#my mom keeps saying she has to live for another five years

[everyfandomever]

I made myself sad :(

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

.

[differenteagletragedy]

Simon Riley x Single Mom Reader, Part Six <3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

"We'll be fine, love."

"Are you sure? I can reschedule. Should I reschedule?"

"Not necessary."

"Simon ..."

"Sweetheart."

You sigh and nod, picking up the diaper bag by the door. Emma is on your hip -- six months old now, and her neck is finally working right. You needed to take her in for a check-up at the doctor's, but Charlie was having a particularly energetic morning, so Simon stepped in and offered to watch him for you.

It's his first time babysitting one of the kids on his own, and part of him is confident. He can lead men into war, he can watch a rambunctious four-year-old.

Another part of him though, a quieter, more anxious part that he tries to push down, is just a little worried. Things are going so well, and he wants to keep proving to you that what you have is good. That it's worth keeping.

"All right, Charlie," he says, firmly but not coldly, once you and Emma leave the house. "We've got to hold down the fort, you and me. Got it?"

"Aye aye, captain," Charlie says, giving a salute.

Simon chuckles -- the boy knows he's in the army at this point, but obviously not the ins and outs of it all.

"Not a captain yet, and you're not one of my men anyway. Simon'll do just fine."

It's a fun afternoon, more fun than he'd imagined it would be. He and Charlie make a blanket fort in the living room (his first time, but it turns out all right), then they make s'mores in the microwave (also his first time, and it's a little bit of disaster).

It's fun, but it's difficult in a strange, painful sort of way. Simon never got to be a kid, and he's never been around children. Emma is sweet, absolutely adorable, but she doesn't talk yet. Charlie, though, has a way of speaking that's so innocent and honest in a way he's never experienced. He's sweet too, and he's very certain that he'd die for either of them, but there's a learning curve with him, one he's so desperate to master.

At the heart of it all, Simon just wants to be good for you. For all of you. And he'll keep trying until he is.

When you come home, Emma fussy after her shots, Charlie is on a sugar high, zipping in and out of the blanket fort. You laugh, happy to see your son happy, and Simon takes Emma so you can talk to him.

"Did you have a good time?" you ask, a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him in place for a moment."'

"Yeah, we always have fun," Charlie answers, grinning.

You swipe a bit of melted marshmallow off the corner of his mouth, smiling back down at the boy.

"You're kind of a mess though, huh? Want to go ahead and take your bath?"

He pouts, looking up at you with big eyes, and tells you that he wants to play a little longer. When he glances at Simon, the message seems clear -- he wants to keep playing with him.

"Not going anywhere, Charlie," Simon says quietly. "Why don't you listen to your mum though and get cleaned up now?"

The child smiles at his reassurance, and nods. Simon nods back, Emma still whining in his arms, and before he can process it, Charlie is hugging his leg.

"Love you, Daddy," he says, and then he's off.

Simon freezes for a moment, then looks at you. You offer him a tight smile, but something's off, and he can't quite place it.

"Never asked him to call me that."

"No, I know," you say quickly, shaking your head. "Of course not. It's just ... I don't know, he might be kind of confused? You've been around so much more than his actual father, he's probably ..."

You trail off, biting your lip, and he steps closer to you, the baby resting against his chest.

"What's got you so upset?" he asks softly. He wants to make it better, but he needs to know how.

"I just don't want you to think that I'm pushing it on him, I guess?" you answer, glancing up at him before looking back down. "I don't want to force that role on you at all. I know it's a lot."

He considers his words carefully, knowing how important they are, and finally he admits, "It is a lot."

Your head jerks up to look at him, and there's almost a fearful look in your eyes. With his free hand, he strokes your cheek lightly, keeping your eyes on him.

"But I wouldn't trade it for anything. You hear me? Being here with you, with them, it's ... more than I could have ever asked for. Much more than I deserve."

You let out a small, nervous breath. You're so expressive, and he's always so thankful for it, because in your eyes, he can see how much this matters to you. How you want to do all of this right, even if you're not exactly sure how to go about it.

Finally, you speak again, telling him, "I don't want you to feel like you need to be that though, you know? Be their dad. It's been, what, almost five months? Simon, that's ..."

"I'll be whatever you need, love. Always. I can promise you that."

And he means it, easily. He doesn't need the kids to call him dad, or a big conversation about his exact role in the family. What he needs, from now on, is to be able to take care of you, all three of you. Whatever that looks like, however it plays out, he's all in now.

He needs you to be all in too.

"Don't worry so much about me, all right?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not running away. I'm not leaving."

You laugh, a little broken, and say, "That's kind of a first for me."

His hand, still on your cheek, moves to the back of your neck, gently pulling you against him. He keeps Emma, who's settling now, tucked against one side of his chest and holds you against the other.

"I mean it. As long as you'll have me, I'm yours."

You look up at him, your arms going around his waist, smiling a little more genuinely now that he's got you like this.

"And what if I want to have you for a very long time?"

"Then that's exactly what you'll get."

PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT

[thissying]

"A wunderkind," said Niki Lauda when Limburger Max Verstappen (18) won his first Grand Prix in Spain on Sunday. Her wunderkind, thought Sophie Kumpen (41), at home in Maaseik in front of the television. Two hours later the phone rang: "Wow. Mom. Actually unbelievable, huh."

21 May, 2016

Sophie was at home on Sunday when it happened. All alone, on a chair, in front of the television. "I've been in the pit box at enough races to know: I actually prefer to watch in the living room. You can't see it better anywhere else than on television. I have a fixed ritual for it. A candle on the table. Smartphone in hand. And that chair." (points to one of the dining room chairs)

"Of course, if I had known in advance that Max would win his first Grand Prix, I would have gone along. During those last two corners I was sitting in my chair cheering. When Max crossed the finish line, I cried. I didn't even cry at his birth. They were tears of relief, I think. He was finally able to show what I always knew he could do."

What role does genetics play? So far unclear. But this much is certain: if Max drove the competition away on Sunday - and was also a bit lucky with two top drivers dropping out - it was mainly a matter of years of training. "Max has been working towards this for fourteen years. He was four when he started karting. Jos and I practically lived on the circuit at that time. People sometimes think that we pushed Max. That's not true. It came from him. Once that happened, there was no stopping him. And honestly? I understand that. It was the same for me. That kick. That adrenaline. That quickly becomes addictive."

Sophie once lived in the same world as Max does today. She was successful in karting, and Jos had made it in F1. The couple lived in Monaco and bathed in wealth. But the divorce, in 2006, turned that life upside down. Max was eight, his sister Victoria six. It was decided: Max would stay with Jos, Victoria with Sophie. And while Jos focused on his son's career, Sophie looked for a job in Maaseik.

"A very difficult time," says Sophie. "I didn't see Max a lot then. He quickly started to achieve international success and he was abroad a lot with his father. I found that incredibly difficult. But I also knew: if we really wanted to pursue Max's big dream, he would be better off with Jos. I had to flip a switch for that. There were many nights when I lay in bed crying. Out of sadness, for the child I missed so much. I really had to let go of Max. I was often very afraid that I would lose him. Now that he is eighteen, I have the feeling that all that is changing. He visits me more often, shows up unexpectedly at the door more often. 'Mum, let's go shopping in Hasselt.' Max recently had to get his driver's license. He had to drive for a few days with a supervisor. He said: 'I want to do that with you, mum.' I am increasingly getting my place as a mum back. That feels really good."

"The contact with Jos is finally better again, too. Everything has fallen into place: Jos has remarried and I am also doing well. When Max won on Sunday, Jos called me from Barcelona. However, we hardly ever call each other. But at a moment like that you know: this is our child. And then it is nice to be able to share that emotion with each other and to be able to cry together. I am glad we had that phone call. It felt good to be able to do that. For Max as well."

"After the divorce, I started working for the OCMW [social welfare centre]. I believe that things in life happen for a reason. I see a lot of poverty. I see the underclass of society. I think it's good that I can show Max that. We talk about it. I want him to know that there is another world than his. That's good to keep his feet on the ground. As a mother, I'm sometimes afraid that he'll start to float. I think it's my job to prevent that. I often say: 'Max, don't get too big for your boots, boy. Be nice to people, be nice to the fans. If there are twenty fans, don't sign five, but twenty autographs.' Max knows that, how important that is. And he does that with a smile. Deep down he is very down to earth. Max is a very down-to-earth guy, actually. He now has a Swedish girlfriend - someone who also races. When those two visit: it is really very relaxed. Something to eat, a game of cards, a chat. Max really likes 'normal'. He recently got a sponsorship contract with Puma. He said: 'Mum, then I'll get a new pair of shoes!' I thought that was nice of him. That he could be as happy as a child with a new pair of shoes."

It's been a madhouse since Sunday. Both in Monaco and in Maaseik. "Even I've been overwhelmed all week. I've received 1,500 Facebook requests. The phone didn't stop ringing. Journalists called from America. It really can stop now. Just because Max has won once, doesn't mean he'll keep winning. We all have to stay level-headed about that. Things have been going really well for Max for a year and a half now. There will be a dip at some point. We better prepare for that. I always impress that on Max. 'Think carefully and enjoy it, because it could all be over tomorrow.' He then says: 'Yes, mum, I know.'"

It can never end more suddenly than with a crash. Last year Max came close to that. It happened in Monaco. His car: straight into the tire barrier. Sophie was watching. "I remember thinking: please, get out of that car. And he did get out of that car - unharmed. Maybe that won't happen one day. Or he will be seriously injured. From the moment your child puts on a helmet, you know that it can go wrong. Look at Jules Bianchi, last year. That crash was so hard that he was brain dead. They had to pull the plug. We talk about that. What if something like that ever happens to Max? At least we'll know that it happened while he was doing what he loved to do."

"When I light candles, that is why. So that everything goes well. But you do take into account that it could be different every time. I find the start especially difficult. After two or three laps that improves. When they're all driving behind each other. Should I tell Max that he's not allowed to race? That wouldn't be fair. I've done circuits myself. So who am I to stop my son? Fortunately I know: Formula 1 has become increasingly safer in recent years. Less and less can go wrong."

Sophie - an interior designer by education - was 21 when she said goodbye to top-level sport. "Jos and I saw each other so little that I chose my marriage . Now I sometimes think: 'What if?' When I chose Jos, I said 'no' to a top offer from Formula Opel Lotus. What if I had said 'yes'? I was good at the time. Although I also know: then I wouldn't have had Max and Victoria. The dream that I had to put aside myself, Max is now realizing in my place. That feels good. The sacrifices were not in vain. Because sacrifices: we all made them. Victoria too. Our whole life has been about Max. Sometimes I feel bad for Victoria. I can feel quite guilty about that. It must not have always been easy for Victoria to stand in the shadow of her brother. My daughter works in haircare now. Two weeks ago she put highlights on me. She is one of the best in her class. I am incredibly proud of her - just as proud as I am of Max. But sometimes it gnaws at me: Victoria was very good at karting as a child. What if Jos had invested as much in her as in Max? She could have gone very far, because I think she is better than me. I would have thought it was fantastic. If a woman does well in motorsport, that is still more impressive than when a man does it. Only, it turned out differently. And now that she is sixteen, it doesn't have to be that way for her anymore. She is happy the way she is. People often ask her why she is not like her brother. But then I think: let her be herself."

"Especially now that Max is getting older, he realizes those things. He knows that his sister sacrificed everything for him. They get along very well. Max will always take care of Victoria - a mother senses those things. They once made an appointment, laughing. Victoria had wanted a Louis Vuitton handbag for a long time. 'But I won't get one from mom,' she had told Max. And so Max said: 'When I score my first points in F1, you'll get one.' The day Max scored those points, he took Victoria into Düsseldorf. They bought the bag together. Victoria has been lugging her Vuitton everywhere ever since. That makes Max happy, I can see that. The bag has emotional value for him too: it symbolizes those first points."

She: employee at the OCMW. Her son: 'rising star' in Monaco. "Does Max earn a lot of money? A lot, yes. But he has a manager, who helps him manage that. That's good. Max recently missed his plane. He immediately booked a new ticket. I, with my salary, wouldn't be able to do that. But I'm glad he can, and still manages to be careful with his money. On Mother's Day, he suddenly showed up at the door. He had a surprise. He knew I was looking for a new small car. He took me to the dealership that day and bought me a car. He said: 'Mum, for everything you've done for me.' I can see him doing that for his sister someday. She recently wanted to see him drive in Bahrain. Then he said: 'Your ticket is ready, sister.' It's nice that he does that. He doesn't have to. But it's his way of giving something back." On Thursday, Max was on Belgian soil for 24 hours: the moment when Sophie could finally hold him. "I asked: Max, you're coming, aren't you? He said: 'Of course, mom. Will you cook me something nice?' I made carpaccio, a salad and some pasta. And for dessert: his guilty pleasure. Top sports always means dieting, but what is one Kinder chocolate? There are always some in the cupboard for him."

Next week Max faces his next challenge: the Monaco Grand Prix. Sophie is going to watch and is bringing a few family members along - motorsport is in the Kumpens' blood, Sophie is the niece of racer Anthony Kumpen. "Max sets the bar high. He crashed in Monaco last year. There was criticism about that. 'Wasn't he too young?' He thinks he has something to prove now. And I know: he doesn't necessarily need his mother for that. But I do enjoy being there for him."

"And. Uh. It gives me the chance to also go and see his apartment. I decorated it at the time. Going to have a look. Whether that young man of eighteen hasn't made a mess of it." (laughs)

[brookediamonds]

can i request axel helping the reader babysit their little sister?

i'm happy at home | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: What was supposed to be a fun night out has turned into a night of babysitting with your boyfriend, Axel.

Word Count: 960 Warnings: fluff, axel being cute

not my gif

"I'm sorry, sweetie, they're calling everyone in," your mom apologizes as she hurriedly packs her back pack.

"It's fine, I didn't have set plans anyway," you assure her trying not to look too disappointed you wouldn't be going to hang out with your boyfriend.

"You can invite Axel over if you want," she offers as she slings her back over her shoulder. "I trust with your sister around, there will be no funny business."

"Mom," you blush embarrassed by her words.

"Alright, alright," she chuckles walking around the kitchen island to grab her keys from the wall. "Call him if you want, sweetheart. I'll be home by morning, don't wait up for me."

She gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door, leaving you standing there, phone already in hand. You hesitate for a moment before clicking on Axel's contact.

You glumly hold your phone to your ear as the dial tone rang, when he picks up.

"Hi, my love," he greets you sweetly, his low accent sending a warmth through you.

"Hey," you exhale, leaning your back against the counter behind you.

"I'm just about to head out to go pick you up," he informs you making you frown.

"Actually before you do, there's been a change in plans," you say. "My mom got called in to the hospital so I have to watch my sister tonight. Raincheck?"

There's a brief pause before Axel speaks again. "Well, I can come over and help out, keep you company."

Your heart softens at the offer. "You really don’t have to—"

"It's okay, we'll have fun!" He exclaims. "Your sister does love me you know?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head slightly. "Yes, I know," you mumble.

"Now, what should I bring you two for dinner?"

--------------------------------------------------------

It’s barely twenty minutes later when the sound of a car pulling up outside has you peeking out the window.

Axel steps out, a takeout bag in one hand and a drink carrier in the other, looking as effortlessly cool as ever in his hoodie and sweats.

You open the door before he can even knock, leaning against the frame with a smirk. "You are by far the hottest delivery boy I've ever seen. Can I have your number?"

Axel huffs a laugh, stepping inside. "I don’t know… You look like the type to leave me on read."

You snort, reaching for the food, but he lifts it just out of reach.

"Uh-uh," he teases. "Where’s the little princess? I brought her a milkshake."

Right on cue, your five-year-old sister comes bounding down the hallway.

"Axel!" she squeals, making a beeline for him.

Axel crouches, handing her the smallest cup from the carrier. "One vanilla milkshake for my favorite girl."

She beams, taking it with both hands. "You're my favorite, too!"

You gawked crossing your arms over your chest as your sister turns to run towards the kitchen. "What about me?"

Axel steps towards you with a small smirk on his face, holding up another cup.

"You," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before you can protest, "are my love."

You can't help but blush as you rolled your eyes. "Fine, you're forgiven."

The three of you settle at the dining table, unwrapping burgers and digging into fries while your sister chatters excitedly about her day.

Axel listens with an amused expression, nodding along like every word is the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.

Dinner goes by quickly, and before you can suggest a movie, your sister tugs on Axel’s sleeve. "Come play dolls with me!"

You bite back a grin as she begins to pull him towards the living room where her barbies and other toys laid sprawled out.

"Dolls, huh?" Your boyfriend glances at you with a look of uncertainty.

"Scared?" You taunt him as she makes her self comfortable on the carpet.

"Of course not," he scoffs moving to sit cross-legged beside her, holding a tiny plastic doll between his fingers.

"So, what’s my role here?" he asks staring at the blonde doll in his hold.

"You’re Ken!" your sister announces, shoving another doll into his other hand. "This one is his best friend."

Axel looks at the doll in each hand, then clears his throat, changing his accent to American and deepening his voice.

"Hey, man. Nice car," he says, making the dolls 'talk' to each other. Your sister bursts into giggles.

"Ken doesn’t talk like that!" She says through fits of laughter.

You can’t help but laugh at the sight, your tough, brooding boyfriend sitting in the middle of the floor, completely serious about his assigned doll role.

He catches your amused expression and playfully narrows his eyes. "Don’t say a word."

"Sure thing, dear," you wink at him, secretly taking your phone to snap a picture before he can notice.

After nearly half an hour of dolls, you finally convince your sister to wind down with the movie 'Lilo & Stitch.'

You all pile onto the couch, your sister snug between you and Axel, wrapped in a soft blanket.

The movie plays softly in the background, but before long, her little head starts nodding against Axel’s arm.

"Out like a light," he murmurs, glancing down at her sleeping figure.

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her small round face. "She had fun."

Axel shifts slightly, draping an arm across the back of the couch so that his fingers ghost against your shoulder. "Did you?"

"Yeah," you tilt your head toward him, meeting his gaze. "Thanks for coming over."

He gives you a small, knowing smile, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. "Of course."

As Lilo and Stitch went hunting for jobs with Nani, you lean into him, his warmth seeping into you while your sister sleeps soundly between you.

It might not have been the night you originally planned, but with Axel here, it still turned out perfect.

--------------------------------------------------------

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: this was so cute 🥹 loving the requests!)

[faithschaoschronicles]

Next Door to You|| Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary— you moved move in next door to Bucky who your kids grow found of.

The first time you met your neighbor, he barely said a word.

You were dragging a box of your kids’ books down the narrow hallway of your new apartment building, keys clutched in your mouth, your five-year-old running ahead barefoot despite your warnings. The box gave a lurch halfway to your door—and that’s when a large, gloved hand caught it.

“Whoa there,” came a low voice, a bit rough but not unkind.

You glanced up and met sharp blue eyes, a stubble-covered jaw, and broad shoulders wrapped in a dark hoodie. He wore a baseball cap pulled low, but he stood straight—military straight. Alert. Watchful.

“Oh—thank you,” you said, trying to balance your toddler on your hip and the box with your free hand. “Moving day. Sorry for the chaos.”

He gave a short nod and stepped back after steadying the box. “No problem.”

That was it. He disappeared into the apartment next to yours without another word, and you figured that was that. Quiet neighbor. Maybe grumpy. Definitely private.

But that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

Your kids noticed him first. Of course they did.

Three days later, you found your daughter sitting cross-legged outside your apartment door, scribbling something in a notebook. She looked up and grinned.

“Mommy, Mr. B lives next door.”

You blinked. “Mr. B?”

“Yeah. He said his name’s Bucky, but I think B sounds cooler. He has a robot arm!”

Your heart stuttered. “You what?”

“I saw it,” your son piped up, hopping on one foot. “It’s shiny. Like super shiny. He was carrying groceries and let me touch it.”

“He let you—?”

You dropped the bag of laundry, eyes wide. “Okay. I told you not to bother the neighbors, sweetheart.”

“He wasn’t mad,” your daughter insisted. “He said he didn’t mind.”

Which, apparently, was true—because over the next few weeks, Bucky Barnes became a fixture in your kids’ lives in a way you never could’ve predicted.

At first, it was little things. Helping your son fix his tricycle wheel. Catching your daughter’s notebook when she dropped it. Letting them talk his ear off on the stoop while he tried to read the paper. You always tried to intercept, to apologize, but he’d just shake his head and murmur, “It’s okay.”

And somehow, he meant it.

One evening, you found yourself sitting on the hallway floor with a glass of wine after a long day. Your kids were asleep, the apartment was finally quiet, and you just… needed air. Your back was to the door when it opened next to you.

You didn’t even flinch.

“Sorry,” Bucky said.

You tilted your head up and smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not loitering, I swear. Just avoiding laundry.”

He gave a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh and looked at you for a long moment before leaning against his own doorframe, arms crossed.

“They’re good kids,” he said.

You blinked. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it.”

That silenced you. You watched him carefully, the way he kept his shoulders tight, his voice low, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to take up space.

“They adore you,” you said quietly. “They keep trying to draw pictures of your arm. My daughter thinks you’re a superhero.”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m not.”

You didn’t push. Just nudged your wine glass in his direction.

“Still a cool arm, though.”

Bucky looked up, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something behind the guarded expression. Amusement. Surprise.

He didn’t take the wine. But he sat down next to you on the hallway floor.

And that became a habit.

Some nights, he told you about the books he liked. Other nights, you talked about your kids. Your ex wasn’t in the picture—hadn’t been for a long time—and while you didn’t unload it all at once, Bucky never pried. He just listened.

Eventually, he brought cookies. You brought old movies. You started watching them on his couch after your kids went to bed, talking over the credits while the city buzzed outside.

He never touched you. Never flirted. But something in your chest cracked open every time he smiled at your stories or carefully asked how your day went.

He let your daughter paint his metal fingers with pink glitter polish one Saturday morning.

You found her sitting on his lap, carefully brushing color over steel, while your son lined up action figures on the rug beside them.

“She said I needed ‘flair,’” Bucky explained with a completely straight face.

You laughed until you had to wipe your eyes.

You didn’t know what to call what was happening between you.

It wasn’t dating. You’d never even held his hand.

But he started bringing two extra bagels back when he ran out for breakfast. Your son left drawings outside his door. And one night, when your daughter had a nightmare, she asked if “Mr. Bucky” could read to her. You tried to say no, to tell her it wasn’t fair to ask—but she was crying, and when you turned, Bucky was already crouching by her bed with a well-worn copy of Where the Wild Things Are.

You watched from the doorway as his low voice filled the room and her breathing evened out.

He left without a word that night. You didn’t stop him.

It wasn’t until your son fell at the playground—badly—that it all came spilling out.

You were holding him, blood dripping down his temple, trying to keep it together while dialing urgent care. You didn’t realize Bucky was there until his shadow fell over you, voice steady and calm as he crouched beside you and asked, “Let me help.”

He rode with you in the cab. Sat beside you in the waiting room. Let your son clutch his hand while the nurse cleaned the cut.

You looked at him like he was a miracle.

Afterward, walking home with your son fast asleep on your chest, you stopped outside your door and turned to him.

“Why do you do this?”

He blinked. “Do what?”

“All of it. The cookies. The books. The doctor’s office. You don’t have to. You owe us nothing.”

Bucky’s voice was quiet. “I like doing it.”

“Why?”

His jaw flexed. His eyes dropped to the sleeping child in your arms, then back to you.

“Because I don’t… I don’t get a lot of chances to be good at anything. Not anything that matters.” He cleared his throat. “And I like your laugh. Your kids make me feel like I’m not a monster. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

You stepped closer, tears stinging your eyes.

“You’re not a monster, Bucky. You’re family.”

He didn’t say anything.

But that night, when your kids were asleep, he knocked on your door.

And he held you for a long, long time.

The knock came just after midnight.

You opened the door slowly, your robe wrapped tight around your waist, heart already pounding. And there he was—Bucky. Still in his hoodie, the edge of his metal fingers twitching at his side, eyes heavy with something he didn’t know how to name.

You didn’t say a word. You just stepped back and let him in.

He didn’t come for anything else.

He came to be held.

You curled up together on your couch in the quiet dark, the warmth of his body solid beside yours, and let your fingers drift over his flesh-and-metal arm while the hum of the fridge filled the silence. You didn’t speak until he finally exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years.

“I haven’t let anyone touch me like this in a long time.”

You looked up, heart aching.

“Do you want me to stop?”

His answer was immediate.

“No.”

You pressed your forehead to his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. “Then stay.”

And he did.

It started small, like everything else with Bucky.

The next morning, your daughter found him asleep on the couch with a blanket half-kicked off and her favorite stuffed animal tucked under his arm. She gasped and whispered (not quietly at all), “Mommy, Mr. Bucky slept over!”

You braced yourself for questions, for confusion—but instead, she beamed.

“Is he staying for pancakes?”

You looked at him, still groggy and blinking at the ceiling.

“Are you?”

His lips twitched. “I guess I’m staying for pancakes.”

And that’s how it began.

The shift between you wasn’t sudden, but it was sure.

You fell into a rhythm—your hand brushing his when he handed you the cereal box, your kids climbing into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, his voice low in your ear when he made you laugh while washing dishes. He started spending more nights in your apartment than his, though he always hesitated before crossing that threshold. You never pushed. You just made space. And over time, he filled it.

One night, you sat together on your tiny balcony while the kids slept inside, the summer air warm and soft against your skin. Bucky leaned against the railing, arms bare, hair falling loose around his jaw.

You hadn’t kissed yet. Not really.

But your knees touched. And his fingers kept brushing yours.

“You make it look easy,” he said quietly.

You turned to him. “Make what look easy?”

“Being a good mom. Having… this. A life. You laugh, even when you’re tired. You make the world feel—” he paused, swallowing. “Safe.”

You let the silence stretch before replying.

“I’m not perfect, Bucky. I cry in the shower. I lose my patience. I bribe my kids with gummy worms just to get five minutes of peace.”

“I don’t care,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re still… good. You made this place feel like home.”

His eyes found yours then—open, vulnerable, yearning.

And you didn’t wait this time.

You reached up and touched his jaw, your thumb brushing his cheek, and kissed him—gently, slowly, with all the quiet affection that had been simmering between you for weeks.

He froze for a heartbeat.

Then melted into you.

His hand found your waist. Yours curled into the collar of his shirt. The kiss deepened until it wasn’t just affection anymore—it was promise. The slow, blooming beginning of something real.

When you pulled back, his eyes were still closed.

You whispered, “You’re safe too, you know. With me.”

Bucky nodded once. Then leaned in to kiss you again.

Weeks passed. The lines between “his” and “yours” blurred.

You found a set of his dog tags in your kitchen drawer. His boots by your front door. His name on your daughter’s drawing tacked to the fridge—Bucky, holding her hand, with a big pink heart overhead.

The first time he stayed in your bed instead of the couch, he didn’t touch you. Just wrapped his arm around your waist and breathed in your hair like he couldn’t believe it was real.

“Still okay?” you murmured in the dark.

“I’m good,” he said softly. “I’m so good.”

And then came the moment you didn’t expect.

You were running late for work, hair half-dried, your son refusing to put on socks, your daughter still looking for her backpack. You felt your patience wearing thin, your chest squeezing tight with the old, familiar panic.

And then Bucky appeared.

He crouched down, smiled at your son, and said, “Hey, bud. Let’s make it a game. Race you to the sock drawer.”

You blinked.

Then stared in awe as your son took off running with a giggle, crisis averted. Your daughter handed over her missing backpack with a shy smile and a “Mr. Bucky found it already.”

You stood there, jaw slack, tears stinging your eyes.

Bucky straightened and met your gaze, a quiet smile on his lips.

“I got you.”

You walked over, cupped his face in both hands, and kissed him hard—right there in the middle of your messy apartment.

He kissed you back like he meant it.

Later that night, once the kids were asleep and the dishes were done, you stood in the doorway of your bedroom and watched him take off his shirt—revealing scars, steel, and that familiar solemn vulnerability.

He saw you staring and paused.

“I know I’m not…” He glanced down at his arm. “Easy to live with.”

You walked over and took his hand—both of them.

“You’re not a burden, Bucky. You’re a gift.”

He said nothing, just kissed you slowly, reverently.

And that night, when you fell asleep with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, you dreamed of nothing but warmth.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Daddy? Daughter Dance

*Get ya head out the gutters y'all. Not the daddy you thinking just some cute Mom Melissa Fluff*

Original Request:Hi, I have a Mel x reader prompt:Reader has a daughter (her and Mel can be or not in a relationship) and Mel shows up in the daughter’s dance class, and in a parents night. Then the reader realizes Melissa is the one

Summary:You are terrified for the upcoming Daddy Daughter dance until Melissa offers to step in and you realize your love may run deeper than you thought

Next Chapter

Masterlist

-

You dreaded the day you picked your daughter up from dance practice and a little pink slip was clutched tightly in her hand. It was that time of year Daddy Daughter Dance. Last year your daughter had begged to sign up with her dad and he promised that he would. Yet a week before practices began, he canceled citing something to do with his girlfriend and suddenly you were out $80 and had a heartbroken five-year-old who only wanted her Daddy. This year the dance studio opened it to more than just dads trying to make it more inclusive to the families that had two moms, single moms, and some non-binary parents. Your heart had overjoyed at this new inclusion that made your daughter a little more relaxed about having two women figure in her life caring for her but you also knew you couldn’t do it. 

Working overnight was exhausting but it was the only thing that paid you enough to support Amari in dance, have a decent house with a small backyard, and keep your older beater Subaru running. You were able to get your daughter to dance and back barely in time to sign onto your computer. There was no way you could commit to even more practices at a later start time. It would break your heart to tell Amari that yet another parent dance would pass her by until she climbed in the car and said the most unexpected thing.

“Can I ask Melissa to dance with me Mommy?” She asked before buckling her seat belt. 

You and Melissa had been dating for over six months having met at Kindergarten round-up when you had started making jokes about the other parents under hushed breaths. Melissa had heard you and had immediately taken to your sarcasm and wit. It was quick and easy with the red head like falling in love with someone you had known your whole life. Amari had been overjoyed to have the “weally nice Ms. Schemmi” that her teacher Ms. Howard talked so highly of over at her house every day. 

Melissa had taken to your daughter easily, as you expected she would. Reading her bedtime stories when work got out of hand for you. Making easy heat-up meals to add some variety to her diet of chicken nuggets and ramen noodles that she had been addicted to since she was four. Playing Barbie dolls with her and allowing Amari to practice her very very subpar makeup skills on her. Melissa loved your daughter like her own it was clear but Amari had always been hard to read. One moment she was so excited the be living with you and other days she was screaming to go to her dad who maybe called her once a month. She had never taken to any of your other partners in the past claiming that “you two timing Daddy” when in all actuality it was your ex who did the two timing during your time together. 

As you regained your composure from her question you stared at her through the rearview mirror, “You really want Melissa to dance with you, honey?”

“Yeah, she is my Mamma,” Your heart melted at your daughter's words, “You still Mommy though. Can't get rid of you.”

You laughed because you couldn't tell if the last statement was a disappointment to her or a compliment and in that moment Amari reminded you so much of Melissa. You promised your daughter you would ask her in the morning when they got to school. You had practiced what you were going to say all night. However, the plan went right out the window when Amari ran right up to Melissa pink paper in hand.

“Mama! Mama!” Amari yelled running right to the redhead.

At the sound of her voice, Melissa turned looking for you and Amari. However, she froze when she realized Amari was calling her Mama. She was pulled from her daze tears etching the corner of her eyes as Amari explained what was happening. 

“Will you do the Daddy-Daughter dance with me, Mama? They are letting Moms do it this year and I think we should do it. Pleaseeee.”

“Of course my lil cannoli. Anything for you. Hand me the paper and I'll sign us up at lunch,” Melissa smiled pushing a beaded braid behind Amari’s ear.

“I love you Mama!” Amari said giving her a tight squeeze before coming to kiss you goodbye.

She slipped into Ms. Howard's classroom as you stepped up to Melissa. A single tear was rolling down her cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb.

“Mel if you don't want to…”

“No I want to do it. I absolutely want to do it,” Melissa said looking at the space Amari had just vacated, “Just never thought I would get the chance to be a Mama.”

“Well you are one now,” You smiled kissing her cheek, “I think she might be putting a hit out on me so you can be her only mom. Still can’t tell.”

“That is my girl. I totally have a guy for that too,” she said and you both laughed.

Melissa kept her word signing up for the dance on her lunch break. She pulled out her calendar scrawling all the dates for practice and rehearsal down. One the first day of practice you were pacing in the living room your nerves getting the best of you. Melissa had never once let you down on her promises but your ex had lied so much when it came to Amari that you had learned to expect the worse. But Melissa pulled up to the door with plenty of time to spare. 

You smiled at her pulled up into a high bun with a Philadelphia Eagles shirt on paired with simple black leggings. She kissed your cheek as you studied her outfit.

“Had to buy new damn leggings for this dance class. Didn’t want the little cannoli commenting on how shabby my other ones are,” Melissa said holding you in her arms as you both waited for Amari.

“She thinks that all of clothes are shabby,” You laughed, “Be safe my love.”

“Always,” She responded before Amari launched into her legs. 

Melissa took Amari to every dance practice from then on out allowing for you to have some calm moments to get ready for work. They came home every day smiling and full of laughter. You knew that you loved Melissa but every time she walked through the door holding Amari’s hand you fell a little bit more. 

Weeks went by till it was finally time for the dance. Melissa had already taken Amari out to get her outfit for the dance however all of it had been kept secret from you. As you sat in the second row of the auditorium you fidgeting nervously waiting for your two girls to come out. You swore your heart stopped as they came onto the stage with the other families. 

Melissa was one of the only females in this group but she stood out for different reasons. Her red curls pooled around her three-piece emerald green suit. The pants clung to her every curve giving away a black vest that showed off just enough cleavage to barely past children dancing appropriately. On top of the vest was a matching emerald green suit jacket that hung open and loose around her.Amari stood next her smiling the biggest smile you had ever seen. Bun pulled up into the requirement for the dance recital Melissa had bought her a black bow with silver sparks to go with it. The emerald green dress your daughter wore had silver jewels across the top with a big princess tool skirt that you knew Amari was dying over. 

You cried during the whole performance as you watched Melissa twirl, spin, and lift your daughter high in the air. They looked so happy together and in that moment you knew that you were going to love Melissa forever. When the dance was over Melissa placed a kiss on your daughter’s head and after their bow Amari rushed of for her next performance. A couple of moments later Melissa joined you among the crowd wrapping her suit jacket over your shoulders. 

As soon as she leaned in to kiss your lips you blurted, “Marry me.”

“Finally,” Melissa smiled cupping your face gently, “I thought you would never ask.”

[rj-anderson]

I've just realized I never posted another update here about how we got my 93-yo mom into assisted living a couple months ago, and it is THE ABSOLUTE GREATEST STORY and I'm still just reeling with amazement over how it all came together, so here it is under the cut.

As you will know if you read my earlier posts about Mom, I've been her primary caregiver for the last few years, especially since my dad passed away in early 2020 (we were able to hold a beautiful, well attended memorial service for him right before the first lockdown, another bit of timing I am still very grateful for).

And as you will also know if you read those previous posts, Mom's mental clarity and ability to look after herself has been going downhill for the last couple years, and despite her overall sweet disposition and gratefulness for everything I was doing, by Dec. 2024 I was at my wits' end and really close to burning out. Only a blessed last-minute increase in respite care, thanks to a pilot program coordinated by my local hospital and Alzheimer's Society, enabled me to keep going while I waited and prayed for a long term care placement for Mom.

That being said, we'd already been warned that it could be up to five years before Mom got an offer, because despite her acute nerve pain attacks, chronic vertigo and increasing cognitive issues, she was not considered to be "in crisis". (I was definitely having a crisis as her caregiver, but that didn't count.) So from an outside perspective, it looked unlikely if not downright impossible that we would find a place within the next 12-18 months, unless Mom had a major health crisis.

Despite that, though, I had a strange deep-down confidence that something was going to change soon. In fact, part of me really felt sure that it would happen by spring at the latest. Now this was a bewildering feeling to have, because I am one of the least mystical woo-woo people in the world, and objectively it didn't seem likely to happen at all. So I found myself praying that God would keep me from clinging to false hopes (if they were false) and prepare me not to be discouraged or bitter if my feeling turned out to be groundless.

But I also found myself praying, "Lord, I don't how this is going to work out with Mom, but I look forward to praising you for whatever you're going to do." Because I remembered how things had gone with my Dad's care, and how the best plans I had in mind turned out to be not nearly as wise or good as the way God arranged it in the end.

Anyway, a number of things happened in December that made me question my belief that Mom would be best off in long term care, despite all the efforts I'd gone to choosing the right places for her. I took her to see the closest home on our list, thinking it would be a positive experience and put some of her fears to rest, but EVERYTHING about that tour was a disaster. It was far too big, and noisy, and overwhelming, and my mom kept saying "I could never go to a place like that, I would be totally lost. I'd rather be out on the street."

So I ended up having to take that particular home off the list, which brought our options from three down to two and made it even less likely to get a room offer. But that experience did make very clear what kind of place Mom wanted -- small, homey, quiet, and easy to navigate, with fellow residents she could talk to, and ideally some opportunity for Christian fellowship. Unfortunately, I didn't know of a single long term care home in our area that fit that description.

Until the first week of January 2025, when I joined my regular Zoom prayer meeting with three women from my old church. And as I was telling them about my difficulties, one of them said, "Oh, I wish your mom could go to the home where [a woman who also used to go to our church] is living! It would be so perfect for her!"

Now, I had heard plenty about that woman and the wonderful Mennonite assisted living home she'd moved into a few months earlier, but I never thought it could be a fit for my Mom. However, after that conversation I looked up the home's website and realized that not only was the place much closer than I'd thought it was, it sounded like they might actually be able to provide the level of care Mom needed.

I called the care home. We had a good, thorough talk about Mom's needs. I set up an appointment for a tour. And from the instant I stepped in the door, I knew this was the place our family had been praying for. Not only was it newly renovated, small, quiet and cozy, offering home-style meals and regular church services, there was a lovely vacant room with a view that immediately made me think, "This is Mom's room."

Long story short -- and skipping over a multitude of other unexpected blessings and mercies of God along the way -- we moved Mom into her new apartment in mid-February. They even allowed us to paint the room her favourite colour, and set it up with all the furniture and pictures she needed to make it feel like home, before we brought her in. And since then, she's been getting all the medical and personal care she needs, I've been able to enjoy regular visits with her while also having a life of my own again, and despite having had twelve acute pain episodes over the six months before the move, Mom has not had even one attack since she got there.

Despite all the hardships, discouragements, seeming dead ends, and other ups and downs of the past year -- even because of them, in some cases -- God has been faithful and very, very good. So I am keeping the promise I made a few months ago, when all seemed utterly hopeless, and praising Him for what He's done.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (17/17)

Part Summary: “I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 7.600+ | Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut Author's note: Wow! Those five months went by so fast. Thank you so much for being with me on this journey. It's been my honor and pleasure sharing with you this story :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV I Part XV | Part XVI

-

“Tell me that your love is a sure thing” - Golden Vessel, Emerson Leif (“Hesitate”)

“Do you think I should ask Y/N to come with me?” Leigh asks, idly twisting a gold bauble between her fingers. She stares at it a beat too long, like she might find the answer in the curve of its shiny surface. 

It's three days before Christmas, and true to Shaw family tradition, they're just now getting around to setting up the decorations. It wouldn't have happened at all if Amy hadn't taken the initiative to remind them. She was supposed to help, but she's vanished again to meet another “friend.” Leigh and Jules are suspicious, thinking their mom might be seeing someone in secret.

Jules, teetering slightly on the ladder, twists around to give Leigh a raised eyebrow. “To the Harrison’s bash for New Year’s? Hell yeah, why not? She’s a blast. Could shake things up a bit.”

“No, not that,” Leigh exhales, now regretting even bringing it up. “I mean the comic book tour for Matt.”

Jules steps down, one rung at a time, until she’s down to Leigh’s level. “Oh. That’s…quite a step. But, why not? Sounds like an adventure for you both,” she says.

Logan zips by, a sheeny red bauble in his mouth, set on a mission to place it next to his bowl in the kitchen. He keeps fetching or chasing after the scattered Christmas balls, sending them rolling all over the house. Leigh and Jules have been running around, picking them up and putting them back on the tree.

“It’s not just that,” Leigh says, glancing out the window where the first hints of evening are brushing the sky. “Asking her to come means asking her to leave everything here behind. Her life, her responsibilities. It’s different for her—she has a real career.”

“Hold up—what we do is a real career too. We’re improving lives with healthy habits, remember?”

Leigh laughs sardonically. “Come on, Jules, we're kinda just floating, working for Mom. Y/N is a doctor, owns her clinic, has staff. That’s...”

“That’s a big deal,” Jules agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s a huge ask, for sure.”

Silence hangs for a beat, the only sounds being Logan’s light panting as he settles down, ornament forgotten. 

“Do you think she'd actually say no?” Jules suddenly pipes up, climbing back up the ladder to resume her decorating. Leigh spots a stray ornament a few feet away, points at it, and calls out, “Fetch!” 

Logan springs into action, scampering to retrieve it. As he returns, triumphant, Leigh gives him a pat on the head and passes the ornament up to Jules.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. She’d jump at the chance,” she tells Jules.

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“She might regret it later,” Leigh says quietly. “And that could mean losing her.”

Jules frowns, understanding the bind her sister is in. She stretches out a hand, and Leigh takes it, their palms pressing cold and warm together. “I’m sorry.”

“And if I leave her here, I might lose her anyway,” Leigh adds, the heaviness of two futures making her shoulders sag. 

Jules gives her hand a firm squeeze. “But what if you both end up regretting not taking the chance? It’s only a few months. Maybe Y/N can sort something out with her clinic?”

“It’s still too risky for her business. She’s poured everything into that place, Jules. Asking her to step away, even briefly—it’s…it’s selfish.”

“Life’s full of risky asks, Leigh. Sometimes, you gotta bet on what’s scary. Risk a little heartbreak on the chance it’ll bring you both something remarkable. Maybe this is one of those times?”

Leigh releases her hand and moves to another bare section of the tree. “Is that the kind of thinking that made you decide to look for your biological parents in Vietnam?”

Jules snaps the tinsel down, her response coming quick and a bit sharp. “Yes.”

Leigh winces slightly, realizing her question might have prodded an unintended sore spot. “I didn’t mean—”

“I get it,” Jules interjects, sighing as she tries to bring the conversation to a close. They’re both dealing with their own issues, and as much as she loves Leigh, she knows she’s not in the right headspace to offer solid advice—especially advice she’s not even sure works.

Leigh clamps her mouth shut. She doesn’t want this to turn into an argument either.

“Maybe just talk to her? See what she thinks? Who knows, maybe the biggest leaps make the most sense when you’re doing them for the right reasons... for the right person,” Jules says after some time. 

“You really think so?” Leigh asks, her voice threaded with hope.

“I do,” Jules nods, her hands busy rewrapping the tinsel Logan has graciously returned. “Just talk to her. It’s either a ‘what if’ or a ‘what now.’ Better to find out which.”

-

Leigh comes with her mouth open, but no sound escapes. Her body trembles as she experiences what she knows is the best orgasm she's ever had—though she remembers saying the same thing about this morning’s quickie in your bathroom. It just seems to keep getting better each time.

You slowly climb up from her pussy, trailing soft kisses along her stomach. As you move upward, you let your tongue lightly trace a stripe across one of her nipples, eliciting a shiver from Leigh. She’s still catching her breath, but when you finally reach her lips, she pulls you in for a deep, consuming kiss. The way her tongue wrestles with yours tells you she’s already eager for more, her hands tangling in your hair as she holds you close.

You break the kiss, smiling down at her. “Hi,” you murmur, almost shyly.

Leigh, still a little dazed, brushes the strands of hair off your forehead and gently traces your lower lip with her thumb. “You know something?” she asks, her eyes wandering over the marks and lines on your face.

“Hm?” 

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “You're kind of amazing,” she says softly.

“That good, huh?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand, which has been cupping your face, slides down your neck before she pulls it back to herself, biting at her index fingernail.

“I’m sure you can tell,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. To emphasize her point, she arches her hips, the slickness between her thighs evident against your skin.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” you sigh, letting your head fall to her sweaty chest. “You’ve completely worn me out.”

Leigh laughs, a soft, melodic sound. “Really? Getting tired already? What happened to your stamina?”

You don’t bother to retort, content just to lie there listening to the rhythm of her heart. “It’s hard work keeping you satisfied,” you say after some time, your voice muffled against her skin.

She tightens her hold around you, the gentle stroke of her fingers in your hair making every thought slow down. The security of her embrace makes everything seem right in the world, and it emboldens you to voice a thought that's been on your mind more and more lately.

“You know,” you start, lifting your head to catch her eyes, “I was thinking… maybe you should move in with me.”

Leigh stiffens just a bit, her eyes darting away for a moment, and you instantly regret how fast you’ve blurted it out. You sit up, trying to backpedal, “Only if you want to, I mean... it was just a thought. You're here most nights anyway, and your toothbrush is already—”

Before you can ramble on, Leigh leans in and silences you with a gentle kiss. “Slow down,” she whispers against your lips, her smile reassuring.

You chuckle, giving her a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Right, right,” you agree, settling back down beside her. 

Leigh shifts to lie on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes, still dark with want, sweep over your body—flushed, soft, and still quivering slightly from your efforts to pleasure her. She catches herself, though, and with a more composed motion, she pulls the blanket up to cover you, tucking it around your chest.

You look up at her, your expression ironically innocent, waiting for her to say what's on her mind.

“I’d love to,” Leigh finally says. “But do you really think it’s the right move?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve just started exploring what this is, what we could be, and I’m already planning to leave. It feels like I’m setting us up for...” Leigh doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Matt's book tour looms over both of you, an ever-present shadow no matter how tightly you try to cling to each other. It's as if you believe that by melding into one with Leigh, you could somehow will her impending departure into nonexistence.

Though before you can say anything, your phone rings from the coffee table beside you. You reach over and grab it, your mom's name flashing urgently on the screen. A quick glance at the time sends a jolt through you—you were to pick her up at the airport but completely lost track of time.

Leigh sits up too, clutching the sheet to her naked torso. “What is it?”

You wince, the irony of the situation not lost on you. “It's my mom,” you explain hurriedly. “I should have left, like, half an hour ago to pick her up at the airport. She’s staying with me for a few days until right before New Year’s.” 

A moment ago, you were discussing moving in together, and now you find yourself needing to ask her to leave. 

Leigh raises an eyebrow, smiling coyly as she realizes the implications of your mother’s arrival. “And let me guess, she's staying here? In your one-bedroom palace?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrambling to get dressed. “Which means I need to air out the place, change the sheets... make it look like I live like a monk.” You stop for a second, looking at Leigh with an apologetic frown on your face. “And I kind of need to ask you to leave now. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Leigh laughs as she swings her legs out of bed and starts gathering her clothes. Once she's collected them all, she steps closer, gives you a quick kiss, and murmurs right next to your ear, “I’m furious.”

You kiss her hair gently before stepping in front of the mirror to check your appearance, making sure you don't look as disheveled as you feel.

“Gives us both some time to think about everything. The tour, us moving in, all of it,” Leigh says, slipping into her jeans.

“Absolutely,” you agree, watching her.

“Change those sheets well, huh?” she teases, zipping up her bag. “You know how moms can be.”

You grimace jokingly at her comment. “Please, don't ever use 'sheets' and 'mom' in the same sentence ever again.”

Leigh laughs again, clearly enjoying you squirm. She slings her bag over her shoulder, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

As you cap your lip gloss, an idea suddenly strikes you. Seeing Leigh's expectant look reflected in the mirror, you ask, “Hey, how about you join me to pick her up at the airport?”

Meeting your mom seems like another huge step in your relationship, but she doesn't hesitate.

“Is it okay with your mom?” she asks, a bit wary.

You shrug, taking her hand confidently. “Why wouldn't it be?”

-

Apparently, you’re the spitting image of your mother.

At least, that’s how Leigh sees it as she watches you both hug it out in the arrival section of LAX. As a fitness pundit, Leigh immediately notices your mom's excellent posture, despite her petite frame. It's the first thing she observes in anyone, and your mom is no exception. Beyond that, you both share the same quick smile and the way your eyes light up in laughter—deep brown, the color of rich coffee, which Leigh finds particularly striking. Even the gestures are mirrored; the way you both tuck hair behind your ear when nervous, or the confidence in your strides.

What distinctly sets her apart from you, though, is how intimidating your mom appears to be.

As you walk to the parking lot, holding your mom’s hand in one of yours and Leigh’s in the other, your mom chats animatedly about a hot spring resort she discovered near your hometown. Leigh keeps half a step behind, doing her best to stay engaged while keeping up with your pace.

“So, how was your flight?” Leigh asks, finding a moment to wedge herself into the conversation.

Your mom barely glances back, responding briefly before turning her attention back to you. “Long, but it’s always nice to spend Christmas with my daughter,” she says, squeezing your hand affectionately.

Leigh tries again. “It's pretty nice weather here, isn't it? I bet it's a lot colder on the East Coast right now.”

“Oh, it’s freezing out there, Leigh,” you chime in, completely oblivious to the awkward interaction between your mom and your girlfriend. 

Your mom nods but doesn't elaborate, her focus still on you. “We should stop by that bakery you always gush about,” she says, eyes bright with excitement.

Leigh's grip on your hand tightens slightly, and she lags further behind. “Oh, that store closes at five. It’s seven already,” you say. 

Desperate to connect, Leigh tries for the final time. “There are special light installations in the park for the holidays. Would you like to go see them?”

Your mom finally looks back, but her smile is thin. “I’m not much into these ‘light installations’. Too much walking.” She quickly shifts back to you. “How’s work been?”

“Work’s been busy, but manageable,” you say, glancing back at Leigh, who offers a small, strained smile.

The three of you continue to the parking lot, the conversation feeling increasingly one-sided. As you reach the car, you open the trunk and help with the bags, all the while trying to think of a way to include Leigh more naturally.

“Leigh and I were thinking of checking out that new restaurant downtown,” you say, making an effort to draw your mom's attention to her.

“Sounds nice,” your mom replies. “But actually, I'm not hungry—just a bit tired.”

Leigh’s expression falls just a bit, but she quickly masks it, helping with the last of the luggage. She figures that’s her cue to leave. 

You can’t hide your frustration. Your plan was to have a nice dinner, a proper introduction. “Are you sure, Mom? It doesn’t have to be a long meal,” you push back gently.

“Let’s just get your mom home, she’s had a long day,” Leigh tells you softly.

You glance at your mom, silently pleading for her to reconsider, but she only smiles. “Maybe another time, dear.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

-

You lead your mom into the living room, urging her to make herself comfortable while you hurry to get the bedroom ready. The sheets need changing, the windows thrown open to freshen the air, and the whole space needs a bit of tidying. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, disappearing into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, you work quickly, stripping the used sheets and flinging the windows wide. You hustle, smoothing on fresh sheets, fluffing pillows, and straightening up—getting rid of all the evidence of what you and Leigh had been doing all week. 

Meanwhile, your mom isn't one to just sit around. She takes in the scattered magazines, the couch cushions askew, and the dishes piled up in the kitchen. With a small sigh, she gets up and starts putting things in order. She straightens up the living room and moves on to tackle the kitchen. Before long, the sound of running water and clinking dishes fills your tiny apartment.

When she’s done setting things in order, she starts rummaging through your fridge and pantry. With only a few ingredients at hand, she decides to make do with what you have. Soon, she's boiling spaghetti and slicing hotdogs to toss into the mix. This dish was a childhood favorite of yours and remains a go-to comfort food. As soon as the familiar aroma wafts through the air, you find yourself irresistibly drawn toward the kitchen.

“Is that...?” you start, a delighted smile spreading across your face at the sight of the generous layer of shredded cheese melting over the thick red sauce.

“Sit down and eat while it's hot,” your mom commands with a warm smile.

You don’t need to be told twice.  Fork in hand, you dive into the spaghetti as though you haven't eaten in days. Considering your usual diet of takeout and quick fixes, that's not too far from the truth. You chat about small, inconsequential things—the new coffee shop you tried last week, the remarkable cases you’ve encountered in the clinic this month, the shows you’ve been watching on Netflix. 

Finishing your meal, you lean back with a satisfied sigh, feeling truly content for the first time in a long while.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“So... what do you think of Leigh?”

“So that’s Leigh, huh?” Your mom pauses, setting down her cup of tea with deliberate care. “The widow of the guy you unknowingly dated for a while, not realizing he was married?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirm, nodding slowly as your nerves start to build. The last time you brought up Leigh to your mom, you were almost ready to throw in the towel until she urged you to give it another shot. Now, more than anything, you're hoping she'll give her approval.

She nods thoughtfully, then with a sly grin, says, “Well, she's definitely out of your league.”

“Mom!” you exclaim, embarrassed.

She chuckles, clearly pleased with her little joke.

“Come on, be serious,” you plead.

Your mom clasps her hands on the table, and gives you that look—the one that means business. You can't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, clearly aimed at getting a rise out of you.

“Leigh seems lovely,” she says. You can tell she’s sincere and that makes you sigh in relief. “And I really appreciate how she tried to engage with me earlier.”

You relax slightly, but then, as you replay the earlier interactions in your mind, you realize Leigh seemed frustrated and your mom wasn’t as welcoming as she usually is. Your face scrunches up as this sinks in.

“Wait, you were really standoffish to Leigh earlier!”

She holds up her hands in a half-shrug, her smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to come off that way at all,” she says. “I guess I was just being overprotective. You know, considering how everything started between you two.”

You appreciate her motherly instincts but wish she'd given Leigh a fairer chance from the start. “I get it, Mom. But Leigh is really important to me now. It would mean a lot if you could try to get to know her better. For me?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she says. “What do you need?”

“Well, for starters…” you start, pausing as you try to find the right way to explain. You're about to share that you'll be spending Christmas dinner with the Shaws this year. It's always been just the two of you for the holidays, so you're not sure how she'll take the news of including others she hardly knows. “You’ll have an opportunity to bond with her the day after tomorrow.”

“What’s on Tuesday?”

“Christmas Eve dinner,” you reply. “At the Shaws.”

“Dinner at your girlfriend’s?” she clarifies.

You nod, your lip catching between your teeth. It still feels a little surreal—exciting, actually—being able to call Leigh your girlfriend. “Yeah, Mom. I thought it’d be nice for us to join them this year.”

Instead of giving an outright yes, she asks, “What should I bring? I want to make a good impression.”

You stand up and walk around the table to give her a hug. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” you mutter into her shoulder. “Maybe bring your blueberry pie? Everyone loves that.”

“You love it,” she says cheerily. “Consider it done.”

Slipping back into old habits, you start clearing the dinner dishes, just like you used to when you lived with her. As you stack dishes and run water in the sink, your mom begins unpacking her bags in your bedroom. As you scrub the dishes, thoughts of following Leigh and leaving everything here behind start to overwhelm you. Once the kitchen is spotless and the last dish is put away, you realize you can't keep these feelings bottled up any longer. 

You call out to your mother as you dry your hands on a kitchen towel. A few seconds later, she reappears in the living room, her face expectant.

“Hey, uhm,” you say, not knowing how to start. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Go on,” she urges gently.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Matt’s comic book is getting published posthumously. The publishing company wants Leigh to join a tour to promote the book, and I'm… I’m thinking of joining her.”

Your mom's expression becomes inscrutable as she processes the information. She walks to the couch and takes a seat. After a long pause, she asks, “What will happen to your clinic here?” 

You look down, fidgeting with the towel in your hands, and then meet her gaze. “I’ve thought about that,” you say. “I’d need to find someone to cover for me. It wouldn’t be easy, but... I feel like I need to be there for Leigh. This is important to her, and… she’s everything to me.”

You try to read her reaction, but every line on her face remains perfectly still and composed. “Is it because you want to be there for her,” she says slowly, “or because you're afraid that if she leaves, you might lose her?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and that's answer enough for your mother.

“Come here,” she says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to her. Wordlessly, you oblige.

“It's okay to be scared,” she whispers. “Loving someone means taking risks. Just remember, you need to be true to yourself as well. Leigh is important, but so are you.”

“I just don’t want to regret not giving my all to see this through with her,” you say.

“You love her,” she states, not as a question, but as a fact.

“I really do,” you say quietly.

“I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

-

Your mom's words stay with you throughout the night. As you lie in bed, you can hear her soft breathing, her back turned to you.

You’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.

Your phone vibrates gently beneath your pillow, and you smile when you see a message from Leigh.

Leigh [10:45 PM]: Can’t sleep. I miss you.

You [10:45 PM]: Miss you too.

She doesn't reply, but she fills your head well into the night. The future is uncertain, but one thing feels right: going with Leigh on her tour is the decision that brings you peace.

-

Christmas Eve dinner arrives sooner than you expected.

Pulling up to the Shaws' house, you're amazed by the decorations that the siblings have tirelessly worked on for the past two days. The house is transformed into a festive wonderland, with twinkling lights draped over every surface, garlands of holly framing the windows, and a towering Christmas tree visible through the living room window, adorned with shimmering ornaments and tinsel.

You watch your mom's reaction as you both step out of the car, seeing the lights reflected in her awe-filled eyes. You beam at her, proud of your girlfriend's decorating skills and holiday spirit.

You and your mom walk up to the doorstep. She clutches her much-loved blueberry pie, which you’re looking forward to having a hearty slice of tonight, while you carefully hold Leigh's gift—a Lego typewriter modeled after a vintage 1950s design. You feel a twinge of nervousness about how she’ll receive your gift.

Moments later, the door swings open to reveal Leigh, all dressed up, and for a moment, you're speechless. Leigh has always been beautiful. No matter what she wears—be it casual joggers, sleek dresses, or even just her underwear—she never fails to leave an impression. Tonight is no different; she takes your breath away all over again.

“Merry Christmas!” Leigh greets brightly. “Almost, anyway,” she adds with a nervous laugh.

“Your decorations are incredible,” your mom says, smiling at her.

“Oh, thank you!” Leigh replies, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected compliment. 

“Where should I put this?” your mom asks, holding up her pie.

“You didn’t have to, but wow, that looks amazing! Come on in, I'll show you,” Leigh says, stepping aside to let you both in. She leads you to the kitchen, where the smells of holiday cooking are even stronger. “You can set it right here,” she points to a spot on the counter already laden with various dishes and desserts.

Just as your mom sets the pie on the counter, Amy walks in. Leigh introduces her mom, and the two women share friendly greetings before Amy’s attention quickly turns to the blueberry pie. They dive into a lively discussion about cooking, swapping recipes as if they’ve known each other for years.

Leigh turns to you, her eyes shining. “I'm so glad you’re here now,” she says softly, her fingers lightly brushing against yours. Craving more contact, you gently grasp her hand and guide her to the backyard where Logan is nonchalantly marking a geranium. With no one around now, you draw Leigh close and kiss her deeply. Leigh responds just as fervently, her hand coming to rest on your waist and then squeezing, making you moan into her mouth. She takes advantage of the moment, slipping her tongue in. Her other hand finds its way to your neck, pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Leigh's eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen, tempting you to lean in once more. Just as you're about to, she finally takes notice of the enormous box under your arm.

“Is that for me?”

“Yes,” you say, handing it to her. “I hope you like it.”

Leigh's eyes widen as she takes her gift, her excitement further lighting up her soulful green eyes.

“I've got something for you too,” she says, giving the box a little shake. “It's upstairs in my bedroom. Want to get it now?”

You shake your head, matching her giddy smile. “Maybe later. If you take me to your bedroom now, I can't promise we'll be back in time for dinner,” you say.

Leigh chuckles. Honestly, she feels the same way. “Well then, can I open this now?” she asks.

“Absolutely! Go ahead. I really hope you like it.”

Leigh quickly starts unwrapping your gift, her fingers deftly tearing through the wrapping paper. As the paper falls away, her eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the Lego typewriter.

“Oh my gosh, it's perfect! Thank you so much!” She carefully places it on the ground before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You're welcome,” you whisper, circling your arms around her waist and pulling her close.

When she pulls back, her eyes are brimming with happiness and something deeper—pure, unfiltered love. She stares at you, her gaze soft and intense, as if she's seeing you for the first time.

“I can't believe you remembered,” she says, referring to a conversation you had weeks prior. “This means so much to me.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

Something in your words strikes a chord within her. Without thinking, she blurts out, “Come with me to Matt's comic book tour.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said. But she doesn't take it back; instead, she buries her face in your neck, breathing in your scent. With each breath, she finds the idea of being apart from you increasingly unbearable.

“I want you to be there with me,” she continues with more conviction. “I can't imagine doing this without you.”

She pulls back slightly, needing to see your reaction. In your eyes, she finds the same depth of love she feels for you, mirrored back at her.

“As you wish,” you whisper, leaning in to seal your promise with a kiss.

-

Dinner is a success, largely due to Amy's and your mom's excellent cooking skills. The pasta prepared by Leigh and Jules wasn't a total disaster, but it had its mishaps. After the first batch turned too soggy—practically mush—Jules had to dash out in the middle of dinner to buy another pack of pasta.

Leigh’s father made a brief appearance with his new family, stirring a bit of awkwardness between the exes. Luckily, your mother defused the tension by suggesting a family game. It wasn’t long before laughter filled the room, with Jules energetically shouting clues at those struggling to guess the words on their foreheads.

In the middle of the game, Leigh volunteers to do the dishes. You offer to help, but Jules quickly drags you out of your seat to be the next one to guess the word. While you’re preoccupied, your mom quietly slips out of the living room and follows Leigh into the kitchen.

Leigh is surprised to see your mom. “I've got this,” she assures her with a polite smile. Despite your mom having considerably warmed up to her, Leigh still feels a bit anxious in her presence.

Your mom simply picks up some dinnerware that has already been washed and starts wiping them dry with a towel. “Do you know why Y/N became a veterinarian?” she asks casually.

Leigh smiles, recalling your story about Max, the first animal you ever helped. “Yes, she told me about rescuing a pup. It was really touching,” she says, her eyes softening at the memory.

Your mom observes Leigh, who has already returned to busily washing the dishes. “That’s right. But there’s more to it,” she says.

Leigh stops what she’s doing and tilts her head. “What do you mean by that?” she asks.

“Y/N did get into veterinary school,” your mom begins, placing a dry plate on the stack. “But she dropped out after the first semester. She had this deep-seated dream of traveling the world.”

Leigh listens attentively, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Her father and older brother are both veterinarians, running a small clinic in our town. Naturally, they encouraged her to follow the same path,” your mom continues, “and while she loved animals, she also wanted to explore every corner of the world ever since she was a kid.”

Leigh's hands pause in the sudsy water as she absorbs every word.

“Her father gave her his blessing, and off she went. She traveled the world for two years.”

“What brought her back?” Leigh asks.

Your mom takes a deep breath, her knuckles whitening as she grips the towel more tightly. “H-Her father and brother were killed in a car accident,” she says, each word seeming to be painfully forced out of her.

Leigh's hand flies to her mouth in horror. “Oh no, I... I didn’t know,” she stammers, feeling a rush of guilt and confusion. Why hadn’t this crucial detail come up before?

“It was a terrible time,” your mom says quietly, “but it brought her back home.”

Leigh is silent, guilt gnawing at her for not knowing such a significant detail of your life. She’s been so caught up in sharing her own thoughts and plans, and you’ve always been the listener, never pressing her to ask about your past. She realizes now how little she’s asked about your family.

Leigh abandons her chore altogether. “W-What happened then?”

“After the accident, without their expertise, we couldn't keep the clinic running,” your mom replies, her voice steadier now but still tinged with sadness. “We had to put it up for sale. It was devastating to lose what they had worked so hard for.

“For a long time, Y/N was depressed. She blamed herself for not being there in the last two years, for putting her own interests first. And with the clinic gone, she felt like she had failed to preserve their legacy.”

Leigh is at a loss for words, her eyes growing bleary. “I’m—” 

“Being a housewife all those years, I suddenly found myself needing to help put food on the table so Y/N could go back to school,” your mom explains. “For a year, she was just a shell of herself, hardly the vibrant person you know now.”

Needing a moment to process all these revelations, Leigh moves to the dining table and sits down. Her legs feel weak at the thought of you being so heartbroken. She knows grief all too well. Losing one person she loved nearly destroyed her; she can't imagine losing two at once.

“Y/N is the most… beautiful, wonderful and well-adjusted person I know,” Leigh says after a while. “I wouldn't have guessed she went through all that.”

“My daughter is a miracle,” your mom states with a soft smile.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” Leigh says sincerely.  “It means a lot to understand what she’s been through.”

Your mom nods and says, “I'm not telling you this just because you're her girlfriend. I'm telling you because I know she’s planning to follow you and leave her practice here in LA behind.”

Leigh's breath hitches as she takes it all in. Learning about your father and brother, she realizes she nearly forgot what she asked of you just hours ago. It's not just a job or a business you're leaving behind—it's a dream that keeps their memory alive, a part of you where they still live on.

“Please, don't ask her to leave everything behind,” your mom says, her voice almost pleading. “Just promise her that you'll come back for her.”

It’s not an easy promise to make—or keep. The mere uncertainty of what lies ahead holds her back. She can't stand the idea of breaking a promise to you or betraying your trust in any way.

Leigh's silence stretches on, and your mom speaks again. “If you can't promise to come back for her, just end it. Don't let it drag on. She's tougher than she knows. It'll hurt, but she won't be alone—I'll be there, and so will her friends and coworkers.”

Leigh balks at her. “I don't want to rush into a decision.”

But your mom isn't listening. Her concern cuts through her caution, compelling her to share more. “After we lost half our family, she was never the same. She’d sacrifice everything for someone she loves, always skeptical of a second chance. She loves like there's no tomorrow.”

It’s the one thing your mother said tonight that rings truest about you. You do love as if it's the last thing you'll ever do.

Before Leigh can respond, Amy walks in, sensing the tension immediately. “Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes darting between Leigh and your mom.

Leigh suddenly realizes she's been crying, and so has your mom. Your mother excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Amy looking concerned and bewildered.

“What was that about?” Amy asks.

Leigh, shaken and overwhelmed, struggles to speak. “I-I need to get the gifts for everyone. They're upstairs,” she stammers, then quickly heads to the bedroom, needing to escape and collect herself.

Amy watches Leigh leave, then reaches for the blueberry pie, trying not to read too much into the haunted look in her daughter’s eyes.

-

It’s a cold January evening when Leigh finally gathers the courage to talk to you. Your mother flew back to Maine three days after Boxing Day, and the rest of the holidays passed by in pure bliss. The two of you are curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, the remnants of dinner still on the coffee table. She’s been avoiding this conversation, clinging to the hope that something might change. But the more she thinks about the family you lost when you were younger, the more convinced she becomes that your mother was right.

“Can we talk?” Leigh’s voice is soft, almost drowned out by the movie playing in the background.

You mute the TV and turn to her, a look of concern immediately crossing your face. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future,” Leigh says slowly.

It doesn’t immediately ring any alarm bells in your head, but your heart starts to race. “Okay…” you murmur. You can't help but notice her hands twisting nervously in her lap. You reach out to steady them, and as she looks up, her resolve breaks.

“I love you. You mean the world to me, but…I don’t know if it’s right for you to come with me.”

You frown, eyebrows stitched together in confusion and denial. “Leigh, what are you talking about?”

She looks away, her hands slipping from your grasp as she inches further into her corner of the couch. “I can’t be the reason you give up everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she says.

“I’m not,” you reassure her, trying to keep calm. “It’s just for a little while, right? Less than six months on tour. And it's not like we'll be non-stop; the schedule allows breaks. We can come back home in between. We’ve discussed this, remember? We have a plan in place.”

Leigh grows quiet, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. She takes a long breath through her nose, as if preparing herself for something even harder to say. “That's the thing,” she whispers. “I might not come back.”

Everything around you stills.

“What do you mean, you might not come back?”

Leigh’s eyes remained glued to the floor. “For the longest time, I’ve thought about leaving. Now that Jules is embarking on her own trip to Vietnam, and Mom is planning a long vacation in Europe, it feels like the best time to explore what's out there.”

“Leigh, we've been planning this together. It's just a tour. We'll be back,” you reiterate in frustration, starting to grasp at straws.

She merely shakes her head. “Everything about this place reminds me of Matt—both the good and the bad memories. Maybe I—”

“Great. The Matt card again,” you snap.

Leigh bristles at your comment. She stands abruptly and begins to pace. Seething. “Card?” she retorts sharply. “This is my life, my pain—”

“And you’ve just been running away from it all!” you counter, standing up too. “Running away from me!”

“Didn't you?” she fires back, her voice breaking. 

“What—”

“Didn't you do the same thing when you lost your—” Leigh can't finish the sentence. It hurts too much to even say it.

You take a step back, shocked. “How did you—”

“Your mom told me.”

The room certainly feels like it's closing in. Unable to stand any longer, your legs give out, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in your hands and massaging your temples. Leigh watches you for a moment, then sits beside you. She reaches out tentatively but pulls back, unsure of what to say or do.

Your hands fall away from your face, and you turn to her, your eyes filled with pain and betrayal. “You learned about me losing my dad and my brother, and your response is to... leave me as well?”

Leigh's eyes fill with tears again, and she looks away, unable to hold your gaze. “It’s not like that,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“What if I promise that the clinic will be okay? Foreman can manage things while I’m away, I trust him,” you suggest, your voice wavering as the reality of the situation starts to consume you.

Leigh shakes her head, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can't,” she murmurs. “I can’t feel good about myself knowing I'm pulling you away from something important to you.”

“But you're what's important to me, Leigh,” you argue weakly.

“That’s not how it works, Y/N,” Leigh says, trying to fight more tears threatening to spill over. “It’s too imbalanced. We don’t need a relationship where one of us is sacrificing too much. That’s not healthy for either of us.”

You sit in stunned silence, her words sinking in. You've always been willing to sacrifice for the people you love, but now you see how it could be a burden for Leigh. 

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, the words sticking in your throat. “And you think the best for us is to be apart?”

She nods reluctantly. “I think the best for you is to not have to choose between your love and your life's work. I can't ask you to put anything on hold, not for me.”

“But I choose you, Leigh,” you say, tears now streaming down your face. “Doesn't that count for something?”

Leigh can’t help herself any longer. She moves closer, needing to comfort you despite being the source of your pain.

“It does,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears with her thumb. “It counts for everything. But I need to know that you're not losing yourself to be with me. I can't live with that.”

With that, she pulls you close. You hold each other tightly, falling asleep on the narrow sofa, clinging to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything.

But by the time the sun has risen high in the sky, Leigh is already gone.

-

There are days when you feel bitter about Leigh deciding to break up with you, especially with weeks still left before the tour begins. You oscillate between anger at her decision and a reluctant acceptance that it might have been the right choice for both of you. More often than not, the anger prevails, leading you to drink yourself to sleep, only to wake up the next day to discover that nothing has changed.

Leigh is still leaving.

-

To your surprise, Amy willingly provides you with Leigh's flight itinerary out of Los Angeles. In the days leading up to her departure, you find yourself constantly formulating and discarding plans. Will you show up at the airport and whisk her away? Convince her to change her mind? Perhaps even show up with your own suitcase, ready to join her if you can persuade her at the last minute that she’s making a huge mistake?

Ultimately, none of your scenarios play out. However, you do find yourself at the airport, arriving ten minutes before her boarding gate closes. There, you spot Leigh standing in the lobby with a small suitcase. In that instant, you feel like you’ve accepted—for real this time—her decision to do this on her own.

You watch from the shadows as her gaze darts around as if searching for someone. Your heart swells with a mix of hope and sorrow, realizing she might be looking for you. You stay hidden, watching as she pulls out her phone and dials a number. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. With your eyes still on her, you answer it.

“Hey, it's me,” Leigh starts awkwardly, as if implying that you might not remember how she sounds. You haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.

“I know it's you,” you reply softly.

“I'm about to board,” she says, and you can hear the reluctance in her voice.

“I see,” you say, struggling to contain the emotions that might slip through the cracks of your nonchalance. “Did you pack some food for the flight?”

She laughs, a tearful sound that squeezes your heart. “Yes, I picked up some donuts.”

“Sounds unhealthy, Ms. Shaw. Try to order some broccoli in-flight,” you tease her lightly.

“I hate broccoli,” she deadpans, her voice layered with a stubbornness you know well.

Then, she asks the harder questions, “Where are you? What are you doing?”

You mull it over, caught between honesty and the need to protect her decision. “I'm just hanging out in the clinic,” you lie, unwilling to reveal that you are there, watching her last moments before departure. “Will you call me when you land?”

She sounds like she wants to protest, but you cut in, “I need to know you're safe. It would really help me to know you're okay out there.”

After a few seconds, she agrees softly, “Okay, I'll call.”

“I’ll wait,” you say. “However long it takes,” you add, leaving the meaning of those words open for her to interpret.

They announce final boarding.

“Listen, I—I have to go,” Leigh says quickly. “Please, take care. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Leigh,” you manage to say, your voice catching as you watch her walk away.

You end the call and pocket your phone. Watching her wipe away a tear and head towards her gate is almost too much to bear. You allow yourself a moment, a small smile playing on your lips, proud of her courage and saddened by her departure. You’ll be waiting for her call, but if it never comes, you'll understand. These moments don't erase the past several months you've spent getting to know Leigh.

And you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

-

At exactly ten in the evening, Leigh calls you from Boston.

[sc0tters]

Best Yet | Luke Hughes

summary: when luke gets the wrong idea of your friendship with ethan you can't help but let your feelings for luke slip.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, underage drinking.

word count: 2.53k

authors note: just like that we are back with the regular fics! this one has been staring at me from my inbox for a while now so it felt right to get it done. I know a lot of you guys wanted it to be done in one part but it didn't feel like the vibes meshed well so due to that keep your eyes peeled for part two soon!

part two

Being Luke’s best friend was the role you had your entire life.

Your moms went to college together so when they learnt they were pregnant at the same time it was of course a matter of destiny. When you were five you moved to Toronto and ended up having Luke a treehouse away from you. Quickly the two of you got known as each others other half as you were never seen too far away from Luke and he the same with you.

Life came at you both quickly as you ended up forever in Luke’s corner and his number one fan who was now watching him almost live out his dreams. Both Quinn and Jack had paved the way for him to become the third Hughes brother in the NHL and Luke wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by.

Draft day was finally upon you both and it was suffice to say that Luke was a nervous wreck. You had been in Toronto still after he moved to Michigan.

It was tough on you both having to watch him leave you “I can come visit?” Luke’s proposal was honestly there to make him feel better too as tears formed in his eyes “you better.” You nodded pulling him into a hug as tears streamed down your face. Ellen and your mom couldn’t help but feel bad about separating you two as it now meant you were no longer y/n and Luke who do everything together. You were now going to have to be y/n and Luke who only see each other twice a year “I’ll text you when I land.” Luke offered making you nod “no you better call me!” To the untrained eye they would think you two had never left each others sides. But you had, and the two months he spent in Michigan over the summer two years ago were total hell for the both of you.

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of their younger brother “dude you’ll see her in December!” Plans had already been made for you to spend Christmas with the Hughes family but not even that felt like enough “now move over and let us hug her.” Jack nodded in agreement as he ruffled his hand through your hair making you groan.

But life had found itself getting in the way of your friendship when you were in Greece the same summer of the draft. Luke was crushed when he realised that you weren’t meant to be back until the week after the draft “Luke honey could you get the door please?” Ellen called out as she heard the knock. With the pandemic it meant the draft was happening from peoples homes “why should I have to?” Luke groaned getting up as he saw that Quinn and Jack were both closer to the door.

Yet when Ellen sent her son an unimpressed look Luke knew that he was best to go and see what was up “yes I’m coming!” Luke complained rolling his eyes until he froze upon opening the door.

There you were with a golden tan that he was certain you got whilst in Europe “surprise?” You smiled bringing your hands up as you shrugged “what are you doing here?” Luke asked as he rubbed his eyes trying to see if he was dreaming or not as he looked at you “you really thought I’d let you get drafted without me here?” You laughed as you shook your head.

What you two didn’t notice was that Jack and Quinn were watching “just hug her you idiot!” Jack groaned as he rolled his eyes waiting to see you hug his brother. Luke didn’t wait for another second as he pulled you into a hug where he continued kissing your head like if he didn’t you would disappear.

The point was that through everything, even the draft, you were there. Even when you were both applying to university you were together.

It was a warm morning when you and Luke hopped onto a FaceTime call “you got your college?” You asked tucking your hair behind your ears as you smiled looking at him. You were in one of his old sweaters as you bounced your legs waiting for him to answer “yep.” He nodded shutting his door as you two agreed to only tell each other about your university applications until you accepted one.

Your moms agreed that it might sway your decisions about where you were going to go if you each knew what the other was doing “promise you wont get sad if I’m not at your college?” You teased making him scoff “I made peace with you not coming to Michigan months ago.” Luke rolled his eyes as your face dropped.

When you didn’t respond it made him raise his eyebrows “you didn’t apply to Michigan did you?” He blinked as you nodded “Umich.” You really didn’t remember the last time that Luke cheered the way that he did hearing you say that “me too!” It was one of those moments that you two seriously wished you were together so you could celebrate this.

Everyone laughed upon hearing the news that you and Luke were finally going to be back together. You were happy to have him back in your life sure. It was great having him back to only being a couple of minutes away from you. But what you never could have taken into account was that you would develop feelings for him.

Sure everyone predicted that it would eventually happen. Even Jack and Quinn were smart enough to know that this was on the cards for you and their brother. But not even having it in big bright letters would have made you believe it. Lo and behold though you were in the midst of watching your love grow strained as Luke found himself trying to get with other girls.

Every party came with Luke flirting with a new girl as he fully lived out his time as a college boy. It was clear he never wanted to settle down. With each new girl who took his attention it only seemed to land up with you hurt. And to top it all off Luke couldn’t even bother to pick up on it “you deserve better peach.” Ethan sighed as he pushed off of the wall to see you quietly nursing a beer.

It made you stare at the ground as you shook your head “doesn’t matter when it’s not what I want.” You had turned down every guy who looked at you since April of your freshman year. You thought that if you showed Luke that you wanted him then maybe, just maybe he would want you too “maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.” Ethan shrugged wanting you to see that you were wanted by someone who was right in front of you.

But as Luke’s laughter echoed in your ears you couldn’t help but shake your head “this is stupid.” You chewed at the inside of your cheek “I’m gonna go.” Ethan watched as you went to leave “let’s to do something tomorrow.” His offer made a smile form of your face.

You nodded as he squeezed your shoulder “I’ll text you the details then.” Ethan announced as if he didn’t already have something planned for his time with you.

The boys were leaving for Tampa the next day so of course the moment the final skate ended Luke was back in your dorm as he sat on your bed helping you get ready for this date. All of the dresses in your closet weren’t worthy as Luke stayed stolen for way too long before muttering something along the lines of “it’s okay.” Before he would point out something he didn’t like about it “since when do you dislike my entire closet?” You scoffed as Luke bought you two of the dresses that he had turned down.

Luke felt bile rise into his throat as he shook his head remembering how the last two hugged your body in all of the right places. It looked a little too good on you for Luke to even consider letting you wear it. If it was up to Luke he would have burnt the red satin fabric so nothing could see you in it again “why do you even care about looking good for Ethan?” Last night when he got back to the house Luke was less than impressed to hear about how Ethan was taking his best friend out.

The one and only rule Luke made the team agree to was that you were meant to be off limits. It had always been the rule amongst his teammates as Luke knew what some guys were like and you deserved better than that “I want to look good for myself.” You corrected him as you had been raised on the idea that dressing up for yourself meant more than dressing up for a guy who didn’t want you.

You hated how quiet Luke was as he sat cross legged on your bed with your duck plushy on his lap. Quacky was something he won for you when you guys were seven at the town fair. Quinn joked that it was your guys’ first chance at being parents to your child. At the time it was something that you brushed off as the sheer thought of becoming a mom especially to Luke’s kids. It actually made you laugh when you looked back on it, going from thinking that the boy had cooties to now having your world revolve around him had you feeling sick.

As you stared at Quacky, Luke couldn’t help but let his mind come out in the form of word vomit “if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like Ethan.” Luke teased watching the color drain from your face. It was the way that the smug look sat perched proudly on his face yet in actuality he was so far away from the truth that you almost wanted to laugh “not him.” You shook your head raking your fingers through your hair.

That answer made Luke feel sick as he raised his eyebrows trying to mask his surprise “is it Luca?” It was clear that the Fantilli boy had always had a thing for you from the moment he met you. The way he left himself tongue tied after most attempts to talk to you had everyone laughing in amusement as they teased him, well everyone but you did and Luke thought he finally knew the reason behind it.

You couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of your nose “Rutger is a guy that could be your type too.” Luke thought aloud as he nodded to himself remembering the times you went for tall blonde guys “no god dammit!” You snapped finally hitting your palm flat against your table as you rolled your eyes. You had to chew at the inside of your cheek in an effort to stop the tears from rolling in.

Part of you refused to let Luke see you like that and the other part of you knew you wouldn’t have enough time to fix your makeup. Once you let your floodgates open you knew they weren’t going to shut.

An irritated laugh left your lips as Luke clearly scanned your face as he grew concerned by your outbreak "you're the one I like!" You blurted out for the first time in your life leaving Luke absolutely speechless. It was crazy how five words could do that to someone you have known your entire life, the one person who is meant to know you better than you know yourself is left with their lips sealed shut and their eyes wide. As if that wasn't meant to bring you comfort already you instead opted to dig the hole you were forming around yourself deeper "which I don't know why I am telling you because it's not like you have even noticed it as you've got your head shoved so far up these girls asses that I'm pretty sure you could see the light of day if you looked hard enough." The efforts you made to not cry were officially thrown out of the window as you raised the back of your hand to wipe your cheek.

Still Luke didn't know what to say, honestly a little surprised that you felt so strongly about the girls he saw "which kills me because you really are a great guy but you aren't letting anyone, even yourself see it anymore!" You were going through an emotional roller coaster similar to grief as you now found yourself getting angry "Ethan saw that I was upset at the party and he said we should go out." Your words finally made sense to him as Luke finally found comfort in the fact that you were going out with one of his best friends in just under thirty minutes.

Your fists clenched as the boy remained silent now staring at the floor as he processed your confession making the room feel heavy "would you just say something please?" You begged as you went to touch his shoulder but the boy was quicker as he pulled away "I-I-I need to think." Luke shook his head as he got up, his ears were ringing and his skull felt like it was closing in on his brain. He was waiting for you to say that this was some kind of sick prank, some kind of joke. Like the YouTube videos where someone jumps out of the bushes with a camera, they reveal that it was all just some big setup.

But as tears streamed down your face and your lip began to quiver Luke felt the pit form in his stomach as reality sunk in. You were in love with him "I'm sorry." Luke didn't know what he was meant to say as he pushed past you when he went for the door of your dorm. He didn't dare look back as he could feel the sound of your sobs attack his heartstrings. Through your blurred vision, you reached for your phone when you collapsed onto the floor needing to call someone, literally anyone to talk to you. But in that moment you knew there was only one person that you could have spoken to "Ethan?" It wasn't clear why you were so hurt by this. You had prepared yourself for rejection as you knew you weren't Luke's type.

Yet even as you had done that, it still wasn't enough. That day Luke hadn't rejected you, but he also didn't tell you he felt the same way. It left you feeling like you were in this awful state of limbo going back and forth between the two options. But not even four days on, Luke no longer needed to tell you how he felt.

The radio silence and the message that you had to get from one of his brothers sealed his feelings towards you practically on the dotted line.

quinny 🧸: what do you think about Luke going to Jersey?

[miniy00ng1]

Die With A Smile

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 1447 (not proofread)

warnings: swearing, death, lmk if i missed anything!

find my masterlist here

hiii lovelies! i absolutely love the song die with a smile and felt it fit super well with tua, so this is the outcome. i actually had two separate ending ideas for this fic, so if you'd like me to release the alternate ending (it's a happy ending) lmk in the comments. as usual pls ignore any grammar errors and i hope you enjoy! thank you <3

-----------------------------------

The Hargreeves Siblings and their families are gathered in the broken down Umbrella Academy. After fighting the giant hybrid monster, Ben and Jennifer, that is consuming everything and everyone in its path, the siblings are trying to come up with a plan of action. 

Five, your husband, has disappeared back to the subway station where he spent several years trapped with you with little hope on finding a way back home. He left in hopes to find something that he might’ve overlooked, a solution to the cleanse. He left you behind to help care towards his injured siblings and in hopes that you could be the brains while he was gone. 

“How the hell do we beat a thing that keeps getting stronger and bigger everytime we try and fight it?” Diego asks in exasperation. The siblings pace the living area trying to figure out how to beat the monster. “It’s only a matter of time before it consumes everything and the world ends…again.” Viktor states matter-of-factly.

At this time, Five blinks into the living room and his eyes immediately finds yours–there’s a look in his eyes of realization and acceptance. You get off the couch and make your way to him, interlocking fingers and giving his hand a comforting squeeze.

“I went back to the subway station and had a very long and strange conversation with me…well multiple mes. But anyways, we are the reason why all of this is happening,” Five continues to explain to his siblings how they should have never existed but they do and that they have caused a shattered timeline. “That must’ve been what Ben was trying to show me back at the department store, he showed me the original timeline. He was trying to tell me that maybe, the cleanse isn’t a bad thing.” Viktor says, recalling the serene scene that was the original timeline. 

Five recaptures his siblings’ attention, “We have to let the Durango merge with the Cleanse. It’s the only way to fix the timeline…” “And what happens to us?” “We cease to exist.” Five replies to Diego’s question, leaving everyone in the room too stunned to speak.

“Absolutely not Five,” Your words come out shaky, “There’s got to be another way.” “Yeah! I’m with Y/N. It turns out, I don’t actually like dying all that much.” Klaus says agreeing with you. Five looks at you with hurt in his eyes, he would never willingly leave you but there’s no other way to save the world. “Y/N, I’ve been through every possible outcome, there’s nothing we can do to stop this. My siblings and I should’ve never existed in the first place. We don’t belong here, we never did.” Your eyes well up with tears, “But you guys do belong, you’re my family, you’re my love Five. If you’re not here, I don’t belong in the timeline either.” Five shakes his head at your words.

“What about our families Five? What happens to them if we cease to exist? Diego asks glancing towards to other room where his children reside. “I’m not sure.” Five says defeated while tightening his grip on your hand. The siblings look at each other unsure of what to do. Allison sits up from the couch, still clutching her stomach from her injuries, “What about that train station? Can you bring them there? Y/N could go with them and make sure they’re safe since she’s been to the station before.” Before Five can answer, Claire enters the room, rushing to her mom.

Five brings you to the side of the room for a little bit of privacy. No words are exchanged as he pulls you into his embrace, his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tight as if you would disappear from his arms. You feel your neck dampen, this is your breaking point. Tears stream down your cheeks as you push your face into Five’s chest, trying to get as close to him as possible. Sobs rack your body, you begin to hiccup as your breathing becomes uneven. 

Five tries to pull away to get you to breathe. You sob harder pulling him tighter, “Just hold me for a little while longer. Please Five, just hold me.” Five responds by cradling you in his arms, placing a gentle kiss on you head, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much. I wish there was another way.”

The Umbrella Academy is a mess of emotions as the siblings say goodbye to their loved ones and accept their fate. You stand with Claire and Lila and Diego’s family waiting for Five to blink you to the subway station. You wave to the siblings that you have grown to know and love so much. Five grabs your hand and blinks the group out of the house. 

“Okay everyone, follow me onto the train, we’re going on a little trip!” You try to put a fake smile on your face to ease the nerves of Diego and Lila’s children. You guide the group onto the train, ensuring that everyone got on before you. After stepping on you turn to face the train door, Five is standing there with a sad smile on his face. The only thing separating you two is a solid yellow line on the platform. The strange announcement that you’ve heard a number of times before goes off over the PA system. You’re heart begins to race, the doors are going to close any second now and this will be the last time you ever see Five. He continues to stare at you.

The doors begin to make noise, signalling that they’re going to close. Your eyes quickly glance between the closing doors and Five. Five’s eyes widen as he realizes what you’re about to do but it’s too late to stop you. Five instead catches you as you stumble into his arms, “What did you just do Y/N?” “I told you earlier Five, you’re my everything. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. If you’re not with me in the original timeline…what’s the point? The world is ending, I want to be next to you.”

Upon your return to the Umbrella Academy, the Hargreeves are shocked to say the least. “Are they safe? Did they make it?” Lila bombards you with questions. You nod in response and she wraps you in her arms, thanking you. “So…what do we do now? Should we say our favorite moments with each other?” Luther asks awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as nerves surge through his body. Everybody shoots down Luther’s ideas and elects to just sit and wait. 

You and Five are seated on a couch, he holds you tight. He wouldn’t say it but he was scared shitless. You read him like a book and bring your lips to his ear, “It’ll be okay Love. I’m right here with you and I wouldn’t change my decision.” He turns his head to look at you and gives you a kiss that says everything he needs to. 

Suddenly, a shrill screech and crash can be heard outside the house. “You guys! I think he’s coming and I don’t think he’s happy.” Luther calls out while looking at the large monster approaching. Five grips your hand and stands up at the announcement. You and the Hargreeves move away from the window and form a circle on the other side of the living room. The monster hybrid’s tentacle-like appendages bust throught the glass window by the front door first. Then the window by the main stairway. In no time the tentacles were approaching the siblings from every angle.

“Relax and just let it do what it wants.” Five calls out to his siblings as the tentacles begin to reach their feet. Five looks at your intertwined hands and smiles, “I know I was a hardass, but I really do love you guys, as much as you do drive me crazy.” “Ew Five, I know we’re dying or whatever but don’t get all sappy on us now.” Lila says with fake disgust. “Thank you for letting me be in your crazy family. I love you guys so much.” You chime in, a tear slipping down your face. Lila reaches out to grab your left hand. Tears are now streaming down everyones faces as they hold hands with one another. The tentacles now enveloping up to their stomachs and climbing higher and higher.

You turn your head to look at Five and he mirrors your movements. It is now up to your chin and before you world goes dark, you’re able to make out Five’s final three words–said with a smile.

taglist:

@ohmyitsfaith @clairoscharm

[feyhunter78]

The Hunt (But Fun)

Description: Rewrite old memories, make them positive, make them fun. Natalie and Travis will try their best and maybe win a prize. (AKA the making out against a tree I promised)

It’s an Easter egg hunt, meant for the whole family, brightly colored plastic eggs hidden throughout the trees on Travis’ grandparents’ property. There’s so many people here, but she guesses that makes sense, apparently Travis’ grandma has like five siblings. It’s supposed to be fun, even the adults play, and Reyna tells them it’s alright if it’s too much for them, if it brings up bad memories. But Marco—who Natalie thinks is still a little wild despite what Travis said—and his wife Lisa tell them that the family gets really competitive. Reyna is probably trying to psych them out. She doesn’t believe them, but it does make her laugh.

It snowed the night before, not super rare but not the norm for this time of year, and Natalie smiles at the sight. They’ve decided, her and Travis since everyone searches in pairs of two, that they’re going to try to use the egg hunt as a way to “reframe” the sight of woods. Reframe the feeling of running through snow, everything that goes into a hunt. They’re going to try to have fun, to make good memories.

So, now they stand at the starting line, taking stock of the other members of Travis’ family, discussing strategy.

“So, who’s our biggest competition here?” She asks, zipping her jacket up, watching as everyone pairs off.

Travis tucks a loose piece of hair beneath the band around her forehead like he did back then, eyeing the others over her shoulder. “Simon and Cami are fast, but my mom and cousin Gabriel play dirty. If you hear them saying one of them is hurt, ignore it, they fake an injury, and someone falls for it every year.”

“Got it, what about Marco and Lisa?” She nods to the pair a little ways down, who are doing some kind of secret handshake.

He tugs the collar of her jacket up. “They usually hang back and see who’s winning, then try to see if they can trail them, but I’m not worried, they won’t be able to keep up with us.”

“And the kids?” She eyes the gaggle of children milling about, all of various ages.

“The kids know there’s a smaller egg hunt in the backyard for them afterwards, this is just to tire them out, so they don’t run wild during lunch.” He says, squeezing her shoulders before turning towards the woods.

He has their basket in his hand, and she almost laughs at how stark the contrast is between his dark colored jacket and the pastel ribbon covered wicker basket.

“So, no need to go easy on them, then?” She asks, itching to run, her shoulder feeling too light, the weight of the gun missing.

“I think we can sweep this and watch from the porch as the losers come trailing back.” Travis says, falling into the same stance as before, back when they hunted to survive, smiling wolfishly.

She laughs, returning his smile, senses sharpening as she breathes out and focuses. “Let’s do it then.”

The air horn sounds, Mara holding it above her head, watching with an almost fanatical glee as everyone races into the woods like a Roman emperor at the coliseum.

“She can’t participate in the egg hunt anymore, so she lives vicariously through us.” Travis explains, catching her line of sight before jerking his head towards the woods. “Come on, huntress, let’s show them how it’s done.”

She’s silent as she moves, Travis a few steps behind, the woods filled with crunching snow, shouts of excitement and people rustling through the undergrowth. It’s almost too easy, a couple of months hasn’t dulled her eyesight, and the Easter eggs are much easier to spot than woodland prey. She darts forward and pulls another egg from the roots of a tree, tossing it back to Travis.

They continue to wind their way through, pausing every so often to listen, communicating wordlessly, a thrill running through her with each egg they find. She feels alive again, the brisk air filling her lungs, adrenaline pumping through her veins. They come upon a clearing, and they hover at the edge of it, hidden within the treeline. A medium-sized plastic egg sis in the center on a tree stump, pastel purple glitter sparkling in the light.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know they were bringing that back.” Travis whispers, his breath fogging in the air.

“What is it?”

“Bonus egg, whoever gets it first, gets first slice of my Great Aunt Cassie’s chocolate pie, it’s really good like Godiva or something.”

“Well, let’s get it, then.” She smiles, scanning the clearing. She fucking loves Godiva.

At the opposite edge of the clearing, she sees Simon and Cami, their blue jackets like a signal fire. Cami heads for the egg.

“Shit Nat go.” Travis urges, taking a step back to give her space.

She bolts into the clearing, eyes on the egg, outer field of vision registering Cami as she draws closer. It doesn’t matter if Cami is fast, she’s not as fast as her, it’s always been her claim to fame, she’s the fastest on the team, fastest in the wilderness and here on open terrain? Easy as pie, the pie she's going to devour when they get back.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Cami yells, eyes wide with surprise still at least ten feet from the stump as Natalie swoops in and grabs the egg, pivoting and running back into the trees a few feet from where she exited.

Travis is already waiting, and he holds out the basket. She drops the egg in, and they keep moving, stalking through the trees as he counts the eggs in their basket. “We just need two more.”

The last egg is up in a tree and Natalie holds the basket while Travis pulls himself up, scaling the branches with ease.

“What’s in these anyways?” She asks, shaking one of the eggs.

“Jellybeans, other types of candies, maybe coins or cash?” He answers, dropping down beside her, brows furrowed like he can’t understand why she’s asking that question. “Like every Easter egg is, for probably as long as it’s been a commercial holiday?”

She can’t remember the last time her family celebrated Easter, but she’s pretty sure whenever they did the eggs were empty. Her face burns, and she looks at the snow dusted dirt, handing him the basket back. “Oh, I thought that was just in movies or whatever.”

“Don’t let my Abuela hear that, or you’re going to have to do the kids’ egg hunt too.” He laughs, holding their final egg up to the light. “Yeah, this one has jellybeans in it.”

She presses her lips together, feeling stupid for feeling embarrassed, but she can’t help it. Sometimes she can forget that Travis had such a different, better childhood than her. But then there’s times like this, and it's so blatantly obvious she feels like there’s a neon sign on her forehead blinking poor and parents didn’t care. “Can I have some?”

He gives her a look, soft and tender, noticing her curling in on herself because damnit she can never actually hide from him, and pops it open, showing her the brightly colored candy inside. “Yeah, Nat, of course. Have them all.”

She tries them individually then all at once, the saccharine sweetness of them making her teeth hurt.

“Are they any good?” He asks, popping a few in his mouth from a different egg.

“They’re really sweet.” She says, her nose crinkling involuntarily.

“That’s the issue with them, can’t have too many in one sitting. Oh, this one has chocolate in it. Want a kiss?” He offers her a Hersey kiss wrapped in pink foil.

She knows he means the chocolate, obviously, but she takes the opportunity anyways, grabs the front of his jacket, and kisses him.

His arms go around her, the basket thudding into the snow, as he pulls her closer, his lips parting beneath hers, the taste of jellybeans on their tongues. He backs up until she has him pressed against the tree, his hands burning through her clothing as his fingers take root in the back of her jacket.

“Can I have another?” She asks when they part for air, her lipgloss smeared on his lips.

“Yes, fuck yes.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, bringing them back together his lips warm against hers, heat radiating throughout her body.

“You’re so sweet.” She says, hands inching up, seeking the warmth of his skin.

“It’s the jellybeans.”

She pulls back to look at him, fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck. “No, it’s just you, Travis. You’re sweet, you’re always so sweet to me.”

He blushes, blushes, and it makes her almost giddy. “Nat…come on, how can I not be sweet to you? You’re my girl.”

Now it’s her turn to blush. “Shut up.”

His hands settle at her hips, still warm like a radiator. “I mean, it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, don’t be stupid.” She says, undercutting any potential harshness in her tone—because she knows she can sound harsh even when she doesn’t mean it—with a featherlight kiss to the corner of his lips.

He smiles and leans his head back against the tree, just basking in it all they way she does when she wakes up and his arm is still slung over her waist. She takes the opportunity to press her lips to his pulse point, trailing down slowly, biting back a smile when his grip on her hips tightens, and his breath catches. “N-Nat.”

She hums in response, trailing back up, careful not to leave any marks until she reaches his lips, looking up at him through her lashes, sliding one hand from his neck to cup his cheek. “Yes?”

“That’s so unfair, you can’t just look at me like that.” He groans even as he smiles down at her.

She bats her eyelashes the way Jackie taught her to years ago when they were both drunk at some lame party. “Like what, Trav?”

“You know.” He says, using his strength to flip them, his hand cradling her head, his lips ghosting over hers as he gives her a look that is definitely inappropriate for a Sunday morning at his grandparents’ place.

She’s always thought his eyes were beautiful, ever shifting shades of brown from the intoxicating hues of sunlight whisky to the depths of fresh soil primed and tiled in order for new life to grow. They’re what caught her attention when they first met and ever since then she’s been ensnared by them, fascinated by the spark within them, embers flickering like a low burn in a fire pit, or fireflies in summer skies.

She tilts her head, brushing her thumb over his lips. “Do I?”

He chuckles breathily, burying his fingers in her hair then crashes his lips to hers, body pressing hers further into the tree trunk, devouring her, heated lips and sugar sweet tongue taking her under.

She clings to his jacket, hand on his cheek going to his hair, a quiet sigh escaping her when he attaches his lips to her throat, pressing searing kisses to the sensitive skin. “Trav-Travis be careful, you can’t leave a mark, they’ll see.”

He flashes her a smile that makes her knees weak, as he unzips her jacket revealing the slightly low-cut blouse she wore underneath before he tugs it down further.  “Guess I just have to go lower then.”

Her breath hitches, when he dips his head, the ends of his hair ticking her skin, and she bites her bottom lip. “You’re lucky, you’re cute.”

He nips at the exposed flesh in lieu of a response, and she bites harder on her lip trying to stay quiet, her grip on his hair tightening. Excitement flares through her as he mouths at the skin, the cool air in direct contrast to the heat of his lips, the sting of his teeth. She probably should tell him hickeys don’t require teeth, but she learned long ago they both like it better this way.

“You’re so pretty, Nat, and so soft.” He says, kissing his way back up to the hollow of her throat. “And you smell nice, too.”

He sucks at the spot where her neck and clavicle meet, and her words come out breathless. “Thanks, new perfume.”

“Keep using it.”

“Okay.”

His hand skates up her side, and he smiles, she loves it when he smiles. “Thanks for coming to this with me.”

She’s got a bit of whiplash from the subject change, but she tries to clear her head, blinking a few times. “Yeah, of course.”

He kisses her again, slowly, deeply, sweetly, holding her like she’s made of glass, and she wants more, nipping at his bottom lip to covey her silent need.

A twig snaps a few feet to their right, and they freeze, senses on high alert. After a few seconds when there’s no other disturbances, they break apart, Travis grabbing the basket, Natalie leading the way as she readjusts her clothing, zipping her jacket back up.

They reemerge at the starting line, holding hands, and Mara smiles when she sees them. “Looks like we have our winners.”

“Travis told me there’s a pie we get first crack at?”

Mara takes the basket from Travis. “Yes, you’ll have to wait until everyone is back, though.”

Daniel, Travis’ granddad, leads them inside, seating them on one of the couches in front of the fireplace. He’s a quiet man but kind, he and Travis have the same nose.

Simon and Cami come in a bit later, the others trailing behind them, and Cami’s eyes narrow when she sees Natalie. “Natalie, what is Reyna feeding you? You were like a speed demon or something.”

“She was a star soccer player, Camilla.” Mara reminds her, unveiling the pie Natalie has been waiting for since she snatched up the bonus egg.

Cami shakes her head but laughs. “Fair, fair, but next year we’re going to beat you two.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Travis says, slinging an arm over Natalie’s shoulders. “Nat and I are the dream team.”

Marco ruffles Travis’ hair as he passes by to warm his hands by the fire. “Look at our little Travilito, all this confidence now that he’s got himself a girlfriend.”

Travis pushes his hands away. “Screw off.”

Natalie stifles a snicker, sliding from beneath Travis’ arm to take a plate from Mara mouthwatering as she digs her fork into the chocolate pie, a dollop of whip cream near the crust. It’s delicious, melting on her tongue, rich and sweet. Yeah, she’d be down to do this again next year.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my June 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Oxford AU Series by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (130k)

Come As You Are  (77k) “I think it could be like this all the time,” Harry says. “I know it doesn’t make sense but I think you should consider it. I could make you happy if you let me.”  louis is a professor of literature at oxford and harry is his newest and most eager protege. both are caught in a story about forbidden love, loss and second chances, in which one is on the brink of heartbreak and the other comes along when he's needed most. Overwhelmingly You (47k) more reflections post-oxford. Notes on Oxford (5k) glimpses at life before, during and beyond oxford, in no particular order

Satellite by suspendrs / @suspendrs (100k)

“It’s been three years since I’ve had a proper hot meal,” Louis says finally. “I have no idea where my family is, or if any of them are even still alive. The only reason I’ve been able to keep myself alive for as long as I have is because I keep to myself, stay guarded, stay hidden. It’s the only way I know how to live,” he says.

Harry wants to cry, but he tries to put on a brave face when Louis finally meets his eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to be so guarded around me,” Harry says quietly, earnestly.

 “That’s very sweet of you,” Louis says, putting his fork down. “But yes I do. Especially around you.”

Or, Louis needs a house. Harry offers him a home.

Just Pretend by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (90k)

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

Into The Midnight Sun by summerwine @smrwine (63k)

Every day without Louis was a never ending blue Monday. Every day went without his sweetness and warmth and the radiant colours of his flame. The tenor of his voice became unfamiliar and muddled between going so long without the sound of it and getting lost with every other voice clouding Harry’s memory.But he was here now, warming Harry’s bones with lips like summer. Every moment in his arms felt like a Sunday stroll through London. Beautiful and stormy and feeling every bit like home. or, It's 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn't easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

Everything of Mine Is Yours by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (33k)

"Did you two have a good time?”

Harry in his bathroom, brushing his teeth with frizzy hair and tired eyes. Harry on the couch cuddled up with Posy, cradling her in the crook of his elbow, humming a soft song. Harry laughing with his friends in a pub on a Friday night, a flower field in his eyes. Harry in his bed tucked under the covers, naked against fresh sheets like a shock of moonlight cutting through a storm.

“Yeah,” he says. “We did.”

or: With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better) by haztobegood / @haztobegood (3k)

Five times it's raining and one time it stops.

Spoon Time by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow (2k)

There was nothing going on between them outside of the normal bro-pal-laddy-dude things every other set of best friends did. All sets of best friends did things like this. You know, hanging out every day, staying up late, and chatting until the wee hours which usually ended up as a sleepover and bed-sharing. There is nothing going on between them.

That is what Harry was going to keep telling himself and everyone around them, anyway because it is the truth, after all.

[def-not-kaz-brekker]

no no but monster is probably my favorite epic song because ooohhhh myyyy goooddddd it’s like the entirety of the musical so far has been building up to this

Like “is the cyclops struck with guilt when he kills, is he up in the middle of the night? Or does he kill my men to avenge his friend and sleep, knowing he has done ‘em right”?? like in ‘my goodbye’, (end of cyclops saga) Odysseus is already having trouble sleeping (“what’s a title that a goddess could lend, if I’ll never sleep at night?”) LIKE OKAY JAY OKAY

“when the witch turns men to pig to protect her nymphs is she going insane? Or did she learn to get colder, when she got older, and now she spares them the pain”?? Odysseus references how long it’s been, time passing, in ‘there are other ways’ (“but it’s been twelve long years”)

“When a god comes down and makes a fleet drown, is he scared that he’s doing something wrong? Or does he keep us in check so we must respect him, and now no one dares to piss him off?” Pretty obvious; in ‘ruthlessness’ when poseidon says “in all my years of living, it isn’t very often that I get pissed off”

“Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping Trojans because he is vile? Or does he throw away his remorse to save more lives with guile?” tbh I’m not sure on this one but could be Odysseus’ internal turmoil in general ORRRR the fact that he decided to drop the baby from the walls of Troy to save his family (“save more lives with guile”)

AND THEN AND THEN [agh I love this song so much]

The “ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves… and deep down I know this well” BROTHER YOU HAVE ME ON MY KNEES

“I lost by best friend, I lost my mentor, my mom, five hundred men gone— this can’t go on!” JFC

“I must get to see Penelope and Telemachus!” ALWAYS THE SAME WAY OF SINGING THEIR NAMES OH MY GOD THIS KILLS ME

“so if we must sail through dangerous OCEANS AND BEACHES, ILL GO WHERE POSEIDON WONT REACH US, AND IF I GOTTA DROP ANOTHER INFANT FROM A WALL IN AN INSTANT SO WE ALL DONT DIE—“ dead, oh my god.

I have a lot of feelings about this and feel free to add more thoughts on this

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter five: know who to call or the one you tried to protect yuji itadori.

warnings: mei mei mentioned, ryomen sukuna, insane sorcerers + assistants.

word count: [1.7K]

kill count: [1]

“I’ll be away for a week”, Satoru repeated. “My flight is due tonight.”

Sunglasses on your nightstand, he stared at the ceiling and beyond. Your fingers grasping around the wooden box, a lost nightingale flying in circles above the training grounds, a pebble rolling down the mountain. He wished the world moved slower.

You stared at a new sash, prayers on emerald sewing line. A talisman whose sole purpose is to make you weaker. Wrapping it around your robe, you ignored the bittersweetness on your tongue. Fancy leash, Satoru said once. It was the truth, not that he had the right to say it out loud.

Restricted, you threw the old one away and ignored the hint of rottenness it left in the air. It took four days until your cursed energy drained the strength of Tengen’s limiting barrier. Back against the headboard, you tried to tuck strands of hair away from his eyes. Your fingers couldn’t quite reach him. It never stops you from trying, hoping one day to catch Satoru with his guards down.

A lifetime ago, he used to ask you to braid his hair. You don’t remember much from your childhood, but you remember his toothless smile. It makes you want to laugh. It’s been months since you’ve last touched Satoru, yet Shoko kicked him not a week ago. It wasn’t appropriate, so you suppressed the laughter.

“Itadori will be dead within a week”, you said. Someone had to. “Probably during a mission, definitely in his dorm if he survives the first attempt.”

When it comes to special grades, it has been just the two of you for a long time. No one expects Yuki to interfere, Okkotsu is a student still. When a special grade sorcerer is needed anywhere around the country, you are the one travelling. That’s how it has been since Satoru was nineteen, and you were a second-year student.

His presence alone is enough to keep the scum of Tokyo on check—be it curse, be it human.

“I could stay”, Satoru sighed. “Or make him travel with me. The three of them, so it looks like I’m teaching them. I would be, in a sense.”

“And it would only delay his death for another month a best.” An idea began to shape itself in the corners of your mind. Phone in hand, you searched through your contacts. “We need to avoid schemes permanently. A sign impossible to ignore.”

He chuckled. It echoed in your empty dorm. “What could make anyone forget about the King of Curses?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe if Itadori died and came back”, a smile spread across your face. You lay down, facing him. “If only every sorcerer was like Mei Mei. All we would need to do is give them money and the boy would live happily ever after.”

“Would she take the job of keeping him safe?”, Satoru asked. It surprised you to see he took your joke seriously. “We have more money than she knows. Who wouldn’t want to make a deal with the leaders of two clans?”

Mei Mei seeks good negotiations like a ravenous hound. Protection for the boy, and triple what anyone offers her that goes against this deal to do nothing but what they already pay her for. She can decide over the currency.

You know she would agree to that. As long as money is involved, there is little Mei Mei wouldn’t do. Even if money is involved, there is little she holds dear enough to offer unending loyalty.

“My mom is still alive”, you turned your phone towards him. Satoru opened his eyes, mockery almost palpable on his gaze. “And I expect the head of a clan to know better than trusting a fly to distinguish between shit and honey simply because you assume anyone would care about the difference.”

“And your genius plan to save Itadori permanently is trusting on him?” Satoru rolled his eyes. “How desperate. You’re running out of good ideas.”

“I don’t need to trust him”, you smirked—a bad habit you picked from him. “I surround myself with competent people. The sort of people that do their job and do it well for no other reason than someone having to. Those are people that you don’t need to trust, you simply need to know.”

You wanted to get a reaction out of him. Instead, your fingers brushed against his hair. “Yeah”, Satoru whispered. It was so soft. “I know one or two like that.”

--

It took the entire morning to organize everything. Each cursed tool had a document to be filled with your permission and a manager to download it into the new system—a slow process that made you regret voting on Ijichi’s suggestion to optimize the control of who is in possession of each weapon.

Satoru’s method is different, more direct than yours. He makes his students fight curses right away to test their capacities. To see if they’re crazy enough to survive this world. You rather start with the basics. After practicing with cursed tools, your next classes involve analyzing each of their techniques individually. Only then do you test them outside the school.

Your students will come back soon, and so will Satoru. There will be no opportunity for you to train those three as you desire, but you will do your best with the little time you have. Duels for now, then Satoru deals with the rest using his own crude ways.

Protected by trees, you waited for them with a book in your hands. It’s been a month since you got it from the campus library. You don’t have free time to sit down and read, so you bring it everywhere with you and hope to devour a few pages.

You were two lines in when the sky darkened. Moving onto the basketball court, you left it on a table and tried to reorganize all tools in the order you would use them. Satoru opened the door a couple minutes later, waving as his students walked inside.

“We just got back from a fancy restaurant”, Yuji stopped beside you. Eyes exploring all the tools in display, he handed you a warm lunch box. “I had to fight them not get you pasta, sensei. Your do rather fish, right?”

The frustration you accumulated vanished away. “You’re the best, Itadori.” Using all your determination, you put it aside to finish this lesson before eating. “Wait. How do you know that?”

Yuji grabbed your book, shrugging. “The Book of Odes”, he murmured. Flipping through the pages, his brows furrowed. “Are those poems?”

Dismantled, Yuji’s mimicry is empty. Acting on behalf of others, Yuji moves closer because he wants to understand them. He pays attention and gains nothing out of it. For such a short time together, Sukuna already knows everything there is to discover about Yuji and his unwavering humanity. He cannot stand it.

Openly weak, how could Sukuna not fantasize about the ways he could rip his soul apart? Sukuna plans to show the brat what knowing someone can get you. There is no doubt in his mind. Sukuna knows the body will be his, because he knows Yuji already accepted his fate is to die to protect others.

Sukuna is patient, waiting until his chance to show how different they both are. How guilty Yuji is simply by breathing still.

“Songs, odes, hymns. Few things interest me more than a warm meal and ancient poems. Outside of a good fight, but that’s obvious”, you said. Patting Yuji on the shoulder, you gestured towards the training mats. “Time to stretch.”

You took a spear from the table, absentmindedly training with it as you ordered the other two around. Yuji stood still, holding the book for a moment longer than he wanted to. Waiting for the pair of eyes moving beneath his own to disappear, he wondered if Sukuna had read it before.

You called it a classic. Could it be old enough to be known by him? Could it be something he loved? This book, poems or simply reading at all. Does Sukuna love anything besides violence? Because he must love violence. Itadori don’t think there is a way to do the same thing again and again without it being for love.

If he can love, is Sukuna that much of a curse? His words are sharp-edged, eyes curious at times he doesn’t expect. Poking inside Yuji to see if it hurts, Sukuna feels human. Cruel and ravenous, but so many humans are.

Yuji will ask you once this lesson is over. If curses can feel something beyond the need to destroy. You must know the answer. Yuji hope you can help him understand Sukuna. Lately, he wants nothing more than that.

(He protected my school, it is something Yuji cannot forget. For a time, his cursed finger protected my school. It needs to mean something. I’ll make it mean something.)

--

“Your left flank is wide open”, you hit Nobara’s ankles with the spear. As she got up from the floor, you showed her how to position her feet correctly. “That’s the third time, Kugisaki. Don’t let a mistake turn into a pattern.”

“Megumi didn’t hit me”, she murmured. Anger aside, Nobara imitated you. You like that about her. How she feels deeply. “You did.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You grabbed it, putting the spear down as you read the notification. “I’m not training you to win against him”, you said. “I’m training you to do better than me. For now, focus on your posture.”

A new mission. Searching the city’s name, all you found were a couple news about an abandoned soy farm. The estimation is that it’ll be a four-days mission. You bet it has something to do with it taking two days for you to get there and then back again.

Starting tomorrow morning, the scum of Tokyo will move freely.

It took three seconds for him to answer your call. “Hello? Is everything alright? I thought you had no missions today.”

“Can you do me a favor? I’ll pay it back”, you started. His silence made you continue. “There is someone I’m afraid of getting hurt. All I need is for you to keep an eye on him and call me the second you feel something wrong is about to happen.”

“Just that?”, he hesitated. “I can. I mean, I’ll do my best.”

“You always do, Ijichi-kun. That’s why I can always count on you.”

--

Three days later, Yuji Itadori lost his heart.

taglist: @snowsilver2000

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[tammyjackson50-blog]

Life After High school with Eddie - E.M headcanon

First of all, Eddie swears he only graduated because of you. Like, he knows for a fact that if you hadn’t been making him study,he would still be stuck in Hawkins High for another year. “I can’t believe I’m free.” “You’re free because I forced you to do your homework.” “And I will never stop being grateful, my beautiful, terrifying girlfriend."

He still works at that old record store, which he keeps saying that is temporary while he figures out his music career, but let’s be real,he loves it there. Free records, 80's vibe, interesting customers, and unlimited opportunities to force you to listen to his weird underground metal finds. “Babe, this band sounds like they were raised by wolves in the best way.” “Eddie, they’re literally growling.” "Yeah. Exactly."

He gets dragged into visiting Family Video all the time because Steve and Robin work there, and you’re convinced he secretly enjoys their chaotic energy. “I’m telling you, Steve, ‘The Lost Boys’ is basically a metalhead’s dream.” “Eddie, it’s a vampire movie from the 80's.” “Yeah, and? You don’t think I’d be a sick vampire?” “Dude, you already dress like one.”

Robin loves to mess with him. Loves it. She once made a spotifiy playlist named “For Eddie’s Sensitive Little Heart” that was just an entire Taylor Swift album. “Admit it, you liked at least track five.” “I will be stealing some of these lyrics for my own music, but that’s beside the point..."

Dustin comes by the record store all the time, mostly to bother Eddie but also because Eddie has way too much free time and helps him pick out the coolest albums. “Okay, kid, listen, this band? Life changing.” “Eddie, this album is older than my mom.” “And yet, it still kicks ass. So show some respect.”

Eddie’s YouTube channel takes off after Dustin forces him to do a video teaching people how to play Metallica riffs. The comments are insane. Half the people are thirsting over his hands, and the other half are begging for a full tutorial.

(gif is not mine) “I think I have fans.” “Yeah, baby, they love you.” “Bet you’re regretting this now, Henderson. Soon, I’ll be too famous to hang out with you peasants.” “You still live with your uncle, dude.”

Late night gas station runs are a tradition. You two pull up on his motorcycle, and end up sitting on the curb outside, sharing some snacks and talking about life and random stuff. “Okay,so five years from now. Where are we?” “Touring the world, obviously. You’re my badass roadie slash partner in crime.” “And what if I want a normal job?” “Then I’ll be the cool boyfriend who picks you up from work on my motorcycle and makes everyone jealous.”

He lets you wear his Hellfire shirt that he has for years now to sleep sometimes, and it’s way too big on you, which he loves. He’ll wrap his arms around you, nuzzle into your neck, and mumble about how cute you look. “Keep it, babe. Looks better on you anyway.” “Eddie, this is your favorite shirt.” “And you are my favorite person, so it evens out.” _______

Have't read or made an Eddie ff in a while now haha.