual name and address address before pulling away.

Figuring you’d kill some time, you reached for your book, only then noticing the camera facing you. You glanced around the car, counting 6 cameras in total, and shrank back in your seat. “Um, Kurt?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah?” He glanced at you in the rear-view mirror, a friendly smile seemingly glued to his features.

“Why are there so many cameras in here?”

“Oh!” He grinned, and you immediately noticed the excitement radiating from him. “It’s for my channel. I’m a content creator.”

He seemed happy with his own answer, somewhat proud even, but you felt a sudden wave of anxiety creep up on you. “This…” You started, nervously fiddling with the hem of your dress. “This isn’t like…a sex thing, is it?”

You watch in the mirror as Kurt’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, and it would have been funny if you weren’t mentally preparing yourself to jump from a moving car at the first moment of danger.

“No! G-God no! I just s-stream my Spree rides.” He choked out. “I just talk to my Kurties, try and make the rides more exciting.”

“Kurties?” You ask, less nervous now and more curious.

“My fans.” He grinned again, stopping at a set of lights. He whipped round to look at you, making you jump slightly at the suddenness of his action. “You should follow me! I’m KurtsWorld96!”

Watching him smile and looking so excitable, you realised how pretty this boy was. Sure, his hair was a little greasy, but it didn’t distract you from his kind face, squared with a little bit of stubble coming through. “I’d love to, but I don’t have social media.” You said sheepishly.

Kurt’s face pinched into a frown again, as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. A car horn from behind alerted him that the lights were changed, and he turned back away from you, and you couldn’t help but kind of miss the eye contact.

“How do you not have a social media presence?” He asked, seemingly baffled. “What about your brand? Like what you’re putting out for the world to see.”

“A ‘brand’ would imply that I’m someone important.” You tell him quietly. “I’m not, I’m just me.”

His frown didn’t go away but he didn’t say anything else so you assume that the conversation must be over. You swallow down the disappointment, and instead open your book and try to focus on the words, rather than your embarrassing attempt at conversation with a cute boy.

You were happily pretending to concentrate on the pages in front of you when Kurt cleared his throat. “What’s that you’re- what are you reading?” He stumbled with his words, and you couldn’t help but find it slightly endearing.

“Good Omens.” You answer apprehensively. In your experience whenever someone asks what book you’re reading, it’s either to make a joke at your expense, or you overestimate their interest and watch as they don’t bother to hide their bored expression.

Kurt glances at you in his mirror again, “I’ve never heard of that. What’s it a-about?”

You watch him for a second. His interest seems genuine, but you’ve made this mistake before. Instead, you drop your gaze and fiddle with the edge of the page. “It’s about an angel and a demon who lose the Anti-Christ. They’ve got to find him before he ends the world.

You look back up and see Kurt’s brows risen in surprise. “S-sounds super dark. You don’t look like you’d b-be into that sort of- kind of thing.”

“Oh, it’s not actually dark. It sort of encapsulates the idea that people can defy expectations, and that everyone has free will. Just because the Anti-Christ was born to destroy the world, doesn’t mean he wants to. We can be who we want to be. Plus, it’s funny and there’s this romantic subtext between the angel and demon-” You cut yourself off, realising that you had probably began to ramble the poor boy to death.

When you look back at him, you expect his eyes to be glazed over, but he’s smiling at you. Not a little polite smile either, a big beaming smile like you’ve just given him some amazing news. “Y-you like books, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat up as your mouth opens and closes a few times, not really knowing how to react to this curveball Kurt has sent your way. “Hey, t-there’s nothing wrong with that. B-books aren’t really my vib- my thing, but that doesn’t m-mean you can’t like them.” You watched as he turned to the camera set up right next to him “You s-should never stop doing the stuf- things you’re passionate about.” He finished. He spoke in a tone that gave off the impression of wisdom, but it was immediately extinguished when he finished his speech by throwing up a peace sign to the camera.

You couldn’t have stopped the giggle that bubbled out of you if you wanted to, and it was worth it when Kurt blushed so hard the top of his ears went pink. You caught his bashful smile in the mirror and smiled to yourself as you opened your book again.

You sat in silence for a little while longer, reading your book and trying to fight a grin whenever Kurt would make a comment on something to his “fans”. But eventually you felt the car pull up and looked up to see your apartment block staring back at you.

“I think this is you.” Kurt said quietly, and you hoped the disappointment you thought you heard in his tone wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks on you.

“Yeah.” You tried to keep your tone light, but the truth was Kurt was one of the only people you’d ever met that made you feel so comfortable in such a short space of time. You blame it on the fact that he’s so awkward and dorky that you can’t help but feel relaxed.

You unclipped your safety belt and once again pulled your book close to your chest, mentally calculating the sprint from the car to your door. You looked back at Kurt to find the boy, once again, already staring at you. “Thank you, Kurt.” You smiled shyly.

Any moment that may have been forming was quickly ruined as a robotic voice sounded from Kurt’s phone, startling you slightly. “OMG man just ask for her number. You stupid?”

Kurt blinked at you, his blush coming back in full force. “I, um, you don’t have to- u-unless you want to-”

“Yes.” You said quickly.

Kurt’s eyes widened in shock, and you could practically hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt. “Yes?”

You give him a small smile as you once again felt your own cheeks heat up. “Yes, you can have my number.” You tell him quietly.

The grin that takes over Kurt’s face is almost blinding as he giddily grabs his phone from the holder and opens his contacts. You pull your phone out from the little pocket in your dress and flip it open, finding your own number. When you look back up at him, he has the most confused expression you think you’ve ever seen on another human. He’s staring at the device in your hand, an old Nokia flip phone, as if he’s trying to figure out a difficult maths equation.

“Yeah…” You start awkwardly. “I told you I’m not really one for the whole social media thing. Seemed silly paying all that money for a phone when I’m just using it for texts and calls.”

“Yeah, t-that makes sense I guess.” Kurt smiles.

You rattle off your number and Kurt quickly types it into his phone. I’ll text you so you can save m-my number too.”

“That sounds good, Kurt.” You both smile at each other. His phone pinging makes the both of you jump and he looks down at it with a frown. “Oh crap, I have another Spree request.” He says disappointed.

“That’s ok.” You smile, putting your phone back into you pocket. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll talk to you later.” You tell him, throwing him one last shy smile before clutching your book and making a bolt for your apartment block.

Later, after you had showered and were curled up on your couch reading, your phone vibrated in your pocket against your leg. You smiled as you opened the message from an unsaved number.

“Hey! It’s Kurt!’

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ S I X

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous : F I V E

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

“Are you my daddy?” 

Alex froze.  How?  How does she explain to her almost three-year-old about his father?  But it was like instinct when James opened his mouth.  

“Yea buddy.  I am.  I was able to come back for you and your mama.”  

“Yay!  Does that mean we can ride in your police car?” 

Alex tried to stop the giggle that escaped but failed.  Of course, that’s what Drew wanted, to ride in the police car.  

“I don’t have it with me, but we can later ok?” 

“Okays.” Drew started to exam the badge again.  “Can we go to the park daddy?”   

James looked at Alex.  She nodded.  “Sure pal.  Let’s get your backpack.”  

“Okays!  Miss Wanda!” He yelled as he ran for his bag.  

James drew Alex in.  “He’s perfect,” he whispered.  

“He’s you,” she replied with a smile.  

Drew came back, an oversized pack on his back holding his teacher’s hand.  “Miss Wanda look!” 

Wanda came over and gave a hug to Alex.  “Hey sweetie.”  She looked at James.  “Well, that photo does not do you justice.”  She smiled.  “Wanda Maximoff.”  

“James Barnes. Uh, how’s he doing? That’s what I should ask right?” 

Alex and Wanda giggled at his hesitance.  “He’s very bright.  He’s almost at kindergarten level with colors, shapes.  He can almost write, and he can read like a champ.”  

“Oh.  Well, he gets that from his mom,” James smirked, get a blush from Alex.  “Thank you for teaching him Miss Maximoff.”  

“Please, its Wanda and its my pleasure.  Been watching him since he was a baby.  I live next door to Ale,” she explained. “I kept an eye out on both of them.”  

The news that someone was watching for his girl and his child.  Something he wish he had the chance to do.  Something he wasn’t going to shrink away from it. It made him angry that Grey took this away from him. “Thank you, Wanda.  Really.” 

“Well Drew, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

“Yes Miss Wanda.” Drew hugged his teacher again before taking James’s hand.  They headed back to the street and to the park that was down the street from the guys’ apartment. Drew reached up for his mother’s hand and started to swing in between.  James stopped, took his back pack and then continued to swing him.  The moment was so domestic, so normal, something they were both missing.  

Once they reached the park, Drew took off to the playground and James and Alex sat on the bench. “Tell me about him.”  

“His birthday is April 5th.  He was a big baby, 9lbs.  I went full term, all nine months. No complications.  I had Nat and Wanda to help me through … through most of it.” She swallowed.  

“Nat?” 

“Natasha Romanoff.  She’s a hacker, one of the best in the world.  She and I met at MIT before I left.  She went freelance.  We kept in touch and when I ran, she took me in.  Help me get set up with some work and found the apartment next to Wanda.  When she thought I was sick, she took me to the clinic.  Said she didn’t know you, but you would murder her if something happened to me.”  

“Damn right I would.   Will I get to meet her?” 

“If you want.” Alex chewed her lip. “What do we tell Steve?” 

“The truth doll.  He deserves the truth.”  

“Call him.  Maybe he can meet us here?” 

“Sure.” James texted Steve who replied he was on the way when Drew came running. “Daddy! Push me.” 

“So bossy.  Like your mama,” he said with a smirk.  “Ok Chief let’s go.”  He picked up his son and tossed him up, with squeals.  Alex held her breath until he was back on James’s arms.  

“Not ok, Barnes.”  

“What?  I would never drop him.” James threw her a wink as he carried Drew back to the swings.  

Alex sat, going over the last few hours, unbelieving that her family was being put back together.  Would she finally have a chance to be happy?  Or did she need to wait for the other shoe to drop? She jumped when a hand settled on her shoulder.  

“Sorry Alex.  I thought you heard me.” Steve came and sat down next to her.  “Where’s Bucky?” 

“He’s… he’s with our son on the swings.”  She couldn’t look at Steve.  She knew the face she would see if she looked up.  

“Son?” Steve looked over to the playground where James was with a little boy.  “Alex?” 

“Found out a couple of weeks after I left.  I had to tell him first, Stevie.” She looked up at their best friend. “It’s the main reason I stayed away.”  

“Oh Alex. I’m so sorry you had to do this alone.”  Steve wrapped and arm around her and they watched James with Drew. Alex told everything to Steve before Drew came running over.  He stopped short of Steve.  

“Who are you?  Don’t touch my mama!” 

James came running over and smiled when Steve removed his arm around Alex.  He kneeled down to the ground next to Drew.  “Drew, that is your uncle Stevie.  He’s mama and daddy’s best friend.”  

“Uncle Stevie?” 

“Yeah Chief.  He’s a policeman just like me.  You wanna say hi?”  Little Drew nodded.  He took his father’s hand and they walked towards his mother. “Drew, this is Uncle Stevie.  Steve this is Drew Richards-Barnes.”   

“Hello Drew.  It’s nice to meet you.”  Steve gave the little boy his hand.  Drew looked up to his dad, who nodded, before taking his hand.  

“You’re big.  Like daddy. Do you have a badge too?” 

Steve chuckled before pulling the badge out for Drew to see.  Drew took it and examined it.  He beamed that it was the same as his fathers.  

“He looks just like you Bucky.”  

“I know.  Did she?” 

“Yeah, she told me.  God, you’ve procreated.  Never thought I would see the day when there was a mini you running loose on the streets.”  

“Shut it punk. He’s perfect.” His eyes stayed on Drew as he sat on the ground to examine the badge.  He stood up to give it back to Steve.  

“Mama?  I’m hungry.”  

“Ok baby.  Let’s get some lunch.”  She went to pick him up, but James was quicker, pulling his son into his arms.  

“Whatcha want Chief?”  

“Macaroni!”  

“That happens to be my specialty.  Let’s go!” He put Drew on his shoulders as they walked back to the guys’ apartment.  

Alex pulled out her phone as they walked.  

A: Hey you  N: was wondering when you would text  A: why  N: I can meet you   A: How did you know  N: When you left the diner abruptly, I turned on your phone  A: Nat!  N: Ale  A: We promised  N: and only when we thought the other was in trouble.  I have the address  

Alex shook her head as she put her phone away.  Steve looked at her curiously.  “What?” 

“Who were you texting?” 

“Nat.  My best friend here.  She’s coming over.”  

James looked at her.  “What?” 

“We track each other, for safety reasons.  When I left the diner earlier in a rush, she hacked my phone and started listening.”  

“Jesus, Allie, you’re ok with that?” 

“She’s just watching out for me.  She knows about Grey and this is just a precaution.  She’s been wanting to meet you.” 

“Meet a woman who is stalking you.  Yeah ok.”  

Steve interrupts, trying to defuse the tension. “Is she cute?” 

“Don’t Stevie.  Doesn’t play for our team.”  

Once in the apartment, James set up Drew with some paper and markers while he went into the kitchen to make some boxed mac and cheese.  Alex slides her arms around him.  “Are you mad?” 

“I’m trying to go over all of this.  I mean, this day has been surreal.  You were gone yesterday and today you’re back and we have a kid.  Really, I’m surprise I’m not losing my shit on the couch.”  James looks into the living room where Drew is showing Steve his drawing. “This is real.”  

“Yeah, it is.  Blows my mind too.”  She kissed his neck, hearing him hum in pleasure.  

James turned around in her arms, wrapping his around her. “Let’s go to dinner tonight.  Just you and me.”   

“What about Drew?  I don’t have a babysitter.”  

“Steve can watch Drew.  He’s a giant kid himself. Besides, when you move in here, he’s gotta get used to the baby.”  

“Whoa, slow your roll?  When am I moving?” 

“Seriously? Alex, we are married.  Of course, you’re moving.”  

“I just assumed you would move in with me.”  

“And leave Steve by himself? The punk can barely take care of himself.”  

“He lived alone in New York.”  

“And was at our place more often than his own.  We have an extra room here.  We can make it Drew’s room.  Its be us, then Drew, then Steve.  It works.”  

Alex pulled back. “You really want us to move?” 

“This weekend.  Tomorrow, tonight if I could.  I need to have my family with me Alex.  That you, that’s Drew and that’s Steve.”  

Alex could see the desperation in his eyes, the fear that if he let go, she would slip away.  She looked at her son, who was now in Steve’s lap reading a book.  “What happens if Grey finds out were back together?” 

“He won’t.  You never changed your name, right?” 

“Legally no.  Here I go by Nicola.  Nicola Barnes. James cocked a brow at her. “I get paid in cash as a freelancer.” 

“Ok, so let’s get your name legally changed.  You can be Alex Barnes, like you were meant to be. He won’t find you, they aren’t looking.” He pulled in for a kiss and Alex was thrown back to their second date.  

Four years ago… second date… 

“So, what would be the ideal family look like,” Alex asked, chewing on the end of her straw.  

“We are going deep now,” James said with a chuckle.  “Let me think about this.” He rested his elbows on the table and head in hands, staring at her. “You, with my last name, and like four kids. Big house with an apartment for Steve because I know that punk would still not have a girlfriend.”  

Alex giggled.  “And what makes you think that I’ll take your name.  I happen to like my last name.”  

“You could hyphenate it.  Considering I don’t think you’ve ever told me your last name.”  

“Oh, well I can’t help that you flashed your badge when you paid last time and I got yours, Detective Barnes.”  

“So you’re not gonna tell me.”  He lifted her hand and placed small kisses on each knuckle.  

Alex swooned at the gesture.  “Richards.  Alex Richards.”  

“Beautiful,” he said with a smile.  “But Alex Barnes sounds so much better.”  

“I’ve known you a week.  How about we give it a year before this topic comes back up.”  

“Got yourself a deal doll.”  

“Don’t call me doll.”  

“Alex Barnes does sound better,” Alex whispered into James’s ear.  His face split into a big smile.  “But after you take me on a date, Detective.”  

“Its Inspector now.  But I’ll always be just Jamie for you, doll.”  

NEXT

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[fullcry]

@theaba12: Prompt maybe for the LP&G fic um i Sufi at these but maybe Meryl writing being seen by vash or I don’t know would she share her writings?

A/N: This one also got away from me, lol. But I hope you enjoy! Set in the universe of Love and Peace and Gunsmoke.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

He stared at the door, wide smile still in place, her half-eaten plate of eggs and toast sitting on the table opposite him. He waited a moment to see if she came back—forgot something, had something else to add to her long list of meticulous instructions. But when her footsteps down the stairs fell into silence he let his smile fall and his shoulders relax.

He ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

Well. Here he was. In Meryl’s apartment. She let him come with her, just like he’d asked.

God, what was he thinking?

He pushed his chair out of the table and stood, moving into the small adjoining living room where he looked around, taking in a life well lived. She had a worn two seater couch, an armchair, an oval coffee table littered with knitted coasters sitting atop a ratty rug, the edges of which were beginning to fray.

Along the walls hung photographs, some of which he recognized from their travels: Jeneora Rock, before its destruction. Enora Ravine. Rostrum.

But there were others he didn’t recognize.

A photo of a city skyline–December, maybe? A long shot of a modest plant array, all the bulbs clean and healthy. Then there was one that really drew his attention, at the far end of the wall near the window.

It was a large photo in a decorative frame of Meryl holding an award wearing a fancy blue dress. Milly was holding her tight around the shoulders, face split in a grin, the photo taken close up but far enough away to see the plaque Meryl held up next to them. It read, in large gold letters:

Meryl Stryfe November Journalist Society Journalist of the Year

She looked different: her dark hair was long and thick, cascading over her shoulders in gentle waves. There was a glow about her face, though he supposed that could simply have been due to the cause for the occasion.

But unlike Milly, she wore a sad smile, at odds with the happy scene.

He frowned, uncertain for a moment when in the timeline of his absence this could have been. When realization hit him he sucked in a sharp breath and agonized, once again, over everything he had missed.

He turned to the opposite wall, deciding instead to investigate her bookcase and hoping it had fewer unintentional guilt traps waiting for him. The shelf was small, but filled to the brim with books and journals and magazines and old newspapers. To his delight there was a whole row of aging dime novels and he plucked one off the shelf, grinning widely when he saw the author’s name at the bottom.

C.C. James.

He jumped onto the couch and settled with his head over one armrest, legs dangling over the other, eagerly flipping it open. He hadn’t read a dime novel in ages, but he knew all of hers by heart. He’d been a fan since long before he found out she had written them.

To this day he still didn’t know what she was so embarrassed about.

He glanced quickly at the clock in the kitchen, noting the time. He had about an hour—plenty of time to read through one short story. With a smile, he turned to the first page, and began to read.

[keenpoetryblizzard]

The Footsteps Die Out Forever

The Footsteps Die Out Forever

I woke up. Normal. Painless. Secure. Questioningly, strangely, even so, comfortable. There was no piercing pain on the nape of my neck or a throbbing ache on my frontal lobe, not even a blistering discomfort when I extended my neck to reach my straw. The environment that surrounds me is lively and safe, not even close to those uncomfortable hospital beds with searing fluorescent lights hanging overhead that hit your eyes hard enough to serve their intended purpose, to make you feel fear and helplessness. I’m in my mother’s apartment. Family photo frames adorn the run-down, discolored walls, which should have been repainted years ago. That signature smell of Asida wafting from the kitchen filling the living room with warm and loving memories. That special feeling of home that has been missing in my life since I left for New Hampshire to go to law school. For the first time, there is no one else here. Usually there’s my mother in her nursing scrubs on the landline with Aunt Charise conversing and complaining loudly about Gretchen from H.R, or my brother Ali loudly smacking his lips eating a huge turkey leg because apparently " 'You don’t get strong eating like a princess'." There is just silence. I notice that the coffee table that is usually hidden under unopened mail, restaurant coupons, and newspaper clippings is totally empty-- except for a lone VCR tape. That’s weird because our old VCR, which was covered in dust and lint, was thrown out by my mom ages ago. And somehow, there it is, settled near the TV set, the old VCR that showed many of our family home videos and my favorite movies from childhood. I grab the tape and hesitate before finally choosing to put it in.

"He saved me... I don’t even know who he is... and he saved me." A quivering woman cried, looking at the body that was quietly breathing, tucked under the covers of the lumpy hospital bed. I’m here again, but I’m not in my weak, ailing body. I’m right next to her, watching her look at the decaying and deteriorating body.

"I don’t even know why he did it." The woman sobbed, and shortly after, she broke down in tears, her shoulders shaking violently.

" Every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other." Another woman (I'm guessing her mother) says softly before wrapping her arms around the weeping figure.

Suddenly, all the memories hit me like a violent storm.  It was an underwhelming and boring January afternoon, the bright sun contrasting greatly with the cold gray weather. I walked out of the warm coffee shop to head back to the dreary law office where I am interning. Law wasn’t even my first choice for a professional career. My mom always supported my brother and I to fulfill our passions in life. My brother was going to pursue a career in football. I saw the strain it put on my mom. She invested all her time in supporting his dream, worried that he might get hurt or, even worse, might not be good enough. So, I decided that law would be the appropriate job to support them both.

I turn the corner and see a woman, dressed formally, talking on her phone animatedly with authority. The light turned green and the woman walked on to her destination. Suddenly, the loud screeching of tires overshadowed the busy street. A car driving down carelessly, not even trying to stop, sped towards the crosswalk. The woman stood frozen, now undistracted from her phone, seeming not to hear the hurried shouts for her to get out of the way. Instinctively, I run over to push her towards the sidewalk. And suddenly, everything turned dark.

"How am I going to face them?" The whimpering woman asked after a long period of silence. “His mother’s voice on the phone was so… and now his family is coming and…This all could have been avoided if I had just jumped out of the way."

"Molly." The older woman paused before continuing, "That person was driving recklessly. Your life was in danger, and you were scared. At times like these, it is important to remember that you cannot carry such a burden on your shoulders."

I watched the scene in front of me with great sorrow, not for the loss of my spirit that has detached from the incapacitated body that will soon stop breathing, but for the weeping woman to whom I have gifted this awful guilt because of my own actions. The feeling of desolation that I have given to my mother and my brother. The sense of disappointment from my professors and employers, believing that my talent was wasted, I cannot even imagine the confusion and bewilderment that they are all feeling. Only one question comes to mind: why did he do it? That was a question that they might never get an answer to. Maybe he knew the mystery woman? Maybe he wanted to be seen as a hero? Maybe he was just plain stupid? To be perfectly honest, the second that car ran the red light on that colorless January afternoon, I wasn’t really thinking; I only really saw her. The unnamed woman, Molly, who seemed so commanding and ardent when she was talking on her phone. So passionate, so driven, strutting along the sidewalk with such dedication and determination to make it to her destination. She had a faint grin on her face, her eyes rising to show her pleased expression. She seemed happy to wake up every day and be able to succeed in something that gives her joy, a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. Seeing Molly frozen on the crosswalk with that terrified look in her eye, that believed that all of the happiness she worked for would be gone in an instant, ignited something inside of me, telling me to bolt over to her, disregarding my life in the process. I walked over to the two women and kneeled in front of Molly. I glanced down at the tiled floor, wishing there was some way I could communicate with her. " Please don’t blame yourself for this," I spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be heard, "Don’t end up like me. You will have a lot of happiness in the time to come… You deserve to have a future, you deserve to have a life you love." I hope with all my heart that that message will resonate with her somewhere in the future. I turned around and looked at the cold, dying body nearing its end and felt a wave of calm run through me. Everything will hurt, so much so that sometimes the pain and the guilt will be unbearable, but in the end, it will pass, just a bump on the road to euphoria. I can’t help but think of my mother. So hardworking, loving, she has sacrificed so much to make my brother and I happy. And Ali, so talented, so deserving, I remember those chilly November Thanksgiving afternoons when he would narrate the annual football game, conscious of the fact that I couldn’t care less about it; he’ll blow everyone out of the water with that pointy laced ball in his hands. Molly, who has gotten the chance to continue her life, a second chance at happiness, and who’ll achieve so much more than she thought she was capable of. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known. I breathe in and out, now finally aware of all my surroundings. I close my eyes and inhale, when I open them, I am safe and in my mother’s apartment again. I look at the VCR near the TV set and carefully remove the tape. Sometime after, on the land of the living, in that cold hospital room, the limp body’s breathing turned lighter and slower till soon it would cease to make movement.

[little-miss-raven]

Something short i wrote based on this, and a few ideas in the comments, such as her name. i hope you like it >:D

You might wonder, what does The Spider-Punk do on his day off? When he’s not saving people, battling fascists, or taking down a totalitarian government, what does he do? It changes day to day, no surprise there, but today he’s doing something very punk: Shopping at a few small local stores.

Hobie wanders the side streets, eyeing the various thrift stores and second hand shops in between the big brand companies. He doesn’t have any favorites, just whatever catches his eye or any places he hasn’t visited yet. Maybe he’ll stop by a friend’s stall and pick up some food while he’s out.

While pondering his next move, he spots someone familiar. Up ahead of him is a head of grey, coily hair with a pink wrap. She’s so short he would’ve missed her if it weren't for his own height. Well, maybe he would’ve heard the clacking of her thick jewelry pieces. Her granddaughter made them, as he’s been told a few times.

She’s carrying a bag almost as big as her, leaning back a bit to accommodate the weight of it. He scans around her. No one offers the old woman any help, of course. He scoffs. Hobie mumbles about disrespect and lack of basic kindness as he makes his way towards her.

“Mornin’, Miss June. Wanna hand with tha’?” He leans down a bit as he slows to her speed, stopping when she does. He takes his hands out of his vest pockets and offers them to her.

“Oh, ‘ello dear! Well, aren’t you just the swee’est thing,” she hands the bag over to him. He sweeps it up into one arm, putting the other hand back in the pocket. June pats his arm, “Such a strong boy. So kind too. Don’t see much of that today! ’S nice to see it’s still out there.”

Hobie shrugs, “Least I can do considerin’ all your hard work.”

She laughs, “My hard work?”

“Hard to hide all the yarn y’have to make those sweaters. Or the food y’buy to-”

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” She swipes her bag at him but he only chuckles, “No need to yell it from the rooftops. I jus’ keep myself busy, that’s all.”

The two walk towards June’s home. On the way, she tells him all about what her plans are for those groceries, her book club and the book they're reading, her lovely grandchildren, things like that. Hobie listens all the while, occasionally piping up to answer a question or two.

It’s hard to miss her house. Small, homey, clearly built decades ago. What really makes it stand out, however, is its comparison to all the large apartment buildings surrounding it on all sides. Hobie always liked the look of her house more.

At the top of the creaky steps, June pulls out a big set of jangly keys and unlocks 3 locks. “Come in, come in!” She beckons him inside with a wave of her hand. He ducks under the doorway and follows after her.

He’s coaxed in by the scent of lavender and vanilla. Her house is covered in memories; faded photos on the wall, used books, vintage furniture, homemade nick nacks, either she made or gifts from her family. A few small plants sit next to picture frames on various tables.

He peers into her living room to the right and- yup- sees the mountain of yarn partially hidden behind her rocking chair. It could be excused as just the yarn collection every knitter has. But with how quickly she goes through it, that’s hard to defend. He smirks to himself.

“Where y’want this bag?” He calls out from the hallway.

“Just in the kitchen, dear!” She’s somewhere in the back of the house. He walks into the kitchen, filled with old appliances that have been repaired again and again, sometimes by himself. Hobie can’t help but check the fridge door he fixed up a month ago; yup, still opens evenly. Inside, there's a few cardboard boxes ready to be filled and donated. He closes it and puts the bag on the counter.

“Ok, here I am.” She joins him in the kitchen, her hands clasping around something. “I wanted to give you something for your help. Y’see, my grandson makes pins, very nice ones. He said this one should go to the Spider-Man if I ever met him but, well. He’s a busy man, I’m sure. Not like he’ll help an old lady carry some groceries home, hm?” She gives him a mirthful smile. 

Opening her hands, she reveals a pin about the size of her palm. The letters ‘F N S M’ are printed on it in comic lettering with different colored borders. She continues, “So, in case you see him any time soon, I’d like to give it to you.”

“I’ve heard Spider-Man’s a right prick. ‘M not sure he deserves somethin’ like tha’,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, but you do, honey.” His grin slowly fades, “Perhaps more than he does.”

Hobie… never really thought of that. Sure, Spider-Man does all sorts of good things to help people but Hobie Brown? Doing good just as himself? Doing enough good to get something in return?

“Doing small things to help others is just as important as saving the city, dear.” She pins the piece of tin to his vest, giving it a small pat. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that.”

He gives her a small but genuine smile this time. “Thank you, Miss June.”

She lightly smacks his arm, “How many times do I have to tell you to call me auntie?”

Hobie should have a little old lady who adores him

[lcveblossomed]

my canon: scott clarke's eulogy at bob newby's funeral

The final person to get up was Scott Clarke; he had originally promised to give the eulogy until they had changed to this setting. They had decided to have him speak last to round things out before they buried Bob’s ashes. He smiles as he looks at all of the people feeling his heart race as he nervously clears his throat. “I don’t know if all of you know this but Bob Newby has been my best friend since I was old enough to know what a friend is. The original plan was that I give one really long speech and tell you all about Bob’s life who he was as a person and how much we’re gonna miss him. It was kind of hard to consider. I mean how do I tell the story of a man who has had such an impact on your life- on everyone's lives? I mean for every story we just heard I‘m sure there’s 10 more you can’t remember or didn’t have time to tell we could’ve been here all day.”

It was true they could’ve done this all day and he appreciated it; he loved how good his friend was. “Anyways when I was trying to decide what stories to tell I had a lot to choose from. Bob Newby fought for the AV club to happen, stood by my side at the hardest points in my life, and laughed alongside me at the best ones. I could tell you about us naming constellations dreaming of exploring the galaxy or the countless times he helped me with AV club after I took it over. None of those moments would do him justice though because as much as he loved his job, his hobbies, and his friends he loved nothing more than his daughter.” He looks at Pepper his eyes starting to fill with tears and God it takes everything in him not to start crying. He smiles at her once before looking back at everyone. “I remember getting a call in the middle of the night one of the scariest things that can happen. I was shaking the sleep out of my eyes as I picked up the phone fearing for the worst when Bob answered he said he was at the hospital and he needed me. I don’t think I’ve ever left my house so fast and didn't listen to another word. I was rushing so bad I almost forgot to put on pants.” The people around him laugh and he smiles before reaching into his pocket and taking out a tissue he’d kept in his pocket. He knew he was going to cry; he couldn't help it.

“So I rushed to the hospital. I think it’s the fastest I’ve ever driven. I realize I don’t know where he is so I’m asking everyone looking around scared out of my wits thinking my best friend is dying somewhere in this hospital. Finally, a nurse calms me down enough to figure out why I’m there and she knows exactly where to take me. I go into this little room and he’s standing there with this little pink bundle in his arms. At this point in his life, Bob didn’t exactly know what he wanted to do or who he wanted to be and this baby that came out of nowhere probably would’ve seemed like a wrench in the plans but not to Bob. That baby that little bundle was suddenly his whole world he called me because he didn’t know what you were supposed to do, how you took care of a baby, or what he needed. I'm not sure why he thought I’d know more than he did on the subject.” Scott exhales slowly and smiles. Life was so unfair it was so awful to see this family broken apart like this. He’d give anything for things to be different; he misses his friend and he hates that they’ll all have to go the rest of their lives without Bob there. He takes that momentary pause to look over at the large photo of his friend.

“I got that helpful nurse that had calmed me down. It felt strange being the level-headed one for Bob and not the other way around but it was my job. The nurses helped get us everything we’d need until the stores opened in the morning. Bob was so jittery that I had to drive us all and we went back to my place. We just sat there on my rundown couch while I was trying to make a list of what babies need figuring out how we tell his parents and all of that. As I’m doing all of this I can feel him next to me just getting more calm and certain with himself. It was like everything was falling into place for him you could see the wheels turning into place. He blurted out that he was a dad. He was a dad and he said it a few more times. It went from shock to just calm, a proud statement he was a dad and he was going to be the best dad he could be. He looked at her like she was the whole universe there bundled up in his arms.” The room was filled with sniffles and he is near it himself and he knows he has to wrap this up before he really loses it. He looks back at Pepper and only at Pepper as the ending was just for her. “He was- he was the greatest father he could be. He was put here by God or the universe or whoever to be Pepper’s dad. She is the greatest thing he did with his life and he’s so proud of that he was always proud of that. So I know as much as I miss my best friend and everything he has done- that he is always going to be here. He’s in your smile, your tenacity, your brains, the love you give, and just every part of you. I know it’s not what you want what any of us want for you but I just want you to know that he is always going to be with you because you are all of him and more. I- thank you.”

[trifoliumrex]

Let's Burn Chapter 4

Master

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8

So Here’s the thing. You died. Like dead dead. But there’s good news. Turns out the multiverse is real and Suga and Jay are going to make sure it doesn't happen again. If Yoongi and Hobi don’t get in the way. Or Worse yet the troublesome Kim Namjoon. Can they keep you safe when you don’t even know who they are? Or will Namjoon finally get what he wants.

A reader x J-hope x Suga fic

But also reader x yoongi

But also Hobi, and Jay. the multiverse am I right?

Word Count: 5081

Here, later: 

    All of your pictures of Hobi take two boxes. Two boxes not shoved but gently placed under your bed. A set of treasures. You weren't together but you certainly didn't hate him. You would have left them out. You would have surrounded yourself with happy memories. You worry though at rubbing Yoo–Suga “Suga Suga Suga'' you correct yourself. You don't want to rub Suga’s face in the missing years that were stolen. 

    You place the last photo in the box and shut the lid. It feels like you are shutting part of yourself in their two. Like the past years have all been a dream. A good dream that ended poorly. Like a children's story that is released alongside its target audience and then grows dark and dark until its climax ends in blood. You place the box with great care back under your bed and head for the living room. You’ve rearranged but you are still worried that there won't be enough space. You look over the stack of papers. Home. He’s coming home. 

   It's been about three months since that asshole tried to throw you over the stairs. Two and a half since you last heard from Hobi, and two months since the case was dropped against Suga. Hobi had complained long enough that they had been given no choice, especially when the video had leaked. They had done a lot to contain it but the courts had granted you your order of protection without much question. 

   Once the order had been granted, Hobi stopped responding to you. It was fair. You had broken up with him after all. You had ended it. But despite all that he had still given you the apartment. He had still stayed on Suga's care and you suspect he was the one who was driving him to your place. A  service the hospital did not normally provide. You were informed that someone volunteered.  You had been to the hospital maybe three times a week and we're confident that you understood the next steps to help him do his physical therapy between appointments. The fridge was stocked with all the supplements you need and the new wheelchair ramp that you had to fight to get installed was up. You had nothing to be nervous about.

   Except 

   Except this was in so many ways the culmination of so many of your dreams as a child. The  dream is to be close to him and to be able to take care of each other. Except neither of you though are the same person you were. Except somewhere your Hobi is out there with another person in his head. A psychotic break? Multiple personalities? Possession? That last one gives you the chills. You hate that it feels the most right. You hear a car and hurry over to the door. You count to 100. 

   It's an old habit. When you tried to make it seem like you were calmer than you were. Like you weren't waiting for Yoongi to come home every day. He saw right threw it. Suga sees through it now as you rush out to greet him.  He can’t help but glower at you, just a bit as you offer to push him up the ramp.  “I’ve got it” 

    “Oh" a hateful little pause "alright” you say. He can hear the deflation in your voice and he wills the unhappiness off his face. Suga has been diligent with his therapy and  he’s strong enough for this. It takes longer than he would have liked and he’s a bit annoyed at the way you follow behind him. laboriously. counting your steps. Trying to stay just the right distance away. He sighs. You've always been careful but he hates it. Hates that here it's not like there. There it had been like breathing.

    “Can you open the door for me?” You face flushes and you rush to open the door. He wants to tell you it's ok. That you’ll get better at this. You both will. That he appreciates you dropping everything in your life to take care of him. If he's honest though he wishes it were different. He wishes you had put him in one of the care facilities that Hobi had told him about. Hobi. Fuck. He knew that Jay was under there. He had seen him as he crawled to the door to try and rip you away from Namjoon. When he couldn't even get a few steps away from the bed. Couldn't even crawl to you. Did you think it was your Hobi who knew how to unlock your handcuffs and free you? Still. It was Hobi who helped him into the bed. Hobi who seemed to have an endless amount of patience and Hobi who you had dated between Yoongi's death and Suga finding the empty husk of his body. It might be him who you wanted now. It would be so much better if he could hate him. The way he hated Jay. It was the way he felt about him when he had first seen Jay, when they had first met. 

   When for the first time ever you weren't the only consideration in his life. 

   Hobi was like that. Jay and Suga had. Never mind. Those aren't safe thoughts. Not after what he had done to you. “The place is nice,'' Suga says after wheeling into the living room. It was nicer than what you had done in their apartment. It was more you but he can see the evidence of Hobi. The industrial lamp here, the rug that is too well coordinated to fit your eclectic tastes. A virus in your life but Suga has to admit a symbiotic one. One that was infecting him too.

   “You like it?” You ask in a breathy tone. So hopeful. He suddenly wants to say no. It's not the apartment you should be in. It’s not the one you share with him. But here, it's the best you could have had. And now, here, he can make it like it was. He stands up. It takes effort and leaves him out of breath but he makes it over to the couch. 

   “It’s nice. Does he have money?” It comes out harsher than he would have liked. You flash a strained smile.

   “He made decent money and we had the passive income from your parents property”

   “Why didn't you stay there? It would have been free”

   “Our building was gone.” and he almost died there and his brother had. “I would have had to kick someone out. I stayed in an empty unit for a while but It was pretty far from the hospital”

    “How often did you visit me? Is that where you met him?” He looks at you very carefully and he eases onto the couch. You take the seat next to him. 

     “At first it was every day. By the end it was twice a week. I'm sorry I should have come more. It’s where I met him. Do you…want to know about that?” 

    “No…am I why you broke up?” He doesn't know what he wants the answer to be.

    “No. Do you want to know about that? He wouldn't hurt me” You say too fast. Like you're trying to convince yourself. Suga isn’t convinced. He crosses his arms. “He’s a good man Yoo– Suga. It doesn't matter anyway. He hasn't returned my calls in a while.” Suga forces the smile away from his lips. It's difficult but he manages.

    “I did my PT already. The whole day’s ours. Do they still have Survivor?” He knows they do. One of the few constants.

    “Oh…Suga. They sure do” You pull up the app the show streams on. You are delighted when he takes the remote and flicks through the seasons.  At his best estimate this timeline was maybe two years further then his. Had he wandered around for two years then? He remembered flashes of other places. Always too late to save you. Always just behind Jay. 

   Yoongi wouldn’t have known about streaming services at least not to this extent but he did, but this particular app he had never had the pleasure of viewing. He picks a random season and he leans against you. He wishes it could be like it was. You lean against him, his limbs wrapping around you with an unspoken promise of safety. This is nice, in its own way. It becomes your new routine. You wake up and help him do his PT and make his appointments come home and watch Survivor. Watching the contestants do a reverse journey from Suga. Going from fit to emaciated in the span of a season. Suga is already starting to look better.

     He hates PT. He can feel himself lashing out at you. Usually it's small enough. That you can walk it off or put that strained smile on. But lately it's been getting worse. He feels the venom he spews but can’t tame the beast. 

    He failed to meet the goals Hobi had set for him today and sitting on a bench outside he feels the storm brewing in his gut and in his stomach as he waits for you. Sometimes he can feel someone watching the apartment. He assumes he was being paranoid if it weren't for the way you sometimes looked over your shoulder. 

   Maybe it was just the escalation of that serial killer. The bodies piling up that had you on edge. Maybe every walk up the ramp where your keys trembled so slightly in your hands was just that. Maybe it was because you were with Suga and not Hobi.

    Hobi had kept you safe. Not like Him and not like Yoongi. Yoongi. That bastard who let your face get mutilated. Who left you all alone and in danger from the greatest threat possible. Was it for Hobi's sake that Jay kept his teeth from sinking into your flesh again? Or maybe this was just a long con. Maybe he knew how much Hobi's absence would hurt you. Either way Suga was pissed. He was always angry these days but today he seethes. 

   He needed to get better. Needed to be able to protect you and keep you safe. Today served as just a reminder of how far away from that he truly was. He needs to reach out to some of his old contacts. Needs to build an empire that can protect you. 

   “Suga?” you call again rushing over to him out of breath. You are late and have had to run part of the way to get to him in time. You hate being late to pick him up. To save money though you had started to take the bus there and today you had missed it after trying to do a little cleaning around the apartment. 

   He looks up at you, your flushed face the frantic way you are rushing over to him. He looks at his watch and scowls. You’re five minutes late and you’re freaking out. He makes you feel this way. Scared. He makes you feel scared. How could he not? Yoongi had burned them alive. Suga at least had had the intelligence to keep his crimes a secret. Keep you out of the mud he let himself be encrusted with. It had worked too. Until it hadn't. “You’re out of breath” 

   It comes out like an accusation and you pause. Counting to three in your head. Grumpy. He’s always grumpy around PT. He’s not mad at you, you remind yourself. You haven't done anything wrong. “I missed the bus”

   “Why didn't you take a car? '' The smile on your lips is so obviously forced this time that even you know it won't fool anyone. The money talk. How many fights had you had about that subject? You know you need to get a job. Suga knows you need to get a job. His money is running out and so is the life insurance your mother had left you. You can’t leave him like this. Not when a private nurse would just cost more than you would bring in. You had nightmares about him falling. 

    “I like the bus”

    “Bullshit.”

    “Well we can take a car back so it will work out just fine” 

    “You should just leave me to the state” he says bitterly. It's your turn to scowl. You both know there is no way you’d be able to do that. You were a fool for not having planned for this. For having wasted money and time you could have been making more money on studying. You couldn't even go back to your old job. Not with your face like this. 

   “You shouldn’t talk like that”

   “Just shut up. I hate when you rush to come get me like I'm a child. We aren't kids anymore! You need to take care of yourself!” 

   “I am!”

   “Look at yourself! You didn't even do your makeup” You inhale sharply and Suga cringes back into the bench. That wasn't what he meant. He knows how you feel about it. Know how much it bothers you. Your hand goes to your face trying to hide the long scar. He watches the tears well up in your eyes and you hastily try and wipe them away.

   He’s in pain.

   He’s in pain and he didn't mean it. 

   “That’s not” you hold your hands up in a stopping motion. 

   “The car is going to be over there. I'm going to take the bus home ok. Just…call me if you need me alright?” Yoongi grabs your arm and you both know it's not enough to hold you there. You stay where you are. 

   “I’m sorry. Look. Let me go home and do my shit alone today. I promise I’ll do them but… will you take the night off. I know… I know what I'm like” his voice trembles just a bit and he clears his throat “I know it's hard. I'm sorry”

   “It's not” not what? not his fault? Maybe, but to you he is Yoongi, he is that ass hole who did this to you. too both of you. He should have found this you sooner. This you who, who he can still help. If he only gets stronger.

   “It is” he grabs his wallet and hands you the rest  of the cash he has on him. It's a significant amount. More than the two of you can afford. “Look. pick us up for dinner and those things you put in the bath that makes it smell good. And the wine you like the pink stuff”

   “Y–suga you don't need to”

   “If I could walk as far as I wanted to, I'd get you flowers as big as your head and I don't know all that romantic shit you like.” he struggles to his feet and kisses the scar on your cheek. “You’re beautiful. You have always been beautiful. You are still beautiful” He sees the unbelief in your eyes. He wants to take more time. To assure you. Maybe to mend the hurt between you and for your relationship to grow into what it always was meant to be. He can’t not yet. Not until he can make this broken body capable of the one thing it should have been conditioned to be. To protect you. To finally keep you safe. He had lost count of your lifeless corpses. This time, he would make sure you live.

   “You’ll call me? If you need help? If you need anything” he gently wipes at the tears that still linger on your face. He nods slowly and deliberately.

    “Take a car”

    “That's to much. I'll take the bus. I'll see you tonight” He almost leans in for another kiss. Then he pulls back and gives your hand a squeeze. His eyes never leave your face. He needs you to go. It's an old trope he can’t help it. He hates to see you go but he does like to watch you leave. 

     You take a seat on the bus and you try to figure out what to do. Where to go with your freedom. No, don't think about it like that you tell yourself. What to do with your spare time. You check your phone for movie times. Maybe you could watch one. Really calm down. Maybe something really romantic where no one gets sick and no one gets hurt and the worst thing that happens to anyone is someone gets their heart broken. 

    You check your phone for the nearest movie theater. It's in a part of town you don't know well, you and Hobis' circle had always been fairly close to the hospital so those nights he was on call would be less horrible. It doesn't look that complicated to get there and it's only fifteen minutes away from the bus stop. 

   You buy your ticket online. The romcom in question has a dog on the cover so you quickly google does the dog die. You're not sure you can handle doggie death at the moment. It seems like the dog does not die. Good. even better you've wasted nearly the whole bus ride. You get off and look around. Ok maybe there was a reason you didn't come over here. It certainly looks more run down then the part you had started to grow accustomed to. Still it wasn’t as bad as where you grew up. The worst part was just all the closed buildings. It gave the place a deserted feel. Empty.

   You try not to draw any parallels. Try not to dwell on the empty spot in your life that Hobi has left. The one that you try not to hope Suga will fill. The one that you definitely do hope he fills. It's complicated. Wanting both, knowing neither are really good for you but also knowing that either of them would probably be the best you could ever have. 

   You felt lucky. Despite everything. Two great loves. How many people went through life with none and you had two. True Suga didn't touch you. He looked at your face and stopped and Hobi, shit. You shoot a prayer up to anyone who might be listening that Hobi gets the help he needs. That this is just a mental health crisis. That the sinister feeling you can’t shake is more than that. Does that make you a terrible person? A superstitious fool who would accuse a person suffering from schizophrenia of witchcraft? 

    Your hand drops to your stomach. Like the touch on the outside will sooth the storm that's brewing. It won't. You still have to try. Sometimes you think that's one of your better qualities. Today you do not feel quite the same way. You should be paying more attention. If you had perhaps you would have noticed faster. 

    You had clasped the phone. Your first instinct is to call Suga. The familiar surroundings bring you right back to your childhood. You hand hovers over the button. Then you think of how he has to struggle to his feet. The wince in his eyes. The pain in his face when he found you rotting in your room. Unable to take back the pain you had gone through. The fire. You can't. There is no way you can do that to him again. 

    Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck fuck fuck. The footsteps are getting closer. You don't want to turn around. You are suddenly sure that if you do it will be that serial killer who will take your eyes and your fingers. A second worse thought comes to your brain unbidden. What if it's that cop? That awful cop who threatened to throw you over the balcony. Your breathing is getting faster. You only have one other option. One other person who gives a shit whether you live or die.

    Or at least did. He had helped you with that cop. He lives in the area and if  his schedule is the same he dosen't work. You dial the number. What other choice do you have? 

   Jay stands up and grabs the phone. Your ringtone is special. Hobis favorite song. He doesn't respond to your texts. He’s trying, really trying to end this. Without your death. He shoves the man whose mouth he was just inside to the ground. “H…hello?” you whisper into the phone. Your tone has him immediately on edge. He starts pulling on clothes off the other man he hasn’t bothered to learn the name of who looks suspiciously like Suga, he doesn't care. He just needs something to put on “I didn’t know who else to call” you sound frightened. You sound terrified. When he says nothing you  let out a sniffle and your voice trembles even more. “I think someones following me” 

    Jay runs to his car. He doesn't even remember the dash there “Where are you?! Where the fuck are you” Namjoon. It's Namjoon and he's stalking you and he’s going to have to watch you die again. This time he’ll go right to Suga and have him kill him. Bring a gun so he can do it quickly so he can try again.

   He can’t not this time. Not this you. He thinks about the way you touched him. The way your lips had formed around the words I love you. He had forced you more than once to say those words but this time it was real. Hobi was real and 

    “I don't know. I turned down a street” you get out breathy and scared almost as scared as him.

    “Send me your location” he’s screaming it at you. You actually let out a sob and lower your hands to send him your location.  He hears a smack and your phone falls to the ground, a whimper coming from your lips. Someone picks up the phone. 

   “Who’s on the phone, pretty lady?” your voice is muffled but he thinks he can just hear you try to get up. You don't know how to answer. Jay hears another impact followed by a muffled yelp. 

    “The cops! They know where I am so just leave me a–” another impact. 

   “Who is this?” A voice that is clearly not Namjoon's. Jay lets out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think you're telling the truth bitch.” The phone goes dead. Jay wants to crush it but instead looks at the location. The same street Namjoon pulled you off of. He tries to remember what had Namjoon had done to you before taking you to that warehouse? To his warehouse. How many bruises was he able to count on your body over the grainy footage? He remembers the split lip. 

    He makes it to the nearest place he can make it in his car before heading off on foot. The sound of the whimper burning into his brain. It's not hard to find you. He just has to follow the sound of your crying. It couldn't be more cliche if it had shown up in a drama. Beautiful woman pressed up against the corner, begging for her attacker not to hurt her. This is the part the hero shows up. He can feel Hobi. Can feel him strain to get to you.

    Jay sees an opportunity. He can feel the hate for him leaking from Hobi. Jay knows though. Knows that this man won't kill you. He knows he should be staying away but how many nights have he spent pouring over your pictures? How fast would this drive you into his arms? Prove that a nose broken here or there as for your own good That you needed him. He could use this to get you and keep you. Not Hobi, him. He watches the man spin you around like you are a rag doll, take a good look at your face and laugh. The contents of your purse are already strewn about. He hears you frighteningly ask what he wants. Do you not know? What do men like this always want? He can hear when the man spits on you. 

   The moment you go quiet. 

   Just a little more and you would be too scared to leave your apartment. What could Suga do in this new weak body to keep you safe? He had failed even at his peak. Your hands weakly go to protect your head from another blow but it doesn't come. Instead there is ripping fabric and Jays leg bounces. Every cell in Hobis body screams at him. Put yourself in between them. Do something! HELP HER. He needs to keep you safe. Hobis mind can fathom being a shield for you. For both of you to end the day bruised if not broken. There is another impact when you try once more to resist the man. Your lip splits open. Jay has a better solution than a shield. He calmly grabs the man by his hair and slams him into the brick above your head. He watches your expressions. The relief followed by the fear and then the nausea as he slams the head into the wall again and again. He doesn't drop the man till he’s sure he's dead. Jay looks down at you, huddled against the wall. You’re splattered in blood and he has to admit. When it's not yours, he likes it. 

   You watch his face change and Hobi looks at the man in horror. It's only there for a moment before Jay pulls out his phone and starts making calls. Jay has been busy and he already has the contacts to clean this up. He touches your face as he dials his calls. Gently probing each injury. When he's done he lifts you up. 

   You haven't said anything. “Do you want me to take you home?” you shake your head in horror. Suga can’t see you like this. If this is what Hobi did, what would Suga do? What if he hurts himself again? Jay can’t help but smile just a bit but it quickly turns to a frown when his hand trails down to your neck. Is that a bruise? A fucking hand print?How had he let himself think even for a moment  that he should let it continue? He does what he needs to. He lets Hobi out. Hobi who wanted nothing more to help you. He needs to protect you. Both of you. He forces a false memory into Hobis’ stream of consciousness. Lets him believe the man is not dead, and that he’s called for help. That his oath to do no harm is still, mostly, intact. “Is he dead?” you ask in a still trembling voice.

    Hobi looks down at you like a man waking from a dream. He’s so confused and he looks at the man. He remembers calling for help. Remembers feeling his pulse but this is clearly a dead man at his feet. His mind struggles to merge the realities and it hurts. A quiet voice that almost sounds like his own soothes him. Tells him not to worry. To answer you. “No, he’s alive. I'm going to take you to my place ok?” 

  He stoops down to pick up your strewn about items from the ground. The wad of cash that he knows you don't have to just throw around, your id, your credit cards. Jay hadn't even considered it. The pieces of your life that anyone could pick up and use to take your life apart, a piece here, a part there. He loads you into his car, buckling you in and smoothing the seat belt. There’s a tremble in his hand. The voice in the back of his head tells him it's going to be ok. The voice is gentle. The way he only has ever been with you on occasion. All the good in him is summed up here. In this man, and he's tearing him apart.

   There’s no talking on the ride home. Just the sound of  the road and the quiet sound of you trying to stifle your tears. He pulls into his designated spot. “I'm going to therapy. I… I don't know how I did that but. He was hurting you.” You turn to look at him. You look so unsure, so lost. 

   “Are you getting help?” you ask in a tiny voice. He can hear the voice laugh. I am helping you, it whispers. He got out of the car to hide his unease. This is new. This talking is new. He opens your door and offers you his hand.

   “I am. I would never do what he did to you. I would never leave you like that” he whispers in your ears as he leads you up to his new apartment. He lets you set the pace. Let me lead. You hover at the threshold  “you don't have to go in” you don’t have to forgive me. You don't have to let me into your life again. You both hear it. 

    “I miss you Hobi. I miss you so much” You enter his apartment. 

   While you shower Hobi calls Suga. He explains what happened. The mugging. In vague terms. He promises to bring you back home tomorrow. 

    He does. 

    He doesn't really leave after that. 

    Not when both of you confess how hard it's been. How mean he gets when he’s in pain and how much he wants it not to be to you. The move in is slow. And it’s surprising to you how welcome he is. How much Suga likes him. Even when it becomes clear you are together. The lines though, it is funny how they start to blur. 

   How like a page exposed to water, with an ink drawing bleeds your lives start to bleed together. It seems to be better. Hobi seems to be himself. Suga watches though. Watches for the flashes of Jay. He knows he's there. Just under the surface. He waits for him, but he hopes that Hobi will win out. That Jay will disappear the way that Yoongi has. He even convinces himself he has. 

    Until he sees him. 

    He comes out at dinner when a waiter hits on you. This time he at least waits till you go to the bathroom. Jay grins at him. A wink, a sinister gaze that has Suga grip his dinner knife. He’s grateful. Despite it. Because when Jay threatens to kill the man, at least he can.

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8

[seokjinsonlyone]

build a bridge

pairing: yoongi x f! reader

summary: “God, sometimes I’m happy when you go off on me because at least then I know what you’re thinking.”

genre: co-parents to lovers; angst; fluff

rating: pg

warnings: brief mention of general/postpartum depression other than that it’s just the fact that yoongi’s a DAD!!!! CERTIFIED DILF!!!!!!

wc: 3.2k

You heard a muffled, “Guess who’s here?” then the sound of small footsteps pattering towards the door. After a few more seconds of shuffling it opened and your daughter all but flung herself on you. 

“Mama!” 

“Luna!” You opened your arms wide, expecting the tackle she always greets you with when you pick her up from her father’s. You pepper kisses all across her cheeks, heart melting at the way she giggles in your embrace. “Hey, baby. Did you have a good time with daddy?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around your neck, snuggling into you further.

“I missed you.”

She pulled back, lightly grasping your cheeks and pressing her own mildly slobbery kisses to your face. “I missed you.”

Before you could get overly emotional, her father cleared his throat reminding you two that you weren’t alone. You plastered a fake smile on your lips. “Hey Yoongi.”

He nodded back at you, lips pressed in a straight line.

“Do you have her stuff ready to go?”

“Uhhh… just about. Time got away from us a little bit. You want to step inside while I finish packing her up?” he asked, gesturing for you to come in.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips as you entered his house. You don’t understand why he couldn’t just have her things ready to go. Whenever it was his turn to pick her up, you always had everything ready and waiting for him. Your goodbyes may have been a little long and drawn out, but once he was able to pry you two apart it was quick and easy. “Luna, baby, why don’t you show me some of your toys while daddy gets the rest of your stuff?” you suggested, setting her down and letting her guide you into the living room.

Her eyes lit up at the request, light bulb going off in her little toddler brain, rushing to the corner to find whatever item your statement sparked. 

It was then that you noticed her outfit. You rolled your eyes at the shirt he donned your daughter in—bright pink, with sparkly gold lettering reading “Daddy’s Little Girl.” It was gaudy and definitely not something you bought for her, but she looked cute anyway. She always did. She had half of your DNA, why wouldn’t she? You shook it off. You know he only did things like that to get under your skin, as if he needed to put in any extra effort for that. 

Your eyes roamed around the room, inspecting the interior. A nice sleek, modern yet homey design only interrupted by the sight of dolls and cars spread over the floor. He had good taste. You paused looking over the mantle where he had a few photos displayed. Your eyebrows shot to your forehead, realizing that the one stationed in the very middle was of you and your daughter from when she was about two months old and just started smiling. Your lips were pressed to her cheek and she had a big, toothless baby grin that was nearly identical to your own spread across her face. You knew the photo well seeing as it’d been your lockscreen pretty much ever since he snapped it. 

Your inspection was cut short by your daughter calling out to you. “Look at my tabby, mama!”

“Huh?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. Your daughter’s speech was pretty good. And what she lacked in vocabulary and pronunciation you usually made up for on account of you being fluent in Luna, but you’d never heard her speak of a ‘tabby’ before. All confusion was cleared up, however, when you turned around and saw the tablet in her hands. You were already irritated, but now you were pissed.

“My tabby.”

“Oh wow,” you said, feigning enthusiasm. “When’d you get this?”

“Daddy got it for me,” she replied. That didn’t really answer the question, but you didn’t think she would. As a three year old, her concept of time was all but nonexistent. He must’ve just gotten it for her, though or you would’ve heard about it long ago. One thing your child did was talk. She began flipping through the apps, showing you each one, and you wanted to give her your full attention. You really did, but inside you were seething.

Yoongi came out holding both of her bags just in time to feel your wrath. You stood abruptly cutting Luna off. “Really, Yoongi? A tablet?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You know I didn’t want her having one of these. Not at this age.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” you snapped back. “You know what? Never mind,” You snatched her bags from his hand ready to just leave. You could feel yourself getting worked up by the second and you did not want to traumatize your child by having her watch her parents argue in front of her. “Come on, Luna. Put that down, it's time to go.”

“I bring my tabby with me.”

You stooped down to her level. “No. You’re leaving it here. Go put it back. It’s time to go home.”

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes as hers filled with tears and soon after she burst into sobs. You counted to five in your head, willing yourself to exercise the last bit of patience you had. “Miss Luna,” you said sternly, forcing her attention to you. “We’ve talked about this. Babies cry because they don’t know how to talk. But, you know how to talk. Are you a baby or a big girl?”

“A- a big girl,” she sniffled, sobs dying down a bit.

“Okay. So you need to calm down. Come on. Take some deep breaths with me. In,” you inhaled deeply, “and out,” you exhaled. You did it a few more times, Luna following suit until she was calm again. You wiped the tears from under her eyes. “Now talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I want my tabby,” she pouted, looking like she was about to get teary again.

“You know that you have some toys that stay at mama’s house and some toys that stay at daddy’s house. The tablet stays at daddy’s house. You can’t bring it with you.”

“It’s fine. Just let her take it,” Yoongi piped up.

You turned to him with fire in your eyes. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” He sighed, slumping his way to the area, while you brought your attention back to your child. “Luna. Go put your dolls and your cars back where they belong, then you can play with the tablet until mama finishes talking to daddy, okay?”

She nodded, happy to have reached some sort of middle ground, and did as you said, and you all but stomped into the kitchen. “I hate it when you do that,” you fired immediately. 

He rubbed his hand down his face, looking like he was already over it. “What did I do now?”

“Yoongi,” you stressed, “I’m sitting over here telling her that she can’t bring it with her, and then you telling her that she can. How does that make me look? Who is she supposed to decide who to listen to? What are you gonna do when she doesn’t listen to either one of us? Stop undermining my authority.”

“I’m not trying to undermine your authority, but you’re making a big deal out of nothing. I don’t see why you’re so against the tablet in the first place.”

“She’s only three, Yoongi! What does she need to be on the internet for? There is so much out there that she absolutely does not need to be exposed to. And on top of that she doesn’t need the constant stimulation. You know she already has a predisposition to ADHD. Do you even monitor her when she’s using it?”

“She’s only three, __! Of course I monitor her. And for the record. I hate when you do that.”

“Me?” You pointed back at yourself, raising your eyebrows incredulously. “What did I do?”

He leaned back against the cabinets and ran his hand through his hair, trying to maintain his calm exterior but you’ve obviously ticked him off. “You bottle everything up! I know that in your head Luna is just your daughter, but I’m sorry she’s not! She’s mine, too. I’ve mentioned getting her one of those things several times, and the only thing you’ve ever said was ‘I don’t think that’s a great idea,’ and then you would switch subjects. I respect you as her mother, but I’m not just going to blindly accept everything you say. How was I supposed to know you felt this way about it if you never told me? I can’t read your mind, __. And, you always do this. God, sometimes I’m happy when you go off on me because at least then I know what you’re thinking.”

The anger dissipated from your body with every sentence he spoke and by the time he finished speaking, your lips began to wobble. Yoongi watched as your eyes slowly filled with tears and the only thing he could think of before they broke loose was how eerily similar to your daughter you looked. The same expression having crossed her face not ten minutes ago. He sighed, pulling you into his chest much in the same manner that he would do her as well. 

You allowed yourself the comfort of his touch for all of thirty seconds before stepping back and wiping at your eyes, ridding them of the few tears that slipped out. You turned around peeking past the wall, making sure your daughter was still occupied. She was. Dolls successfully put away as you told her, while she sat tapping away on the tablet.

Unfortunately there weren’t many other things you could do to stall for time. You had no other option but to turn around and face the truth. “You’re right,” you conceded, ripping the band aid off. You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want to argue with him, but you were just so passionate about anything concerning your daughter that you let your emotions get the best of you more often than not.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, and I’m not just trying to win an argument, you know?”

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, even though you didn’t know, not really.

“Can we sit?”

You nodded again, taking the seat adjacent to him.

“___, you know I don’t do things to intentionally piss you off, right?”

“Except when you put her in shirts that say ‘Daddy’s Little Girl,’” you pointed out, trying to lighten the mood. You hadn’t had a heart to heart with him in god knows how long. Hadn’t been in this proximity to him in even longer.

He rolled his eyes in return. “Well, yeah. That’s like the one thing. I like the way your eye twitches whenever you notice it.”

You breathed out a laugh. “My eye does not twitch.”

“It does. Your eye twitches, you stare for like two minutes, then give me one of those exasperated sighs. But, that’s not what we’re talking about. I’m being serious.”

“Look,” you exhaled shakily, “I’m sorry for snapping at you and for not communicating effectively. I–“

“I already told you I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I just– I really hate the way our relationship is now. When Luna was first born, we agreed that we would do this together. Now I feel like I can’t even talk to you anymore. The only reason I even got her the thing was because I felt bad for her.”

“Why?”

“She was, like, inconsolable a couple days ago because she wanted you so bad. Poor thing cried herself to sleep and everything. The next day she was still sad, so I took her to the store, and we picked it out. That was the only thing that got her to stop crying over you.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came and gotten her.”

“I didn’t want my time cut short, and I didn’t want you to think that I couldn’t handle her,” he admitted softly. “I want you to trust me with her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Yoongi,” you called with your stern voice and waited until he made eye contact with you. “You’re her father. Of course I trust you with her. If I didn’t, I would’ve taken you to court and you’d be seeing her every other weekend at best. I know I can be overbearing, but it’s only because I’m scared,” you replied, slipping out a confession of your own. 

He reached out, covering your hand with his own. “Scared of what?”

“Everything? I’ve spent the last three years terrified. She’s my whole world. I don’t know what I would do without her. I wish you would’ve called me when she was throwing her tantrum because all I do when she’s away from me is worry and wonder and wait until I can see her again.”

He tutted. “See. This is what I mean. Luna wanted you. You wanted her. I wanted to call you, but I didn’t. Because of what?”

“Because of me.” You felt yourself getting worked up again, tear ducts beginning to well up. “You said it yourself. I bottle everything up. I push people away. I pushed you away, and we were supposed to be in this together. All I want for our daughter is for her to have the best life possible, yet I’m the one ruining it.”

“Hey, now. Cut the crap,” he deadpanned, cutting your spiral session short and scooting closer to you. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re the best mother that–“

“Mama?” you hear a little voice call, followed by small footsteps pitter pattering, and a few seconds later your daughter came rounding around the corner.

You quickly swiped at your eyes. “Yeah, baby?”

She handed her tablet to Yoongi, before turning back to you, lifting her hands up so you could hold her. She gripped your face in her little hands. “You sad?”

“Yeah, mommy’s a little sad,” you answered honestly. You always tried to treat her like a human. You wanted her to know it was okay to show emotions, and that you were human just like everyone else. You weren’t a superhero, just someone who loved her very very much. 

She pressed big, sloppy kisses on each of your cheeks then laid her head down on you, putting you in a position very similar to when you first entered the door, except then you wanted nothing more than to leave and now you found your brain cycling through reasons you should stay. “Feel better now?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you very much.”

At your confirmation, she wriggled out of your lap and into Yoongi’s reclaiming the device and continuing her game. Your heart melted as you looked at them, really looked at them together for the first time in a while. She really was a good mixture of you both. Your face shape and lips, curl pattern at least a standard deviation looser than your own but flowing wild and free nonetheless, his cute button nose and crescent shaped eyes. She was absolutely adorable, they were adorable together. You sighed heavily, suddenly nostalgic over all the time you missed together. “I’m sorry. It really is all my fault.”

“I told you to cut it out,” he said seriously, eyes focused on whatever your daughter was doing.

“No, really, Yoongi. I wasn’t okay for a long time after she was born.” He grimaced, likely remembering the time period after your daughter was born. Postpartum depression transitioned into general depression and for a while you found yourself just floating through life, unable to find a balance between being a human and being a mother. It was rough. He tried to help you so many times but more often than not he just bore the brunt of your emotional instability. “By the time I finally got some help, there was so much time and space between us. I just… I had to go.”

He squeezed Luna a little tighter. “I wished you didn’t. I hope you know that.”

You bit your lip. “I do. You tried to get me to stay, but my mind was already made up.” You weren’t quite sure if it was the right decision, but you know that you definitely feel more stable now than you did then. Although today had been proving that your road to recovery had not been fully traveled. 

“What about now?”

“What do you mean?”

He locked his eyes on yours. “Is your mind still made up? Because I love you.” Your breath hitched. “I’ve loved you for a really long time, and I think my biggest regret out of everything was not telling you that sooner.”

“Yoongi I-I…” You were at a complete loss for words.

“I know there’s a ton of time and space between us, but I’ll build a bridge and we can walk across it together.”

You wished Luna was in your arms at that moment. She was your excuse, your scapegoat. Whenever you felt uncomfortable or vulnerable you’d just hug her to you and give her all your attention until whatever it was went away. You suppose it’s a good thing she’s not seeing as it was that mentality that got you here in the first place. You had to stand on your own two feet now. Easier said than done. Your mouth opened and closed a few more times, still no words being formed. 

“Baby, go play in your room for a bit,” Yoongi told your daughter, then placed her on the ground, keeping hold of the tablet. She reached for it, but he held it at bay.

“Daddy,” she whined.

“Nuh-uh. I think we’ve had enough playtime on this today. Room. Now.”

He ticked his head to the side and she stomped away, rolling her little eyes, which would be a topic of discussion sooner rather than later. For now though, you focused on trying to process the fact that Yoongi was in love with you.

“C’mere.”

You stood wide-eyed and allowed him to pull you into his lap. You were stock still as he wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed his face into your neck simply breathing you in. “Yoongi…”

“Shhh… Just let me hold you for a little.” And he did. Until you completely relaxed into his embrace. It was a lot. It’d been nearly two years since you were this intimate with him and anybody else for that matter. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want to take more than you’re willing to give.”

You sighed. “You’re a good man, Yoongi. A great father. I care about you, but you deserve more than I have to offer.”

“I don’t want any more than that. The only thing I want is a chance. Let me be there for you. Not just because you’re the mother of my daughter but because you’re you, and I love you.” You inhaled sharply at his admission once again. He smiled into your neck. “Will you let me be there for you? Can you do that?”

It was nerve wracking to open your heart up again, but honestly you weren’t sure if you ever took it back from him in the first place; so, you shakily brought your hands up to cover his that were around your waist, interlocking your fingers together. “I can do that.”