#i miss this photo set-up but i don’t miss the old apartment lived in here
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boyobjectifier · 1 year ago
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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
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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 months ago
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Chosen Appa | Wooyoung
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- 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
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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. 
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©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy, modify and/or repost anywhere.
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lesbiankimdahyun · 7 months ago
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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
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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?”
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gloomyluvr · 1 year ago
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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. 
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lisbeth-kk · 8 months ago
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May Prompts (26) Manipulate
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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 · 6 months ago
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Breaking Free: Chapter 5- Falling Into You
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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!
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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.
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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 6 coming soon stay tuned! Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕
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howlsofbloodhounds · 6 months ago
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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?
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littlebitsmile · 1 year ago
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in flames [C.L.] | Chapter III
Welcome back! This took me a bit longer than usual, but it's still Sunday, so I'm glad you decided to join me (: Hope you all had a nice first week of 2024 - only 55 more days until we see our munchkins driving in circles again - hope this makes the wait a bit shorter.
As always, have fun (:
story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.
────ʚ C H A P T E R III ɞ────
Music booms from the headphones in my ear, my feet float over the treadmill, drops of sweat run down the sides of my face. Next to me, all I can hear is Max's heavy breathing and the occasional quiet "f*ck" as another intensive interval approaches. My calves gave up the ghost ten minutes ago and have been cramping ever since, but my pride won't let me stop.
I actually wanted to squeeze in an extra training session this morning before Max woke up and wanted to hang out and do some off-season stuff, but unfortunately, he was already at the coffee machine when I decided to roll out of bed. He then followed me into the fitness room of his apartment without any comment.
He has been kind enough to let me stay with him, Kelly, and Penelope for a few years now so that I can avoid living with our parents and even worse, letting them decide what happens next with my accommodation situation. As the eldest son, he has probably had his experiences and learned his lessons, always being the one to take the blows, and although he always pretends to give me a hard time, I'm sure that deep down he doesn't want me to go through the same hell he did. The fact that I can never come close to his golden boy in our father's eyes anyway is a different story.
I breathe heavily but try to concentrate on the view. Monaco's harbor landscape is one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced. A little too much lifestyle of the rich and famous for my liking, but Max loved it here right from the start, when we first visited a few years ago. Maybe because he can live right next to the racetrack, waking up every morning and sipping his breakfast coffee with his brain already imagining those cars on the streets right in front of him.
"You're quiet," he presses out between his lips at some point. I don't look at him but concentrate on a small yacht that is about to leave the outer jetties. He gets a kick out of seeing me suffer, I’m sure of it. If I don’t let myself get distracted by the pain in my legs, I can do a few more minutes on this torture device.
"I'm dying," I reply, trying not to fall down at the same time. My diaphragm starts to painfully remind me that I'm not my 26-year-old racing brother, who has been doing this for years and years, never losing sight of his goals, exceeding his limits.
He reduces the speed on his treadmill and starts to jog slowly before continuing: "When are you flying to England? For simulator runs and so on?"
I'm still running at the same pace as before. I try to show February 15 with my hands, holding all of my ten fingers up, then five and the peace sign as a two, but I'm not sure if he immediately understands what I mean.
In the time between the end of the season and the first pre-season tests, the world stands still in my head. I enjoy visiting friends for once and not feeling bad when I see photos in our group chats of everyone getting together and me missing. Max, on the other hand, never leaves his zone - his racing set up in his study glows for hours every day. When he's not training, eating, or sleeping, he lives and breathes motorsport, whether it’s on or off track. Maybe that's why he's such an exceptional talent. Or maybe he is just stupid, for not living his life during his prime time and will fall into a pit of self-despair when he’s 40.
"Excited?" he interrupts my thoughts. I can’t remember what we were talking about, and he notices. “For the UK, I mean? Rain and cloudy weather?”
I nod. My lungs are burning, and I don't know who exactly I'm trying to prove something to. I keep running, my thighs are starting to burn like hell. A few of my fingertips go numb, and my head starts to feel dizzy. There are a few black dots here and there, but it isn’t the first time something like this happens and it won’t be the last.
"What number are you going to start with?" Max asks. I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to give too much away about whether I'll keep my number from Formula 2 or change it. Mostly because I haven’t thought about it and I would love to have a number with a deeper meaning.
"You could take 69."
When he says this, I almost stumble on the treadmill. I hold on left and right and hop onto the side edges as the mechanical noise belt continues to run beneath me. Although everything inside me hurts like hell after the last hour and a half of running, I must laugh out loud. Max grins sheepishly at me. Sometimes I am not sure who of us is the older sibling.
"I think that would be more your thing, don't you?" Out of breath, I put my hands on my hips and lean my upper body against the treadmill display. I try to calm my heartbeat, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.
"I've already got the 1; that's enough for me..."
“You won’t have it forever, though," I interrupt him before he falls into another monologue of self-congratulation. I wiggle my eyebrows and grin mischievously at him. Then I stick my tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before hitting me on the shoulder with his fist.
"The only one I'm afraid of is you,” he admits openly. I look at him in disbelief. Where has this recognition suddenly come from? I almost choke on the sip of water I’m taking. “But you're in the wrong car anyway, so at least I don't have much to fear this season.”
"I don't need your false assumptions, Max. We've never lied to each other." I look into the distance, back to the harbor. I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't the person I am.
"I'm not lying, I promise. I'm more afraid that this team will take you down with them."
"Aston Martin won't drag me into the abyss. They're giving me a fair chance."
"You would have had a fair chance with me and Red Bull."
"Fair, Max? Really? As number two? How well did that turn out with the last team partners? Lewis and Nico? Lewis and Valtteri? You and pretty much everyone who came after Sebastian? The only off-track friends who were in the same team and still get on well are Carlos and Lando. I don't want that for us." Now I turn to him. A furrow forms between his eyebrows, and he looks down at the ground. He knows I am right, and I think that causes him greater pain than what I just said about us not being able to be proper teammates.
"If you don't perform at Aston Martin, if you even get the chance to show what you are capable of in that sh*tbox of a car, then no other team will take you. There is only one chance to be part of this grid, and I just can’t believe you would rather not drive at all than have me as your team partner?" He is frustrated, I can feel it in his voice. So I try to soften my voice and understand him from his point of view.
"Max, I love you; I really do. You're the coolest brother in the world, and I'm not saying that because I get to live in your cool penthouse in the middle of Monaco.” There is a chuckle, and I know he wants to reassure me that he loves to have me here with him. But before he can speak another word, I continue. “But I've been compared to you my whole life and I will continue to be. This hasn’t been easy, for any of us. But for a change, I can decide for myself whether to confront it or if I just leave my phone off and not read the news, because no one in my own team will compare me to you." The conversation has taken on a serious tone, but I know he understands what I mean.
"I get it. I still would have liked you to be the wing woman. Pretty sure we’d be great. With you keeping all those madmen away from me." He winks. Then he looks straight ahead towards the panoramic window. It's quiet between us for a while.
I think back to his first victory with Red Bull. How he threw himself into the arms of his team afterward, so proud and so full of emotion, as if someone was finally accepting him for who he is, no ifs, ands, or buts. He doesn't talk much about his relationship with Christian Horner, but I'm 90% sure that Christian is in many ways the father figure for Max that our father could never be for him. How he has grown with this team and gone from a really misunderstood driver to a three-time world champion. He wouldn't leave Red Bull until they cut him out from inside with a digger and chainsaw and shipped him to the other side of the world. He lives, breathes, and burns for this sport and for the people in his immediate surroundings, a quality that I greatly admire in him and that not everyone is able to appreciate.
"If you could be someone else or do something else, what would it be?" The question catches him off guard. He is confused for a moment, then looks thoughtful and shakes his head.
"I don't think I want to be – can be - anywhere else. This is where I belong."
I believe him. But suddenly I'm not so sure if my answer would be the same.
As the plane lands in London, I grab my backpack, put on my cap, and hide my face a little better. I'm almost certain that some paparazzi is waiting for me in the arrivals hall because I seem to be the only one from the F1 paddock not traveling by a private jet. I wonder why.
I quickly get through security and baggage claim, so it feels like no more than 30 minutes before I step through the airport doors and out into rainy UK weather. To my right, an elderly gentleman with a sign saying "Emma V." walks towards me and takes my luggage. I thank him, get in the car, and then we make our way to the Aston Martin headquarters. I fall asleep unplanned and only wake up when we arrive.
I am overwhelmed by the polished floors, the glass structures of the building, how everything looks as if this is not the headquarters of a Formula 1 team but of Iron Man and the Avengers.
Mike Krack, the team principal, comes to meet me, shakes my hand, and welcomes me to the hallowed halls. I'm then given a tour, starting with the departments I'm least interested in, such as budget and logistics. I know these people are as important as anyone else, but I am a driver, so the technical departments will be my home base.
"But you're certainly not here to look at the view. You want to go to the simulators, right?" Mike states correctly at some point. I nod vigorously. "Then that's our next destination."
And no matter what I was expecting, it wasn’t that. As I step into a room with a screen as big as the panoramic view back at Max’s apartment, I immediately want to leap into the seat in front of it. I wait for a nod of approval from Mike before I hop into it and feel the leather beneath my hands and notice the smell of something new. I shriek. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. And before someone can stop me, I’m already turning the machine on and getting ready to drive my first laps in the simulator.
────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter II] [Chapter IV] ɞ────
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fangirlera-part2 · 8 months ago
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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
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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.
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whisperingwillowxox · 2 years ago
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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
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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!’
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btsgotjams27 · 2 years ago
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this is us ~ jjk | drabble (jk pov)
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a small glimpse of life in LA
✨ title: this is us | (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, best friend's younger brother ✨ playlist | AO3 & Wattpad ✨ a/n: if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n 2: hi friends! here's a short short drabble from jk's pov. we get the smallest glimpse of his new life in LA and an old friend shows up too. there will be another jk pov at the one year later mark, so we will get to see more of him (:
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[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ✨ 16 ~ so maybe you're not okay
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drabble ~ it'll be okay (jk pov) | wc: 895 warnings: smol, not so smol erection
~ Two months after the breakup ~
“I’m starving. What should we get for dinner tonight?” Jimin asked as he set down the box on the kitchen counter. But Jungkook didn’t answer; he seemed to be staring off into space. “Earth to Jungkook!”
The doe-eyed man hummed, still staring at the LA city skyline outside his apartment. “I’m up for whatever. You can pick.”
Jimin walked over to his good friend and rubbed his shoulder. “Hey—you okay? You’ve been pretty quiet all day.”
Jungkook clears his throat. “Yeah, ‘m fine,” he sniffles before speaking again, “Thanks for letting me stay with you while I figured things out.”
“Of course, man—I’m always happy to host.”
“And, sorry if I invaded your and your girlfriend’s space.”
“Don’t even sweat it. Lana understands. I’m just glad we were able to help you out.”
Jungkook left on a whim, uncertain of what he was doing or if he had made the right choice to leave. He just knew he needed to be away from you, everyone, and everything—clear his mind and start over.
Jimin was a life-saver, letting him crash and figure things out, and not once did Jimin try to force a conversation about you, even though he knew his friend was hurting. He knew it’d take time for Jungkook to come around and talk about you on his terms.
“How about ramen? Or sushi?”
Either option sounded great, but Jungkook didn’t want to take up more of his friend’s time and space than he already had. “Why don’t you take Lana out on a date? I think I’ll get Doordash or something.”
“What? Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“Yeah—you’ve helped me so much, and I’ll probably just eat here, unpack, and get settled in.”
Jimin wavers in his reply, wanting to refute Jungkook’s proposal, but ultimately caves in because he does miss spending alone time with Lana. “Well, just call me if you need anything, and we’re not that far away.”
Jungkook turned to his friend and thanked him before sending him on his way, but Jimin turned back to his friend. “Hey, Jungkook.” He hummed and raised his eyebrows. “It’ll be okay.” Jungkook gives a thin smile before closing the door.
When he returns to the living room, he scans it, searching for a box labeled ‘miscellaneous.’ He took a few steps, peering over random things to find it hidden behind his desk monitor. He picks up the box and makes his way to the bedroom. The bedframe hadn’t been assembled yet, so he sat on the mattress on the floor.
Unwrapping the tape from the box, he fished out a few photo frames and random collectibles before reaching for the one thing he wanted from the box.
Pulling out the fabric-covered album, his nails lightly dragged across the front cover to the corner, opening the photo album. When packing his place back in Seoul, he contemplated returning it to you. He wondered if it would’ve been weird to have kept such risque photos of his ex-girlfriend. What would be the point?
But he couldn’t let it go so easily.
Though he loved every single photo in this album, there was one he flipped too often. The golden hues from the light captured you so beautifully, laying on the bed, head nestled in your folded arms as you stared directly into the camera and covered in a white bedsheet.
It didn’t take much to get him going. The growing bulge in his sweats indicates how much of an effect you still had on him. Two months later, he was still hung up on you. He didn’t want to get over you, still wanted you, and longed for you, but he knew it wasn’t feasible to keep living like this. He left Seoul hoping to move on, to become a new person—a better person, though it was harder said than done. He couldn’t help but return to the things that comforted him, the things that felt like home—you.
His hand traveled down to adjust himself. It would be easy to christen the new place and rub one out right here, right now, but he had been doing that too often and felt ashamed for even thinking about you in this way when you weren’t together anymore. Maybe he should’ve returned the photo album, or maybe he could burn it, get rid of it, and start a new chapter in his life. How long would he keep holding on? And honestly, holding onto what?
He flipped it closed, stuffing it back in the box. Two months in and he was still in the same place he was when he arrived in LA. He wondered if it was the same for you. Were you still hurting? Or did you move on to someone else already? Could it be that guy he had seen you with the night he decided to leave? An endless sea of questions that would never be answered.
But he didn’t want to wallow anymore. If he wanted to become a better person, he needed to put in the work and finally let you go.
Let go of the reveries of a future never to become a reality and of what used to be—you and him.
It was time for him to step away from all he knew and discover who he was without you.
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✨ next ~ 16 ~ so maybe you're not okay
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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year ago
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The Type You Save ~ S I X
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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
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Divider by @firefly-graphics
Previous : F I V E
Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist
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“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.  
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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.”  
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“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.”  
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NEXT
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fullcry · 2 years ago
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@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.
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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago
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All's Fair - Chapter 5
Emily and Aaron have loved each other since they were children. War might be the thing that finally brings them together, but it could also be the thing that tears them apart forever.
A Hotchniss AU, set in 1917 and beyond.
-x-
Thank you so much for the love for this fic. It means so much more than I can put into words!!
Please let me know what you think of this chapter <3
Special shout out to @cloudlessly-light who, when I said I thought this chapter was going to get away from me, was able to correctly guess how many words it was going to be haha
-x-
Words: 6.5k
A list of warnings and tags can be found on the Series Master List
Read over on Ao3, or below the cut
Emily, 
I love you. I can’t think of a better way to say after the telegram I just received. I love you, and Mae, so much.
I’m so proud of you, and so relieved you’re ok. If what I’ve felt worrying about you is only a fraction of how you have felt since I left then I think I’ll be apologising for the rest of our lives. 
I wish I could be there, I wish I could meet her and hold you both. I only hope that one day, if we’re lucky enough, I can be there with you every step of the way. 
All my love,
Aaron 
___
Aaron, 
I know Mother had Rossi send you a telegram, but I also wanted to write. Mae is right next to me, fast asleep as if she’s the one who’s had a tiring day!! Although I suppose being born isn’t easy. 
She looks so much like you. I know she’s only a few hours old, and babies don’t really look like anyone, but all I can think about when I look at her is you. 
I do think she’ll end up cursed with my nose though. 
I wish you were here. You not being here is familiar to me now, and missing you has become part of my daily life, but I haven’t felt it this sharply in quite some time. 
I need you to see her. So that, if the worst ever happens, I can tell her that you met. 
Stay safe.
All our love,
Emily and Mae
___
Aaron, 
I just received your letter, and I imagine you just got mine. Maybe one day letters will be instant or at least take less time to arrive. 
Mae is 4 weeks old now. She’s grown so much already. She only really sleeps if she’s in my arms. She eats constantly, or at least it feels that way. Mother says I spoil her, but I don’t see how it’s possible to love someone too much.
She knows I hate that you can’t see Mae, so Mother organised for a photographer to come to the house. It was nice of her, but of course, in typical Elizabeth fashion, she did manage to comment on the outfit I chose for myself (my old clothes feel like they’ll never fit again!) and for Mae.
I’ve put a photo of the two of us in this letter. I hope it helps remind you of what you have waiting here.
All our Love,
Emily and Mae 
___
April 1918
“I don’t understand why I have to go.” 
Elizabeth sighs, watching her daughter as she paces back and forth with her own daughter in her arms. 
“Because it’s the start of the social season, Emily. Surely you remember what that means.” 
Emily smiles politely, her eyes fixed on Mae in her arms, the three-month-old refusing to settle for her nap. Her stubborn streak was obvious already, something she had inherited from both of her parents.
“What I remember is you hiding me away last year so I didn’t embarrass you any more than I already had.” 
“Because you’d just eloped, even though your engagement to another man was meant to be announced just a few weeks later.” 
Emily sighs, clenching her teeth tightly to stop herself from responding, not wanting to start an argument. 
It was hard to believe it had been a year since she and Aaron got married. Life looked so different now, and sometimes it felt like Mae was the only proof it had ever happened. If she didn’t exist, tangible evidence of their love for each other, Emily was sure their night together would feel like a dream. The memory of his touch was just out of reach. She longed to remember how it felt to simply hold his hand. 
It had been a little too long since she’d heard from him. Panic tingling through her veins in a way she desperately tries to ignore whenever she thinks about it. She’d re-read the letters she already had from him more times than she could count. The paper worn thin on the first couple, almost torn at the edges from where she had unfolded and refolded them so many times. She knew them by heart. His words now, the things they’d barely had the chance to say to each other's faces, were as familiar to her as he was. 
There were days when she felt as fragile as the paper that held their story. Easily fryable, tearing apart at the edges in a way she should have known only Aaron was capable of doing to her. On other days she felt strong, made of steel as she forged her way forward for her and her daughter, determined to make a good life for her little girl, even if she never got to have her father as part of it. 
Every day that passed without a letter, a gentle shake of Dave’s head as he brought her mother the mail in the morning, she feels herself get more anxious. More familiar with the thought that maybe he’d never make it back at all. 
Emily clears her throat, trying to rid herself of all the things she knew she couldn’t afford to feel. 
“And what about Mae, who’s going to look after her whilst I’m downstairs at a party?” 
“Well since you refused to hire a nanny,” Elizabeth says, her raised eyebrow the closest she’d come to expressing her feelings on the matter, “I spoke to JJ, and she agreed to sit in here with her whilst you are downstairs.” 
Emily looks down at Mae, smiling softly when she sees the baby is now fast asleep. JJ was one of the only people she’d trust her daughter with completely, and Elizabeth knew that. 
“Ok,” Emily says, looking up at her mother, “I’ll go.”
___
Emily remembered clearly the first time she’d had to go to one of these events. Her mother had finally deemed her old enough to go, no longer worried that she’d be too young, or cause embarrassment. It was the first time she’d felt like she was on display. 
She was eleven.
She had been introduced to people she now saw frequently, members of her mother’s inner circle that had never done anything other than make her feel trapped. She’d spent the whole night wishing she’d been allowed to run around the estate with Aaron and Sean like she used to be able to, staying out until long after the sun had disappeared over the horizon, coming home with grass stains on her clothes that her mother hated. 
She finds herself missing Aaron now for completely different reasons. He’d never been to one of her mother’s parties, and part of her wanted to bring him to one. To stand in the corner with him and watch him watch this, a part of her life he’d never fully understood because he was always standing on the edge of it, watching from outside. 
She knows if he makes it back, he’d be part of it now. Standing by her side as her husband, the support she’d always needed but had never been sure how to ask for. 
She stands at the edge of the party, her back practically against the wall as she nurses a small glass of wine. It felt wrong, watching everyone dance and laugh as if there wasn’t a war raging on elsewhere. She knew she wasn’t the only person who had someone out there. A lot of the men she’d grown up with were in France too, their parents in the room with her, a tightness in their expressions that she could relate to. 
It felt like she was being watched. An item of curiosity that she hadn’t felt like the very first time when she was a young girl. People would smile politely at her before turning away, clearly talking about her choices. The husband no one had ever met. The baby who was sleeping soundly upstairs. 
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Emily Prentiss.” 
She looks up, the accent immediately making her tense. She locks eyes with the man she should have married, the one her mother still made comments about as if she didn’t know exactly what he was like. 
“Ian, it has been a long time,” she replies tightly, her society smile spreading across her face, “And it’s Hotchner now. Has been for a little while.” 
“Of course,” he says, his smile letting her know that he’d purposely got her name wrong. He looks her up and down, his eyes lingering in a way that makes her feel uncomfortable, but she doesn’t show it. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Didn’t you have a baby recently?” 
“I did,” she replies, taking a sip of her wine, “She’s three months old.”
He hums, looking her up and down again before his eyes meet hers, something about the icy blueness of them makes her recoil, her back pressing further into the wall.
“It’s a shame we never got a chance to be together,” he says, smirking, “We could have been great,” he leans in and kisses her cheek, his breath skipping across her skin making her clench her teeth, his hand briefly at her waist, “If you ever get bored of that husband of yours, or if he never makes it back,” he says, pulling back, his smirk wider, “You know where to find me.” 
She feels a fire in her belly, her grip on her drink tightening to the point she’s surprised the glass doesn’t break in her hand. Disgust flows through her veins, spreading through her whole body and she knows from how Ian smiles at her she doesn’t hide it either, her face giving away exactly how she feels. 
“You are such-”
“Emily.”
She turns, cut off from her insult by her mother, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She blows out a short sharp breath, her fake smile plastered back on her face as she turns to look at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful to see her, or for her timing. 
“Yes, Mother?”
“I need to borrow you for a moment,” she says, looking between Emily and Ian, “I am so sorry to whisk her away, Ian. It’s important.” 
“No problem, Elizabeth,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek too, smiling as he pulls back, “I think we were done here anyway.”
Emily glares at him but lets herself get led away by her mother, away from the ballroom where the party was being held. She feels less tense the further away they get, the sound of the revellers and the music fading as they make it towards her mother’s office.
“God, I cannot believe that is the man you wanted me to marry. He is awful,” she complains, shivering as she thinks of his hand on her waist, his foul breath on her skin. She frowns when she realises they’ve come to a stop, her mother standing outside of her office, an expression on her face that Emily cannot read, “What’s going on?”
“There’s someone here who wants to speak to you,” Elizabeth says, clearing her throat in a poor attempt to hide a smile, “It couldn’t wait until the end of the party.”  Emily frowns, her confusion only deepening further as her mother steps away, “I should get back, and leave you to it.” 
Emily watches her walk away, her gaze fixed on her mother until she disappears from sight. She looks back at the office door and stares at it for a moment, before opening it.
She freezes, her hand still tight around the door handle as the person in the room turns to look at her. 
He was skinnier. Some of the strength she had always admired was gone, obvious even through his green uniform. Their eyes meet and she feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.
“Aaron?”
___
It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d last been here.
The year that had elapsed in between both the shortest and the longest of his life. When he arrives at the front door, the sound of a party echoing outwards from within, he feels a sense of anger he hadn’t anticipated. 
Life went on, he knew that. The sun carried on rising despite everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through since he was last here, but it felt wrong. Life was carrying on as normal as if men weren’t dying in droves on another continent. He blows out a steady breath as he knocks on the door. It’s answered immediately, a person he doesn’t recognise looking him up and down.
“This is a private event,” he snaps, eyeing Aaron’s uniform with suspicion. 
“I used to work here,” he says, shaking his head at himself for that being the first thing he’d said, “I’m married to the daughter of the lady of the house.” 
The man narrows his eyes even further, before closing the door. Aaron sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thinks of his choices. He knew which room was Emily’s and he wasn’t above trying to sneak into the main house.
The door is opened again and he’s face to face with Elizabeth, her eyes wide with the closest thing to shock he’d ever seen her express. She’s dressed up, and has clearly been pulled from the party she was hosting to confirm his identity. 
“Aaron.” She says, looking him up and down, and he doesn’t miss the fact this is the first time they’ve interacted since she became his mother-in-law, “I think you’d better come in. We have a lot to talk about.”
___
Emily can’t take her eyes off him. She can’t move, can’t blink. Worried that the slightest shift will make him disappear. 
“What…” she drifts off, unable to formulate her thoughts, the words stuck in her throat as she continues to stare at him. Her vision becomes blurry, tears falling onto her cheeks and she finally releases her grip from the door handle, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Hi sweetheart,” he says, grateful when the door closes behind her, leaving them, for the first time in too long, alone. He takes the opportunity to look at her, to take in how beautiful she is. His memory had done her a disservice, as it always had when he tried to picture her, and the photo he kept in his pocket didn’t come close to showing how captivating she was. She looked tired, something he was sure had to do with their daughter he was yet to meet. 
“What are you doing here?” She chokes out. She stops just a couple of paces in front of him, her hand stopping in mid-air as she stops herself from touching him, still not entirely sure this was real. That he wouldn’t disappear in a puff of smoke.
“I had some leave. I spent most of it getting here, and will spend the rest of it getting back,” he explains, his hands twitching to reach out for her, to hold her like he had dreamt of for a year, but he knows he needs to take it at her pace, “I just had to see you. Both of you.” 
“How long are you here?” She asks, the sound of the party just down the hall muffled, as if it was miles away, her entire focus on here. On him.
“Two days at most,” he replies, hating the way her face falls, the way he can already see the grief gathering in her eyes. 
“It’s a hell of a long way to come for two days,” she says, her eyes searching his face as she takes one step closer, still not touching him.
“You and Mae are worth it.” 
She’s not sure if it’s the sentiment, or the fact it’s the first time she’s ever heard him say their daughter’s name, but that’s what breaks her. She closes the gap between them and buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he pulls her closer. He smells different, the soap he’s used clearly a cheap one that the army supply on masse, and now she’s hugging him she can feel that he’s skinnier, that whatever he’s eating out there isn’t enough, especially when she considers what he’s doing. She makes a mental note to ask Dave to get the cook to make whatever Aaron wants whilst he’s here. 
“I missed you so much,” she says, her face still pressed against his scratchy uniform, not sure how she can let go now she’s holding him. 
“I missed you too,” he replies, leaning down and kissing the top of her head, comforted by the familiar scent of her soap, something that he had fallen in love with years ago.
“It’s been so long since I got a letter,” she says, pulling back to look at him but making no attempt to move out of his arms, “I thought…” she can’t put it into words, doesn’t want to say what she’d assumed. 
He finally leans down and kisses her, his lips familiar against hers, and she grasps at the lapels of his jacket, holding him close.
“I have a letter for you, I thought I’d hand deliver it,” he mutters, kissing her again and she pulls back, her eyebrows pulled together indignantly as she narrows her eyes at him. She uses one of the hands buried in wool to lightly slap his chest. 
“You ass,” she says, kissing him despite her words, her forehead pressing into his before she pulls back, “I was worried.”
“I’m sorry,” he replies, one of his hands cupping her cheek, holding her in place, “I love you.” 
“I love you too,” she kisses him once more before she pulls away, one of her hands seeking out his, not wanting to lose their connection even for a moment, “Come on, there’s someone you’ve got to meet.” 
___
Emily is, as ever, grateful for JJ’s discretion. She looks shocked as Aaron follows Emily into her room, but doesn’t make any comment apart from explaining Mae had slept since she had gone downstairs before she leaves. 
Aaron smiles tightly at the other woman, his usual politeness nowhere to be found, no consideration for the woman who used to be his colleague, as all of his focus is on his wife and daughter. As soon as they are alone, the bedroom door closing softly behind JJ, Aaron finds his voice, once again surprised at the first thing he says. 
“I thought your room was on the other side of the house.” 
Emily turns to look at him, a soft smile on her face, “It was,” she says squeezing his hand in hers, “Mother moved me here. Said its ‘more fitting for a married woman,’” she says, rolling her eyes, “But it has an adjoining room for Mae,” she adds, tilting her head towards the door that leads to it, “Which is nice when she cries in the middle of the night, it means she’s never too far away.”
She steps towards him and presses her lips to his cheek, desperate to re-familiarise herself with as much of him as possible, all too aware that yet again she had very little time to do so. 
“Are you ready?” She asks softly, squeezing his hand as he nods.
“I think so.” 
She smiles and gently tugs him towards Mae’s room, pushing the adjoining door open before she flicks on the light. Emily wouldn’t be able to explain her own nervousness even if she wanted to, butterflies in her stomach and her heart pounding in her ears as she prepares to introduce the two people who mean the most to her to each other.
She wonders if she would have felt this way if he’d been here when Mae was born. If the nervous excitement would have been the same, or if the relief she’d felt at Mae’s safe arrival would have overridden it all. 
She hopes one day, if they are lucky, that she’d find out. 
Emily smiles as she sees Mae shifting around, sharp movements in her limbs as she grunts, a sign that she had only just woken up, probably to the sound of the short conversation they’d had with JJ. She disconnects from Aaron, letting go of his hand for the first time since she’d held it downstairs, and reaches into the bassinet to pick up Mae, the familiar weight of her daughter in her arms a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed. 
“Hi sweet girl,” she says, well aware of Aaron’s gaze fixed on them, the back of her neck burning with it.” She kisses the top of Mae’s head and turns to face Aaron, making sure the baby was facing him too, so he could see them both, “There’s someone here to meet you.” 
For once, she doesn’t berate herself for the crack in her voice, for the tears that press at the back of her eyes. The shock of finally seeing Aaron, of having what she’s wanted for so long, finally settling in. 
Aaron feels like he’s rooted to the ground. His body not moving as he simply stares at the two of them together, held in place by love and so many things he can’t put a name to. Mae was beautiful. Everything about her reminded him of Emily, as if Mae was a tiny version of her mother, right down to the slope of her nose and the small dimples in her cheeks. The tiny photo Emily had sent hadn’t done her justice, and he knew even if it had she would have changed so much since then anyway. 
“Em…she’s…”
She smiles at him and makes the decision to move towards him. She encourages him to put his arms out and places Mae in his embrace. She places one hand on Aaron’s arm and the other supports Mae’s head. 
“Aaron, this is Mae,” she says, a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob catching in her throat as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, not able to tear her eyes off of their daughter in his arms. A sight she’d dreamt of for months, “Mae, this is your daddy.” 
Emily feels a tear drop onto the top of her head, and looks up to see tracks on Aaron’s cheeks, his eyes shining. She reaches up, wiping at his skin before wrapping both of her arms around one of his, her head back against his shoulder. 
“She’s beautiful,” he says, his voice tight, “She looks just like you,” he lifts her up, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head, “She smells like you.” 
“I use my soap on her too,” Emily hums, turning her head just enough to press a kiss against his clothed shoulder, “I’ve always thought she looks just like you.”
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one,” he says, looking away from his daughter for just long enough to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He looks back at Mae, desperately trying to remember everything he can about her, smiling as she puts her fist in her mouth, “You did get one thing right though.” 
“What’s that?” She asks, reaching out and grabbing Mae’s hand, knowing it was almost time to feed her. 
“She definitely has your nose.” 
___
She allows herself, for a little while, to believe it was real. That he was back for good. That this was her life now. 
She just wanted one day with him that wasn’t tinged with sadness, with the reality that he wasn’t hers to keep, at least not for now, so she gives it to herself. 
They wake up early, woken by a cranky Mae demanding her first meal of the day before they head down for breakfast themselves. Elizabeth raises her eyebrow at Aaron but says nothing else about his reappearance. It’s only later, when they are walking the grounds just the two of them and Mae, that he tells her about his conversation with her mother the night before. How she wasn’t as mad as he’d expected, her fury somewhat diminished by her love for her granddaughter. 
The day passes too quickly for Emily’s liking. A taste of what could be, what should be, as he helps her with Mae. She doesn’t miss the sadness that crosses his face whenever the baby cries when she’s with him, quietening immediately in Emily’s arms when he passes her over. 
After they’ve put her to bed, slowly backing out of her room so they don’t wake her again, Emily kisses him as soon as the adjoining door to their room is closed. She loops her arms around his neck, taking every opportunity to be as close to him as possible. 
“She doesn’t cry because she hates you, you know,” Emily says, trying to smile reassuringly at him, “I talk about you all the time,” she strokes her fingers through his hair as he places his hands on her hips, “She just…”
“Doesn’t know me,” he finishes for her, shaking his head at himself, “And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.” 
“Aaron-”
“My daughter doesn’t know who I am, Em,” he says, cutting over her, “She’s 12 weeks old, and she’s known me for a day.” 
“Honey,” she says, making him look at her, “She’s a baby. She only figured out how to smile a few weeks ago,” she swallows thickly, pushing down her own feelings about it all for now, “When you come back for good, things will be different.” 
It’s the closest either of them has come all day to address their reality. They had no idea how long he’d be gone for. It could be months. Another year.
Forever. 
She leans forward to kiss him, wanting to change the direction of her thoughts, of their conversation. Wanting nothing more than to end their day as they had lived it - together. 
“We don’t have to,” he says as he pulls away, and it makes her smile, makes her think of their wedding night, how she knows he meant it then too. They hadn’t had the chance last night. Both of them far too tired to do anything other than literally sleep together. They’d curled up around each other, and had woken up in the exact same position, their hands still intertwined. 
She steps onto her tiptoes, eliminating the height difference between them, and kisses him fiercely. Her hands run up the back of his neck and she digs her fingers into his hair, holding him close as she licks at the seam of his lips, grateful when he responds immediately, pulling her even closer. 
She pants as she pulls her lips from his, her forehead against his as she tries to make her breathing even again.
“Aaron, please,” she says, stamping another kiss against his lips, “I want to.”
He nods, his grip on her hips tightening slightly as his forehead knocks against hers. 
“I want to too,” he replies, one of his hands stroking up her back, “I just…” he drifts off, unsure how to put it into words, how to explain himself. He sighs, “Last time, I left you here alone, pregnant. And…” 
She hears what he hasn’t said, how he doesn’t think it’s fair to do that to her again. She pulls back to look at him, her hands drifting to his cheeks, holding him in place as she makes him look at her. 
“I don’t care about that,” she says, her eyes boring into his, “Besides, the doctor said it’s unlikely I can get pregnant whilst I’m still feeding Mae, and even if it does happen…” she swallows thickly, the thought of going through all of that alone, again, almost too much to bear, “If it does happen then it happens,” she shrugs half-heartedly, “I will take of much as you as I can get.” 
He stares at her for a second, considering what she’s said, before he nods, surging forward and kissing her as if they had never stopped. They shed their clothes quickly, material falling to the floor without fanfare, their need for each other getting more desperate by the second. It’s only when she’s naked, laying on the bed, that she feels self-conscious, his gaze fixed on her as he looks at her intently. 
“I know I look different,” she says, pressing one of her hands to her stomach. Her skin was still looser than it used to be, and her hips were wider. There were thin pink lines that were slowly turning silver across her abdomen, signs of where her skin had been stretched almost to its limit when Mae was still inside of her, “I know it’s not-”
“You’re beautiful,” he says, cutting her off, pressing a kiss to her lips to stop her from saying anything else, before he moves downwards, worshipping her skin bit by bit before he gets to her stomach. His touch becomes even more reverent, his fingers and his lips mapping her out again as he had on their wedding night, re-learning all of her hills and valleys, “I wish I could have seen you,” he mutters against her skin. 
“I was massive,” she comments, not missing the breathlessness of her voice.
“You still would have been gorgeous,” he says, travelling further down her body, his hands tracing her thighs, gently pushing them apart as he kneels in front of the bed. 
She sits up, her elbows on the bed as she looks at him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he looks at her, his eyes fixed between her legs. 
“What are you doing?” She asks, and he looks up at her, making no move to get up off the floor.
“Do you trust me?” He asks in response, still not giving her an answer, a fire in his eyes that threatens to engulf them both. 
“Yes,” she answers simply because it’s true. There’s no one she trusts more. 
Before she knows what was happening, his focus has shifted again, his hands holding her thighs apart as he licks through her, making them moan simultaneously, her at the feeling of it, of every nerve in her body feeling like it was alight, and him at the taste of her. 
“Oh my God,” she moans, her elbows giving out as she lays back down, her hands fisting in the bedspread as he carries on, his grip on her thighs getting tighter as he explores her in this new way, “Please don’t stop.” 
He takes her apart, slowly and methodically as if he had thought of nothing else in the year that they had been apart. Pleasure rushes through her in a way she didn’t know it could, and it takes her a second to remember to breathe, her body shaking as she comes back down. She blinks, clearing her vision, and feels the dip of the bed next to her. She looks at him, breathing heavily as he smiles at her.
“You ok?” He asks, and she nods, clearing her throat. 
“Yes. More than ok. Where the hell did you learn about that?” She asks, reaching up and pulling him down for a kiss. 
“France,” he mutters, shifting them so he’s laying on top of her, both of them groaning as he notches over her. She raises an eyebrow at him, her curiosity slowly getting the better of him, “It’s a bunch of men sitting in a dug-out trench in the ground sweetheart, we talk about sex.” 
“Oh,” she says, hooking one of her legs around him, bringing him impossibly closer. She doesn’t want to talk about France, about the reality that he’d start his long journey back the following morning. And she knows he doesn’t too, “Well…we’re definitely doing that again at some point.” 
He smiles at her and leans down to kiss her, one of his hands sneaking between them, his finger briefly dragging over her before he guides himself into her, both of them groaning as he pushes forward. 
It was overwhelming, the feeling of her around him better than he remembered. The fleeting time they’d had together when they got married was never enough. He buries his face in her collarbone, whispering praise against her skin as she shifts her hips up into him, a silent request to move that he is happy to oblige. 
They move together, his hand reaching for hers, linking their fingers next to her head on the bed as they build each other up. The only sound in the room is them, and quiet gasps of each other’s names whispered against skin. He can sense she’s close, can feel it in how she’s grasping at him, in how she says his name, so he reaches between them, his finger swiping over her until they tip over the edge together. 
He lays on top of her until he gets his breath back, and moves to roll off of her, but she stops him. Her still shaky legs hooked around him, and her arms tight around his back. 
“Em-”
“Not yet,” she says, and he looks down at her, sadness sparking in his chest at the unshed tears in her eyes. “Not yet.” She repeats, and he nods, leaning down to kiss her, hoping he can get across everything he can’t find the words for. How much he loves her. How much he didn’t want to leave. 
How much he missed her already, even though he was right here with her. 
“Ok sweetheart, not yet.” 
___
He wakes up alone. 
At first, he doesn’t notice. His heart racing as he sits up suddenly, heaving deep breaths into his lungs. It takes him a moment to realise where he is, that he’s home. He’s safe. 
It’s the silence he finds the strangest, the total opposite of what he was now used to. The complete lack of sound was louder than he knew it could be. 
He rubs his eyes as they adjust to the low light of the room, and he looks over to the adjoining door to Mae’s nursery and sees it’s slightly open, light streaming into the main bedroom around it. He gets up, stretching as he walks towards the door. As he gets closer he hears quiet singing, Emily’s voice soft as it travels through the air. 
“The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea —
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish —
Never afeard are we”
Aaron opens the door, smiling as he’s met with the sight of Emily sitting down, Mae against her chest. She’s rubbing the baby’s back, her lips against the top of her head as she sings. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that lullaby,” he says, his smile widening as she looks up at him, her own smile sleepy. 
“It’s one my dad used to sing to me,” she replies, “I think she likes it. Want to come sit with us?” 
She doesn’t need to ask twice, moving across the room quickly, she stands just long enough for him to slip in behind her in the chair. He wraps his arms around her as she settles against him. He feels the last bits of tension caused by his nightmare fading away at having his girls in his arms. 
“Is she ok?” He asks, looking down at Mae and watching as her eyes flutter shut, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. 
“She’s fine,” Emily assures him, tilting her head to look at him, “She needed feeding, and she always likes to cuddle afterwards,” she smiles, looking back at Mae, “I like it too. Are you ok? I didn’t wake you up did I?” 
“No,” he says, holding her a little tighter, “You didn’t. I…dreamt about something.” 
She reads between the lines, not needing any other information to know it was a nightmare, that he was trying to play it down for her. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” 
“I don’t know how to. Everything over there is so…awful. Some of the men dying are just kids,” he shakes his head, chuckling bitterly, “Boys. And I don’t know how to tell you. You and her are so untouched by it,” he says, reaching out to touch Mae’s head, his fingers gentle against her soft hair, “I don’t want to bring it here too”
“We’re not untouched by it. I know it’s not the same. But my life is on pause, Aaron. I’m sat here waiting for you to come back, or for a telegram telling me you’ll never come back. I had our little girl alone. You weren’t there waiting to meet her,” she says, her eyes meeting his. She sees the sadness on his face, the guilt he’s barely covered up the entire time he’s been here, and she sighs. She takes one of her hands out from under Mae and reaches out for him, tangling their fingers together, “It’s not your fault, but I’m not untouched by it.” 
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you’re not,” he kisses the side of her head, “The thing is I can’t even wish I hadn’t gone. Because if I hadn’t, I don’t think we’d be here.”
She hums in agreement. She’d had the same thought many times over the last year, she was well aware that his decision to sign up for the army had been the push they’d needed. 
“You’re right. I’d be married to Ian,” she looks down at Mae, realising she had now fallen asleep. “And she wouldn’t exist,” she looks at Aaron and kisses him, “She’s asleep, if you want we can go back to bed?” 
He nods, kissing her again before she stands, well-practised at holding the baby as she moved around, and she sets her back down into the bassinet without disturbing her. Aaron leans down and kisses Mae’s head before he loops his arm around his wife, leading her back into their room. 
They both knew the countdown was on, that their time left together was limited. Hours would soon tick down into minutes, then seconds. 
They didn’t want to waste any of it. 
___
She doesn’t let him out of her sight until he has to leave. Even then, she stands by the front door with Mae in her arms, her eyes fixed on the car her mother had organised for him until he completely disappears from view. 
Somehow, it feels worse than the first time she had to let him go. The sweet taste of their life together that she’d had for a couple of days turning bitter as he gets further away from her. 
Mae cries out in her arms, and Emily looks at her, adjusting her hold on her daughter as she turns into the house. 
“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, raising her up a little so she can kiss her head, “It’s almost time for you to eat.” 
When she gets back to their room, she finds a letter propped up against their wedding photo, his familiar scrawl across the envelope spelling out both her and Mae’s names. 
Next to it is a small vase. A bunch of freshly picked daisies staring back at her, seeming all too bright for the heaviness in her heart. 
-x-
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keenpoetryblizzard · 2 years ago
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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.
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little-miss-raven · 1 year ago
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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?”
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Hobie should have a little old lady who adores him
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