#not pictured: the 5 more empty packs in my apartment

[sarcasmic-skies]

[230914] philip morris usa owns my ass, exhibit b:

[nariism]

come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him—  hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow? 

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help. 

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you. 

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[she-karev]

The Girlfriend and The Dog Meet (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

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A post shared by Giacomo Gianniotti (@giacomo_gianniotti)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

AN: So, I know it’s late but August 26th was international dog day and I wanted to write a story surrounding dogs because they are god’s gift I speak as a dog mom. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: DeLuca is discharged from the hospital with Amber who is asked a very important question by him that he claims will impact their relationship.

Words: 2244

May 4th, 2020

After the past five days of having tests and physical therapy and being sent thank you cards and flowers Andrew DeLuca is more than ready to go home. He has been inside the hospital for 5 days and it feels like an eternity has passed.

He has felt discomfort now and then, especially when the tube was exerted from his throat. Also, it was hard to move around without stretching the surgical scars. Bailey has run the tests on him and he can tell she’s doing this out of shame as she apologized for not believing him the day he first accused Opal. He forgave her as he understood he was presenting himself as manic and unstable and not handling the situation as he normally would. The only thing that made his stay bearable was the company of Carina and Amber.

Carina has been a big help with getting him to walk around for PT and getting him food that he was craving. She also got her girlfriend Maya to get Andrew’s dog Jazz out of his empty apartment and into theirs so he can be taken care of while his owner is at the hospital. He received texts with videos of Jazz enjoying his temporary home being cuddled by their roommate Andy Herrera who jokes she is his new owner now.

Andrew packs his duffel bag as his memories of jazz play through his mind and he realizes there is one person in his life that has not met the furry tripod who stole his heart, his girlfriend, Amber Karev.

He groans at this in regret and wonders how Amber will feel about his doggy roommate. For as long as he’s known her, she hasn’t given any indication if she likes cats or dogs. He never brought it up because he thought like her that he would be so busy with work that a pet wouldn’t be in the picture.

But now since he adopted Jazz, he can’t imagine having another dog in his place. He just hopes Amber can feel the same way because he doesn’t want to choose between the two of them. He hears a knock on his door and he turns to find Amber opening the door wearing her casual clothes and black mask. He smiles at the sight of her because if there was one good thing about this year is Amber finally giving them another chance.

At first, he thought it was out of pity because he was stabbed but he listened to the voicemail she left the night before his attack and knows she’s here because she wants to be. And it’s an opportunity he is determined not to screw up again. But first he needs to have a conversation with her that is overdue.

“Are you ready to go home?” Amber asks closing the door behind her, “After two weeks of quarantine at a hotel room I mean.”

Andrew grins, “Well room service should be better than the food they have here, and they also have premium cable. I think I’ll survive.”

Amber smiles before walking so they can stand six feet from each other, “Well if you ever need someone to talk to through the door or drop off chicken soup for you for once I’m your girl.”

“Careful I’m definitely gonna take you up on that.” Andrew teases causing Amber to grin before he clicks his tongue and gets to his question, “Amber…you’ve been great I mean really you have been this past year has been rough and a lot has happened but one of the few things that have kept my feet on the ground is you walking in and giving me another chance. I mean seeing you and touching you as much as I can it’s a welcome relief after everything.”

Amber frowns at this, “What’s the bad news?”

Andrew furrows his eyebrows at that slightly scared she figured him out so quick, “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, DeLuca.” Amber states bluntly, “You always compliment me before you give me a piece of information that you think is bound to upset me.”

Andrew chuckles at this before Amber lays out examples, “You told me I was the sexiest woman alive before telling me you spilled my expensive eye cream all over the floor. You said I was the smartest resident in my class before telling me you assigned me scut for the next few weeks under Bailey’s orders. Also, you tried to ply me with a lavish Italian dinner before I found out you bought a motorcycle without consulting me.”

Andrew frowns at that last one remembering how peeved she was before she pointed out all the braindead patients, they get monthly due to motorcycle accidents. It was safe to say at that point that the dinner he made didn’t diminish her worry for his safety and her fury for what she thinks was a stupid decision on his part.

“I know your tactics and I know you Andrew DeLuca so out with it just give it to me straight it’s how I like my bad news.”

Andrew starts, “Okay it’s not bad news or even news its more like…a question. It’s a question that I have to ask out of concern for you and for our relationship and where we go from here. It’s an important question and your response is vital on what happens to us moving forward.”

Amber’s eyes widen at that, but she inhales and stands her ground, “Okay, what’s the question?”

“Amber…how do you feel about dogs?”

Amber is startled by this question before she laughs and snorts, “That’s it? That’s the question?”

Andrew keeps a serious face, “You laugh now bella but this is an important question either way.”

Amber clears her throat but still has an amused smile, “Sorry yes, deadly serious um…I don’t know I’ve never had a dog or given it much thought. I guess it depends on the dog, is that a good response?”

“It’s good cause I got a dog I want you to meet.” Andrew tells Amber, who widens her eyes at this as the smile falls from her face.

“You have a dog?” Amber asks out of pure curiosity.

Andrew nods, “Yeah, Jazz.”

Amber’s mouth gapes open and for a moment she’s silent before shaking her head out of it, “You have a dog named Jazz?”

“I do.”

“You’ve never mentioned this.”

Andrew shrugs, “It never came up.”

“Where is he? I mean you didn’t leave him alone in your apartment while you were recovering, did you? Because I think I’m gonna have to dump you for doing something that negligent and cruel.”

Andrew chuckles, “He’s with my sister and her girlfriend. I like to think of him as my fur baby and I don’t neglect my baby’s needs.”

“Good.” Amber says approvingly, “Wow three months apart and you get a dog go figure.”

“Well, I didn’t plan on it believe me but when he came to the hospital after his asshole owners fed him drugs, I had to take him in. It took a while and a few destroyed pillows, but we warmed up to each other and became inseparable.”

Amber looks shocked at this backstory before chuckling, “Wow he sounds like me, persevering tragic background and finding an Italian to curl up to at night.”

Andrew snorts at her comparison, “What can I say? I have a healing touch.”

“Oh god.” Amber groans in amusement, “Well I can’t wait to meet him once my test is negative. Now let’s get you the hell out of here.” Andrew follows suit with Amber helping him. He looks up with a pleased grin at her reaction and hopes Jazz gives her a chance as well.

May 9th, 2020

“I know I’ve hit you with a lot of information, but I need some sense that we’re on the same page.” Andrew asks Jazz who is sitting in front of him panting up at his owner who picked him up and brought him to the apartment last night, “No biting Amber got it? I’m not gonna lose the best relationship I have again because of your hostility towards strangers. And if your good to her I will give you salmon and eggs but only after you treat Amber nicely.”

Andrew finishes the breakfast on his pan that he made as an incentive for Jazz to encourage him to get along with Amber. He finds that cooked meals are a great treat for his dog to train him as he learned from teaching him to pee outside and not destroy the pillows.

Jazz whines clearly wanting the meal now and looks up at Andrew with pleading eyes, “Oh you can whine all you want but I’m not giving you this high protein breakfast unless I see you try to tolerate the woman I love. Think of it as a reward.” A knock on the door alerts Andrew as he puts the eggs in a plate, “Now’s your chance stay put.”

Andrew walks to the door making sure Jazz stays in his spot before he opens the door to find Amber on the other side holding up her phone.

“Negative covid test, I’m clean.”

“Well in that case come on in.” Andrew holds the door open for Amber who comes in and takes her mask off before she finds Jazz sitting on the couch watching Amber, “Amber this is Jazz, Jazz this is Amber.”

Amber grins at the dog before cautiously approaching him holding her hand out for him to sniff, “He’s cute is he friendly?”

“Uh mostly he takes a while to get used to strangers though so don’t be offended if he’s skittish at first. He’s very independent and we haven’t had guests beyond Carina and Maya so it can take a while before he-”

To Andrew’s shock Jazz licks Amber’s hand after sniffing her for a few moments causing her to aww. She then stands in front of the black tripod scratching behind his ears that he clearly likes as he smiles while panting. It takes Andrew by surprise as it took two days for Jazz to let him pet him while he let Amber do it after meeting her for two seconds. He decides not to point it out because he wanted them to get along and he got his wish.

“Or he’s been waiting his whole life for you to show up.”

Amber chuckles at that as she continues to pet Jazz, “Well the feeling is mutual, I guess. Is that salmon I smell?”

Andrew remembers Jazz’s reward, “And eggs which reminds me.”

Amber steps back and follows Andrew to the kitchen, “I already ate before I came but I appreciate it though.”

“Oh no it’s for Jazz.” Andrew moves to put the scrambled salmon and eggs in the dog bowl that Jazz greedily eats to his owner’s pleasure who kneels down and strokes the dog, “Yes, who’s a good dog? Who’s the best dog? You are.”

Amber is surprised by this sight, but she chuckles lightly with a smile, “Wow this is a side of you I haven’t seen.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a new thing.” Amber says before grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, “But hey at least I know what to get you for your birthday.”

Andrew furrows his eyebrows, “It’s not a puppy is it? Because this guy is enough thank you very much.”

Amber chuckles, “No see I was thinking a t shirt that says WORLDS BEST DOG DAD in bright red letters with a bitmoji of you and your new BFF.”

Andrew chuckles before standing up, “Oh you would just love to have me wear that to the gym, where all the bodybuilders can see it wouldn’t you?”

“After I put a lot of thought into it yeah.”

Andrew smiles at this before leaning down to kiss Amber who responds. She runs her fingers through his hair that she almost forgot the velvety feel of it. After weeks of tests and quarantine this moment between them as an official couple once again feels like fireworks are going off.

He puts his hands on her hips missing the feel of her before loud panting interrupts them. Amber opens her eyes to see Jazz sitting in front of them watching this scene. She pulls back from Andrew who turns and notices to his amusement.

Andrew chuckles, “Relax, he’s a dog he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Amber nods in agreement before going back to kissing him. She tries to get lost in the make out session, but she opens her eyes to find Jazz is still there and panting at them.

Amber pulls back, “I can’t do it, nope not right in front of him. It’s like having your child watch his dad make out with the new girlfriend and I know the unsettling feeling with the men my mother dated so I will spare your fur baby the same.”

Andrew groans as Amber pulls out a few things from her purse before walking toward his bathroom, “Where are you going?”

“To take a bath.” Andrew sighs in defeat at this until Amber adds, “And you’re joining me. It’s the one room in your place with a door. Come on before Jazz ruins the moment again lets go.”

Andrew grins mischievously, “Yes ma’am.” Andrew follows Amber inside the bathroom promptly closing the door to give them privacy.

[hyperionferrison]

Re-Inventory

Things have changed a LOT since I started my little niche hobby way back when (2009-ish), my existing collection looked like the first pic and the setup I used in our apartment to take pictures was the second. I've built up quite a large database of the available items that fall into my collecting focus and it's the biggest such database of it's kind (And more or less accurate too!).

As you can see, some things have changed.

Over the last few years, I've tried very hard to keep the database straight with the items I've bought or found out about but I KNOW several errors have worked their way into the system. One of the causes of this is the simple fact that I don't have display space to put everything out (Yet. We're working on it, but it's like 4 or 5 on the list of 'Big Projects Requiring a Fair Bit of Money'.).

What I DO have is my corner of the basement, a new 'photo studio' set-up, and a huge stack of mostly unlabeled totes with no real rhyme or reason to the packing thereof. So what's the process here gonna look like?

I DO have a bunch of new items I've purchased here and there over the past year and I think I'll certainly start there to at least get those photographed with the new setup and naming. Alongside having consistency in photo backdrops and such, I want to make all my photo naming conventions the same format. Over time I think I've used three different ways to name my photos, so finding something SHOULD be easy, but isn't always. This is what I'll be going with from now on for those interested-

####_(company)(SizeOz)(Type)(Color)(Material)_(Character(s))(Pose/Note/OtherIdentifiers)

(Example (Does NOT Really Exist!)) 2005_TTumbler32ozConcTumbPurpleGlass_MetamorphoJazzHandsSDCCExclusive

This should also give me a chance to make all my company, type and character abbreviations the same.

And once I get all the new items photographed, named and inventoried (And posted here for drooling.), then I'm going to empty all my totes to group sets together and figure out how many Silver Buffalo Superman Symbol 12oz Mugs I actually own. I suspect it's more than I think. And that damn McDonalds Batman Forever set! I will find that if it kills me.

I'm probably going to completely wipe out my existing inventory count. Or, more likely, make a clean copy of the database without the current count (Which reminds me, I need to add a few additional new items from the latest few DCEU movies and then give you guys an updated blank copy for your own use.) and do a separate accounting then compare the two.

All this while taking new pictures of EVERYTHING with the new photo set-up. Breakables first I think. Get pictures done and then tuck them back into their safe totes before going after the newer plastic things. Still not going to label the totes though, I found out the last time that creating an inventory sheet for each tote was a more time-intensive chore than I was willing to go through.

Soon you can expect to see a lot of items you've seen me post before with new, better pictures on that nice neutral gray backdrop with the help of Otto Freeze for scale.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

//

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

//

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

//

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

//

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

//

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now.   So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together.  Is he doing alright?  You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people.  “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted.  “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again.  “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger.  “I mean, sapphires?  Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. 

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked.  “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too.  She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.  

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder.  “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat.  Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it.  "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen.  But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard.  "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide.  "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really.  I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up.  "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you.  "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

[staticscreenwriting]

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.] 

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. 

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”  

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.” 

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I —  yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have —  I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken.  “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

[clementinesjourney]

Record Shop Funk - Pt. 1 Like real people do

A.N. : Hey guys, so i had this idea yesterday, and i really hope you'll like it. <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Words: 1,9k

Pairing: camboy!Steve x Reader, roommate!Bucky x reader, Stucky x reader (as the story goes)

Warnings: nothing yet :)

Summary: Who knew that having a secret crush, then a hearbreak will end in such a sweet thing..

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You and Bucky shared an apartment above the recordshop you both worked in. Your aunt was the owner of both, so it was a fairly good payment, and a fairly good apartment for a cheap price. It was a bright and big apartment with two bedrooms, so your decided to rent it out, all while searching for a helper to the shop downstairs. When Bucky came in applying for the job, you asked out of joke if he needs a place to live since you had seen around 5 people already and none of them felt right. His eyes lit up as he said he is in fact looking for a place. Since he was fitting for a job, and looked like a decent guy, you congratulated him on his new job, and asked if he wants to see the place today. You still had one and a half hour to close, but after it you would gladly show him the apartment.

He had nothing better to do, so he agreed to it, feeling happy about having a job he might actually like and a coworker he might actually will get along with.

-Do you drink coffee? I was thinking of getting one in the meantime. My friend works close by, and they make the best coffee in town. - He asked.

-I could go for one thank you - you smiled at him - iced cold-brew, no sugar, i'm sweet enough.. - you said with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back at the joke. When he arrived at the café, he saw his friend Steve flirting with a girl whom he could visibly see trembling just cause he talked to her. Steve always had his way with girls, ever since the serum of course. After he broke up with Peggy, it was mostly just hookups, never finding a girl worth keeping around. Not as if they werent kind, pretty or good to him, it just never felt right. Bucky smiled at his friend, Steve immediately shifted his gaze from the girl, to a very happy Bucky.

-Did you get the job?

-Better.. I got the job, and she has a room for rent which i'll see tonight.

-Wow Bucky, i didn't know you were even better then i am.. sooo how does she look? - asked Steve with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. He wanted Bucky to get a girl since ages and hearing this, his mind immediately ventured there.

-5'7, ginger, green eyes, freckles, curvy just the right places. why?

-Nothing Buck.. nothing.. - Steve said smirking at his friend.. Bucky never realized when he liked a girl, so he never really acted on it. He last had a woman back in the 40's.

-Sooo i know you didn't come to have chat with me, one black coffee and.. ?

-ah, iced cold-brew, no sugar..

After paying for the coffee, he hurried back to the shop, hoping to get to know his coworker a little bit better.

You thanked him for the coffee, and when you tried to pay, he refused.

-Next round's mine then. - You smiled at him with your 1000 watt smile, which again he couldn't help but smile back at.

-So tell me about you Bucky, what do you do in your freetime?

-Nothing really, just reading, spending time with my friends, kind of thats it.. I have a boring life really. What about you?

-Well, i work here, then i go home and listen to music, cook, god i love to cook, thats a big pro for the apartment.. just saying. - you said with a playful wink. - besides that nothing much. Sometimes i go to a nearby bar with my friends maybe concerts and thats it.

-I like washing dishes if that helps with the application for the room. - he said with a shy laugh which made your heart skip a beat.

- It sure does.. Do you leave your stuff around?

-No i'm a tidy person.. thank you very much. - he said cockily (just for the sake of being funny really).

-Okay okay, if you like it you can have the room, just promise to tell if you bring up a girl so i can leave. The walls are kind of thin.

-It's okay, i don't really...

-Oh um i'm sorry, i didn't meant to intrude, it just something i would really like everyone to add to their rental contracts. - you chuckled embarassed.

-Noo no, it's okay, i'm not embarassed by it. I guess i don't want hook ups, if one day there's someone i'll tell in advance.

-yea me too, i promise. If you end up renting it anyway haha. on that note it's time to close so i can show the room in a min.

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

When you opened the door to the apartment Buckyquietly took in it all. It was really bright, white walls with paintings all over the walls, plants in every corner or shelf you can put one on, a comfy looking mustard couch, aztec-y rug under the coffeetable, and a wall fully shelved, filled with books and little trinkets, it looked like a home he never had a chance to have. The livingroom had an american kitchen on the side, island in the middle of the kitchen area, it was white, and blue which reminded him of greece, down the hallway you showed him the bathroom which of course had a lot of plants that liked the atmosphere of a bathroom, a shower in the corner and a bathtub under the window. You then showed the empty room he could rent out. It only had a shelf and a wardrobe, and a queen sized bed. No decorations, no signs of anybody ever living there. You then pointed to the room the opposit of what could possibly be Bucky's in the future, saying that is yours. You didn't show your room, he wasn't gonna go in there anyway, and showing your most private space on the first day didn't seem like a good idea either. You then invited him out to the balcony, watching the setting sun, smoking a cigarette.

-So thats about it, what do you think?

-I really like it, and i mean.. my workplace is pretty close so thats a plus, also you said something about cooking all the time.. sooo if it's alright with you i would love to rent it out.

-It's settled then roomie. I'll give you the keys, you can move in whenever you want to. Tomorrow we are closed, so maybe that would be ideal.

-Yea, then tomorrow it is then. I'll ask my friend to help, then we can maybe hang a bit if you're free.

-Sure, i have nothing planned, and it's good to know who i'll be living with. - you said with a smile.

Before closing the door, you said your goodbyes, and you realized what did you just do, after he wished you good night with a killer halfsmile that almost had your knees buckle. You just agreed to living together with possibly the most handsome man you've ever seen who is also your new coworker, so you will basically spend most of your time with him.. Guess we'll see how this goes you thought to yourself.

Morning came soon enough, you were sitting out on the balcony when you saw Bucky arrive with a very tall, just as handsome man, carrying boxes of books, and bags of clothing. Bucky looked up at the balcony, waving towards you, you waved back, then moved to open the front door before going back out to the balcony, resuming your coffee and smoke.

When they finished bringing all Bucky's stuff in, it was already midday, so you decided you'd order pizza for all of you, as in like a welcome present.

-Hey guys, i'm thinking of ordering pizza, what kind would you like?

-Oh (y/n) you don't have to. - said Bucky, earning a smirk from Steve as he looked back and forth between you two.

- Noo i insist, today won't be the day i'll start to slowly kill you with my cooking. - you said giggling a bit.

- Whatever's fine peach. - said Steve with a wink, that you decided was just out of friendlyness. You didn't veen knew his name, and he seemed like a lady's man anyways. Not really your type no matter how handsome and muscular he is.

- Steve, by the way, nice to meet you.

-(Y/n), likewise. - you shook his hand.

When the pizzas arrived you called them to the kitchen, listening to all their shared stories from their early years. They seemed like really close friends, and genuinely good people. You had a really great time. It was nearly 9 pm when Steve left, for saving a dame from dying cause of boredom he said. You and Bucky chuckled, then he let him out, closing the door, locking it for the night.

-I guess i have some packing to do, so.. good night (y/n).

-Good night Bucky, if you need anything just knock. - you said with a smile, and he couldn't help but smile back. He felt at peace. He had Steve, now he had a job, and a room to make a home of, and you as a new addition. You were so kind, so eager to help if he needed anything, he loved how the scent of raspberries and flowers lingered in the apartment mixed with coffee and cigarette smoke. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

You heard a soft knock half an hour later. WHen you opened the door you saw a smiling Bucky, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

- Hey, um.. sorry. I forgot i didn't bring a blanket, could i borrow one until i get my own?

-Yea sure, i'll get one in a min. - You said, leaving the door open, letting him see a bit of "you" while you were searching for your spare blanket in your wardrobe. The room really was you. White, with mustardy curtains on the window, plants everywhere, books piled up here and there, a really comfy looking bed, pictures of you and your friends on the walls. And damn, your room smelled even more like you. If he wouldn't pay attention your scent would lure him into your room and never let him leave he thought.

-There you go. - you handed him the blanket smiling.

-Thank you very much.

Then he stood there for a moment drinking in the sight of you in front of him. You were wearing an oversized tshirt, that ended just around the middle of your thighs, hair in a messy bun, no makeup. He could swear he thought you were pretty before, but seeing you as you were made him fancy you even more.

With a small smile you told him goodnight again, then closed the door in his face.

You could hear his little laugh on the other side of the door, then his door closing. For the first time in months he didn't wake up in the middle of the night, and he didn't had a nightmare either. He was afraid he would, and then he would wake you up with his screaming, but looks like the blanket which smelled just like you calmed him enough.

After waking up because the rays of sunshine on his face, he smiled to himself guess i'll wait with getting my own blanket then...

[apricitystudies]

this post has been highly requested! it turned out more focused on loneliness and the emotional side of things, so i might do a part two to explore what culture shock is and go through its stages in more detail later on. as always, further questions and requests are always welcome in my askbox :)

transcript below:

(this is such a text-heavy masterpost and i didn’t save the original so i have to types out everything again bc i am the stupid. let’s go)

(title slide) culture shock and loneliness: studying abroad, adjusting to a new country, and overcoming isolation. a guide by apricitystudies

1. do some research. before you leave, read up on the basics of your new country’s culture. what are its customs and traditions? what holidays do they celebrate? is the pace of life hectic or laid back? are the people friendly or reserved? is society egalitarian or hierarchical? the easiest way to do this is to search ‘[country] culture’ or ‘what is life like in [country]?’ try google, youtube, and online forums. you can even make friends from your new country through online penpalling or language-learning apps like HiNative to get a native’s perspective.

2. bring some pieces of home with you. while writing out your packing list, leave some space in your suitcase for items that will remind you of home. they can be pictures of you and your friends and family, gifts from your loved ones, a stuffed animal, or anything else that will make your new place feel more comfortable. for example, when i left home, i brought with me letters and cards from my friends, a throw pillow, some small trinkets i kept on my desk, and my favourite mug.

3. carve out some alone time. the first few weeks after you’ve moved to a new country will likely be extremely hectic and difficult, so it’s important to reserve time to be alone and reflect.

4. keep yourself occupied. that being said, don’t just sit around with your thoughts all day. there is nothing worse than coming home from a long day of running errands trying to get settled in your new place, and then just sitting in your empty apartment by yourself and thinking about how quiet it is and how lonely you are. it’s important to keep your down time from growing into a daily pity party; trust me, i’ve been there.

5. keep up with your interests. see if there are sports or interest clubs at your new school that you can join. if you play an instrument but couldn’t bring it with you, like me (rip drummers), ask if your school has a music studio you can book to practise. pack your favourite art supplies or books. maintaining a common link with your life back home will help you to adjust quicker to your new life.

6. stay connected with loved ones. and make this contact regular! i called my dad every weekend, skyped my sister every other week, spoke to my friends every month, etc. slightly unrelated, but if you’re already seeing a therapist, ask about scheduling online appointments. this is a delicate balancing act. it’s okay to text your loved ones little blurbs every say; i texted my dad every night to let him know i was safe, but we only had actual conversations once or twice a week at most. if you’re having daily hour-long calls with family or friends, you’ll constantly be thinking about how much you miss home and make yourself miserable.

7. make new connections. one of the best ways to adjust to your new country is to get to know the locals. not only can they teach you the in and outs of your new home, but establishing social roots in the local community can also help you feel more like a new community member instead of just a temporary resident. having local friends exposes you to your new country’s culture in a more personal way and helps to ground you in that culture much more effectively than if you were to mix only with other international students.

8. be patient with yourself. you might have had high expectations for your new life and be disappointed that you don’t feel as happy as you thought you would feel. you might look at other international students having the time of the lives and be frustrated with yourself for feeling lonely and homesick and having less fun than them. or, if you’re like me, your overseas experience may have been cut short by a global pandemic. everyone adapts to new situations in different ways, and there is no ‘right way’ to feel. you might have immense amounts of fun or you might feel like absolute rubbish. either way, know that your emotions are valid. you will figure it out at your own pace.

9. ask for help. check what support services are available at your new school if you have a legal-administrative issue, see if your school has advisors for international students. for academic help, reach out to your professors to let them know you need extra guidance adjusting to the new school system. if you’re suffering mentally/emotionally, check if your school offers free counselling. join an international student club or a club for people from your home country. if you have a mentor, they can help you too. it can be difficult to admit you’re struggling if you don’t want to seem weak or worry your loved ones back home. but it’s okay to be lost or overwhelmed, and there is no shame in asking for help. most people will be understanding and more than willing to give you the support you need.

(final slide) the adjustment curve is difficult, but you can get through it! i believe in you. thanks for reading! from apricitystudies

[dancingqueen0019]

Saving Grace Ch. 5

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Themes: Budding Relationship, Fluff, Awkward Love, Slow-Burn ish, Age Gap (roughly 15 years; Aaron 40ish and Reader 25)

Warnings: Mention of murders, natural death of parent (reader’s parent), slight cursing (?), school drama (slight bullying, additional school assistance)

Author’s Note: Chapter 5! Hope you enjoy. According to Google Docs its 8 Pages. This hasn’t been edited so I apologize for grammar/spelling errors

Life definitely pulled a fast one on me. On Sunday, Lucas and I drove out to the ranch to visit with mom and the grandparents. We stayed for lunch and dinner and we helped with some chores around the place. There were a couple of fences that needed fixing and the cows needed to be moved from the upper pasture to the lower one so that they could hire someone to replace the back fence line. We try to do most of the work ourselves, but with Lucas leaving, there isn’t enough manpower or time to do it completely. Mom was excited to hear all about my teaching from this past week and the upcoming events. I made Lucas swear that he wasn’t going to say a word about Aaron, and thankfully he kept his mouth shut. 

She did as if there was anyone who caught my eye but I mainly brushed that off. My mother was a strong woman, especially since my father died. For the first couple of years, my grandma moved in with us so that she could help around the house and watch us. If she didn’t, I’m sure the house would have fallen apart. Eventually mom got back on her feet, but something became hard in her. She never dated again or made any indication of having feelings for another person. She thrusted herself into taking care of her children and her parents. She doesn’t know that there were times when I would wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and I could hear her sobs and cries for my father. 

Moments will flash before my eyes of mom and dad doing domestic things together. Maybe they were actual memories, or maybe I convinced myself that the cute things that couples do in romance movies were things that my parents did. There is one memory though that I know is 100% real, and it's only because there’s a picture to prove it happened. Lucas was messing with mom’s new camera on the kitchen table and snapped the slightly out of focus moment of dad creeping up behind mom with mud covered hands. He was working outside and I was idly playing in the mud when I convinced him to make mud pies with me. He told me to be quiet and I followed him into the kitchen. Mom was at the sink washing dishes when suddenly dad grabbed her bare arms and made her jump out of surprise. Which was quickly followed by a shriek of horror that her arms were covered by mud. 

In response she flung the wet washcloth at dad and soapy water went flying through the air. A mixture of soap and mud created a mess over themselves, the counters, and floors. Bubbles drifted up to the ceiling and some went out of the open window. I loved that memory, it was one that I thought of often. Especially when I was doing the dishes. 

On Monday, I got the call from Lucas while my students were at lunch that things changed drastically and he had to be deployed that night. He had already called mom and told her the news, which she didn’t take too well too, but he needed me to drive him to his drop off location. I called my building principal, Dr. Smithfield, and he said he would take care of my class the rest of the afternoon. I packed my bags and left.

I cried when saying goodbye to him and I cried when I walked in the door to an empty house. I had planned on more time with him, but we didn’t get that. Murphy stuck to my side, as if he knew why I was upset, and I even let him sleep in my bed that night. 

On Tuesday, I called in sick so I didn’t have to pretend to be super cheery for my students. I texted with my mom and asked if she needed anything, but she wasn't responding. Probably left her phone like she usually does on the table while she’s out working. My next thought was to call Aaron. He did say to call him if I needed anything, but he was probably too busy at work to do anything, plus what could he do. He doesn’t have the authority to bring Lucas back, so besides that I don’t know what he could do. 

He could come over and hold you. Make you dinner here. I thought hopefully to myself. 

At least I have dinner tonight to look forward to. Unfortunately that means that I have to shower and put makeup on. Maybe brush my teeth too, that would probably be good. My rambling list of basic care that needed to be done was cut very short by my phone ringing. 

“Hey, Aaron.” I said with a touch of tiredness in my tone. There was a loud noise of commotion in the background before what I assume was a door shutting closed. 

“Y/N, hi. Jack said yesterday that you had left halfway through the day, I tried calling your work phone to reach you and a sub picked up. Is everything okay?” He spoke in a timid tone, waiting for my answer. I started choking up just a tad, “Yeah, well no. I will be soon. Lucas was deployed yesterday afternoon. He told me that things were bad over there which is why he had to leave weeks ahead of schedule. I just needed a personal day, tell Jack I’ll see him tomorrow.” 

He paused for a moment before responding, “Y/N I’m so sorry to hear that. I don’t have long to talk so I’m sorry I have to add to the bad news. There’s been a case and our plane leaves in two hours. I have to cancel our dinner plans tonight and reschedule when we get back.” 

I sucked in a breath and a small sob came out instead. “Y/N, please don’t cry.” 

“N-no, I’m sorry.” I wiped away the tears, “I understand. Your job is really important, that has to come first. Hopefully this case ends quickly. Sorry, I’m just really emotional right now.” I threw myself back down on my bed and the remaining tears rolled down the sides of my face and pieces of hair stuck to the wet skin. 

“I’ll keep you updated on when I’m back. I gotta go now.” We said goodbye to each other, but I didn’t notice that before we hung up that he heard the last sob that pushed past my lips. I thought the phone had clicked before that. I placed my phone on my nightstand and rolled over to take a nap. 

It didn't last long though. The mixture of the doorbell ringing, Murphy braying, and my headache pounding was just enough to put me on the verge of calling it quits. I slowly pulled myself from my bed and trampled downstairs. I was wearing a long shirt but I forgot to put shorts on in my mental state so I just had underwear on with it. My braided hair probably looked atrocious so I tried flattening it down with my hands before pulling the front door open.

There he stood, looking like a knight in shining armor in his dress pants and white collared shirt. His eyes studied me, gazing over my body, almost checking to make sure that I was physically okay. However I think he just wanted to sneak a peek. He opened the second glass door and let himself in, without talking he pulled me into his arms for a strong hug. 

Instantly I put part of my weight onto him so I could sink into the hug. His arms wrapped around my upper and lower back squeezed tighter and I shifted my head so that it was on his shoulder. The cologne he wore broke through my stuffy nose and it brought me comfort. He slowly swayed us from side to side and quietly whispered, “I couldn’t leave town without saying bye. I felt like I had to see you one more time.” 

I whimpered at that and he shushed me, rubbing his hand up and down my back. My shirt bunched under his touch so now his lower hand partially laid on top of the band of my underwear. His thumb on that hand smoothed itself over my skin over and over again, tracing the same path. “It means a lot, you stopping by here. Thank you Aaron.” I mumbled against him. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He softly asked me. I shrugged my shoulders slightly, “I honestly don’t know. Promise to be safe? I can’t spend the next several days, or however long, worrying about two people.” I felt his chest fill with air twice before he answered.

“Of course,” he placed his head on top of mine, “I promise I will be safe, as long as you take care of yourself. Okay?” I nodded in response and he pulled away a little bit. I snuck my arms around his waist and he put his hands on either side of my face. “I should be going now. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, please. You can’t be sorry for your job Aaron.” His brown eyes softened at that and a smile twitched onto his face. Before I could process what was happening, he tilted my head down a fraction and kissed my forehead. It was a firm kiss and I closed my eyes, hoping to commit this moment to memory. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” He slowly pulled back from me and opened the door. 

I stood at the door watching him pull away from the driveway and for a moment I felt like part of me left. A small fraction drove down the driveway with him in that black car. It was going to be a long week. 

Wednesday:

The school day went by so slow, it felt like pulling teeth. Jack was down in the dumps about his dad leaving and I had so much sympathy for him. Luckily I was going out to drink tonight with Sammy and the rest of our teacher friends. Normally we wouldn’t go out on a school night but tomorrow was a work from home day. All students had the day off and teachers got to catch up on their to-do list so I could drown my sorrows. Aaron had texted me late last night that he had landed and once again when he made it to his hotel room. I was thankful that he made it there safely and we texted for a little bit before he had to go to bed. 

After getting home and taking care of Murphy I went ahead and got ready to go out. I just put on light wash jeans and a low cut black bodysuit with my white shoes. Sammy came over early to get ready as well and of course then we just started drinking at home. We had a sober friend driving tonight so we continued to drink until they came by. The bar wasn’t really full, since it was a Wednesday, but plenty of us were there to make it more of a party. We sat around drinking for the next three hours and I admit that I had more than I should have had. 

I really wanted to drown my problems. The music was throbbing in my ears but it was a welcomed distraction. I was sitting at the table with Sammy, Mr. Mac (Whose real name is Mac), Daniel, Alice, and a couple others from my school that I don’t really talk to. Mac went to the bar to order a round of shots for our table, so I took that time to check my phone. No messages from Lucas or my mom, but there was a message from Aaron. The message came in ten minutes ago and it was already 11:30 so I wasn’t sure if he was still awake or not. 

I put all my focus on unlocking my phone in my drunk state and managed to get to the messages. 

Aaron: Are you still awake?

Me: Yess. You?

He read the message right away. 

Aaron: How are you today?

Me: Drunk, so good. You??

I could feel the alcohol buzzing through my veins mixed with the delight of talking to him. 

Me: You need to come home and drink with me, I’m funnn

Aaron: Yeah I can tell you are drunk. I’ll be home soon.

A stupid drunk smile plastered itself onto my lips. Mac came back to the table with shots in hand. We quickly threw them back and headed out onto the dance floor. All of us piled onto one another and continued dancing and taking drinks of our cocktails. Mac stole my phone and snapped a picture of Sammy and I on the dance floor. We were pressed up against one another, she was behind with her hands thrown up to the music and I was smiling over my shoulder to the camera with my drink in my hand. He slid my phone back into my back pocket and continued dancing. 

We went home probably an hour later and I stumbled up the stairs into my room. I peeled all the clothes off of my body and flopped down into the bed naked. I was out like a light in a minute. 

Light buzzing woke me up at 8:30 and I cursed myself for setting an alarm that early. I had a couple notifications from my mom, just wishing that I had a good day today and that she will see me this weekend, and one from Aaron.

Aaron: Looks like you enjoyed yourself last night. Let me know when you are up for the day

The fog in my brain almost caused me to type back asking what he meant, but then I scrolled back up to see that somehow the picture of me and Sammy was sent to him. I must have had my messages open when Mac took the photo and he must have sent it by accident. I threw my palm onto my forehead, how stupid could I be? 

Me: Morning :)

Aaron: Good morning, got any picture proof of that?

My eyes slightly widened at that before a blush crept its way to my neck. I opened my camera and pulled my blankets up higher so my body wouldn’t be on display. My half open eyes and sleepy smile stared back at me before I hit send.

Me: That picture last night was sent by accident, sorry about that. 

Aaron: Ah good, you are awake. 

Aaron: Thought it was a good picture of you though

That blush was full force now. I sat up slowly in bed and sat cross legged. 

Me: Well thanks. How is your case going? 

Aaron: Can’t say much, but we should be closing in soon. It’s been rough, that’s for sure. 

Me: My offer still stands, come by if you need or want to talk. 

Aaron: Thank you Y/N. Have a good day today

Me: You too Aaron. 

I pulled on a shirt and headed downstairs to let Murphy out. I locked the door behind me so he could have plenty of time to do his morning business and I went back upstairs to shower. The hot water woke me up and released the tension in my muscles. I stood there for a few minutes just letting the water rush over me until my skin was beet red. I grabbed my scalp scrubber and lathered my hair in shampoo. My poor roots were so sensitive to the scrubbing that it hurt a little bit but it felt good too. 

I let the conditioner sit in my hair for a couple of minutes while I washed my body with lavender soap. The ick of the bar washed off and I felt content with that. After I finished rinsing everything out of my hair I stopped the water and wrapped myself in a big towel. I grabbed my hair brush and slicked my hair back before walking downstairs to let Murphy back in. He trotted back in and went straight to his bowl. Looking down at his empty bowl he threw his head back and howled. I laughed at him and picked up his bowl to fill it up. He’s on one of those fancy diets so he gets his normal food with raw fruits and veggies, powdered supplements, and oil to make his fur shiny. 

As he gobbled that food up I grabbed the coffee from the fridge and made myself a large thing of iced coffee and started making myself breakfast. Today my plans consisted of grading assignments, going over the notes the sub left, and having a meeting with my grade level at 2pm. I headed upstairs with a plate of food and my drinks so I could get busy with work. I swapped my towel for cropped black leggings and one of my college sweatshirts. I stripped the sheets off of my bed and put those in the wash and went back to the office to enjoy my breakfast. 

Murphy switched between laying on my feet and then sunbathing in the glass door that led to the balcony.  Before I knew it, it was lunch time and I had all assignments caught up and I went over the sub notes. Thankfully nothing bad happened while I was gone so there wasn’t anything that I needed to discuss on Friday. Murphy stretched out and pawed at my leg. I took him on a quick walk up and down the street to stretch his legs and returned to make lunch. I had plenty of leftovers to heat up so I grabbed the pizza and started the oven up. 

I really wanted to text Aaron but I didn’t want to interrupt his work day. Instead I put my phone down and looked over one of my new books. I had roughly an hour until my meeting so I read for a bit and then put my freshly washed sheets back on my bed. I was pretty happy with how my room was turning out. The queen sized bed had dark emerald green colored sheets and a matching cream comforter, and it was adorned with a mixture of cream and green pillows. The rest of my room had my light wooden dresser, bookshelf, and nightstands. For now I was doing my makeup in the bathroom, but I’m having a vanity shipped here so that I can have more room in the bathroom storage. The walls were still pretty bare for now, with the exception of my round black mirror above the dresser and a shelf above my bed filled with vintage sepia photos. 

Saturday: 

I woke up around 4am to the phone ringing and for a moment I contemplated throwing it against the wall. With my eyes half closed I pulled the phone off of the charger and picked it up. “Hello?” I grumbled out and rubbed my face in hopes of waking myself up. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I woke you, but I wouldn’t have called unless it was important.” Aaron’s warm voice soothed over the phone. I blinked a couple of times and looked at the alarm clock. 

“S’okay, what's up? Are you home now?” I let out a small yawn before he responded in a timid voice. 

“Yeah, our plane just landed 20 minutes ago. I-I wanted to take you up on your offer, this case didn’t end well.” He let out a stressed sigh and I felt bad for him. I was more awake now so I forced my eyes open, “Of course. Come on over, just text me when you are here so I can unlock the door.” 

He promised he would be there in the next 15 minutes so I grabbed my silk robe and headed downstairs to wait for him. I sat down in the armchair and scrolled through my phone, trying to stay awake but sleep kept pushing itself further into me. I remember nodding off and then being woken to my phone ringing again. 

I got up and unlocked the door, unbothered to even check who was calling me. Aaron looked more exhausted than I did. His hair was free of product and his shirt was loosened up. His eyes looked almost wild, like he had just seen the most horrific sight. I pulled my robe tighter around myself and held the door open while he walked in. He kicked off his shoes and neatly placed them next to mine and silently followed me upstairs. In his left hand he had a small black duffle bag, which I assumed had his work clothes in it. 

“What can I get you? Food or drink? If you need to shower feel free to use mine.” I talked quietly while we went up the stairs. He mulled over my offers and said that a shower would be nice. I grabbed him an extra fluffy towel from the linen closet and showed him to my bathroom. I discarded my robe and sat back down on the bed waiting for him. I wasn’t sure what he was expecting from this but he said that he needed to talk so that’s the least I can do for him. I went over in my head all the typical, ‘I’m sure that must have been hard’ and ‘I can’t imagine the stress you went through’ responses to things. 

Lucas would tell me stories from his previous deployment, but I had no clue what to expect from an FBI agent. I heard the shower turn on and I laid down on the bed and against my will my eyes started drooping lower and lower until they finally closed. The bed dipped down towards my feet and I peeled my eyes open. In front of me was Aaron sitting with his shoulders hunched over. His wet hair left little marks on the white cotton shirt. I sat for a moment laying there, just watching him. The thin white material mixed with the water still on his skin made the shirt cling to him. 

I fought the urge to sit behind him and rub the tension out of his back. Thankfully I didn’t have to fight myself for long as he stood up and turned around to find me watching him. He had on black sweatpants and to be honest I think this would be the only time I would ever see him in relaxed clothing. “I-” he started before pausing to collect his thoughts, “Thank you for the shower, I needed that. I’m used to bad cases, but for some reason this one stuck with me.” 

I patted the other side of my bed to get him to sit closer while I pushed myself up to sit against the pillows and headboard. I folded my legs under me and twisted my body so that I was facing him, “I think that in your profession, if you stopped letting every case get to you then you wouldn’t be human anymore. When we went through our Master’s program we met with so many teachers that quit their jobs because they lost themselves to it. They burnt out and stopped letting everything get to them and they said that they hated how they felt.” 

He hummed in response and took a deep breath, “I haven’t done this,” I gestured between us, “before so whatever it is you need me to do, just tell me.” I said softly. He nodded and said that he just needs me to listen, he needs to get it off his chest. 

Before Aaron started talking he readjusted himself on the bed so that he was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. I had to hold back a giggle because he reminded me of a person laying on the bed talking to their shrink. Once he started talking though, he didn’t stop for another three hours. I sat there quietly, nodding along and offering words of encouragement to talk it out. His hands would move around to animate his story, but when his left hand dropped and landed on my upper knee, he kept it there. I’m not sure if it grounded him, or if he just wanted some sort of physical contact, but I didn’t dare move his leg. 

When he was done talking about this case, he immediately jumped into another case that was bothering him from a year ago. At this point I had no clue how he kept going without passing out, but another wave of exhaustion hit me. I slid down the bed, Aaron’s hand pulling away from my knee temporarily, and laid on my side to face him. I kept my left arm laying out from my body and he replaced his hand back to now grab mine. Despite the horrible stories that came out of his mouth, the warmth of his speech pattern kept me calm. 

“You look like you are going to fall asleep.” He remarked when he finally took a look at me. I smiled and blushed a little, ”Sorry. I’m trying so hard to stay awake for you, I promise.” 

“Are you okay if I stay? Just for a couple more hours?” He timidly asked and I opened my eyes enough to see him shyly looking down at me. As if he was a little child, but I could tell that if I said no that he would be hurting. A sleepy smile pulled at my mouth and I mumbled out a yes. He reached over to the lamp and turned in off before settling back in. 

I didn’t move from his side but he didn’t seem to mind as he pulled the covers higher around us. The last thing I remember is him saying goodnight and his lips pressing into my hair. 

[yelenasdog]

moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah 

🥍🥍🥍

The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful. 

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love. 

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system. 

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection. 

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period. 

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up. 

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed. 

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands. 

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.” 

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long. 

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs. 

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder. 

“Yeah, Y/n/n.” 

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber. 

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

🥍🥍🥍

ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

 xx hj

[star-lemonade]

The Altar

Ateez San x Reader

Genre: smut, candy shop au

Cw: smut, San likes it when you say his name

Rating: R

Word count: 5 k

Thanks to @yutasgalaxy​ for giving feedback. I changed a lot since you read it xD

“You should really go there.”

Your friend’s voice still rang in your ears. These words had been said to you so often lately. Your friend had heard good things about it, although you suspected it was first-hand experience. You felt frustrated about the lack of men in your life. It was hard to meet someone new and the few times you had actually met a nice guy, they had not been interested in you. Afterwards you felt the drought in your bed even more than usual. Maybe it was time. Time to go there. The Candy Shop.

You went to the address your friend provided. That was the first unusual thing. When you had looked for it online, you had not been able to find an address. How could there be a place that can not be found on the internet? The building was as mundane as a grey house between other grey houses could be. The entrance did not look like a shop either. The window next to the door was small and drapes obscured the view inside. Only the “open” sign at the door indicated that this was the right place.

You opened the door, and a bell announced your entrance to the empty room. It was a small space for a store, and it was filled to the brim with boxes. Boxes on shelves, boxes on the floor, in giant box towers, boxes hanging in nets from the ceiling. The oddest thing was their color; all of the boxes were the same warm grey. No writing. No pictures. How did anyone know what was inside the boxes? Maybe I’m wrong here? You turned to leave.

“Oh, there you are.”

The voice came from behind you and it sounded familiar. The woman looked exactly how you remembered her, Ms Lee, who had been your homeroom teacher in middle school. She wore a tie-dye tank top that showed off her wrinkly arms.

“Ms Lee?”

She smiled like a proud mother, not something you wanted to see in a sex toy shop. Her smile had always been an attractive feature of her. You could see why she had been the most popular widow at the school.

“No, dear. I’m the Owner.”

Even her voice sounded the same. At least you thought she sounded like Ms Lee. On the other hand it had been years since you had see her.

“Oh, excuse me.”

You could have sworn that she was your old teacher, but she was not. Good. Imagine running into your old teacher in a shop like this. Awkward.

“Ehm, I’m looking for something.”

There was no point in feeling embarrassed now. You had already entered the sex shop, but you still felt your face burn. If you act awkward, it will just be more embarrassing. Get it together! You were about to elaborate further when she said:

“Of course. I think I have just the thing. Follow me.”

How could the owner sound so confident, when you had not given her any information? She turned around and walked to the counter in the back of the shop, and you followed. Surprisingly the counter was not made out of boxes stacked on top of each other but from wood.

“Wait here, please.”

The Owner went behind the counter and left through a door. The side room too seemed to be filled with boxes, as much as you could see of it. You still wondered how she knew what was in each box. Did they all have the same things inside? Maybe there had been a shipment of something, and now it clogged up the place? She returned with a smile on her face.

“Here.”

She held the thing out for you, and without thinking, you took it from her. Why did you do that?

“A walking stick?”

The long wooden stick was knobbly and looked like it had been a small tree that someone debarked. It was not carved but it had grown relatively straight. The surface was polished and waxed, shining in the dim light of the shop.

“Yes. You should go and have a picnic.”

You stared at the stick and back to her incredulously. This must be a joke.

“But-”

“No problem,” The Owner waved you off. “That’s on the house. Have fun.”

She smiled before leaving through the door behind the counter. The lock clicked into place you were alone with your stick.

“...should I stick this in my butt or what?”

You shouted after her but the Owner did not return. Reluctantly, you left and went home.

That night you had a dream about your childhood house where your parents used to live. It was small and cozy in a tiny town near the mountains.

The mountains.

Yes, you missed going up the hidden paths to the tops of the small mountains. The forest that covered them had been your place to play when you had lived there. You had spent the years of your childhood running around in the undergrowth. In your dream the sun was shining from a bright blue sky that only came in autumn. You walked up the mountain as you had done many times. It was not clear to you if this was a memory or not but you almost felt the sun burn on your face. You reached the top of the mountain in what felt like a record time. Here stood a bench that overlooked the valley and your hometown. It was beautiful.

When you woke up, the dream had left a hole in you. You yarned for the home, that was not your home any more. You decided that you would go there.

Today. Now.

You got dressed, packed an overnight bag and ate a big breakfast. The ride to the town would take two hours, but you did not know if you would be able to return to your apartment in time. Hiking was exhausting and maybe you would be too tired to drive back to the city.

You grabbed the walking stick and went to your car. The drive was familiar. You had done it lots of times. Today the time flew and you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the only supermarket of your hometown.

Maybe I should get some food? I will be hungry when I’m up there. You looked at the mountain that barely classified as one. Today the air was humid and mist hung over the forest beyond the town limits. Thegrey sky looked about ready to release more on the land. You did not really pay attention to what you bought. The old man at the counter looked up and smiled. You paid and left the store.

The parking lot where the hiking paths started was empty. It had just rained and most people had stayed at home. You packed the food and drinks into your backpack.

The path was slippery and your shoes sank a few centimeters with every step. This made the hike much harder and slower than you had expected. You knew the path well, even after all this time, your body moved on its own now. Pulling one foot out of the mud and planting it further up the path. Repeat with the other foot. In the forest you saw some trees that had fallen over. This was always the case of course but they were different from last time you had been here.

Some time later you found yourself at a bench, and stopped there to drink something. The next part would be a bit steeper so you pulled out the walking stick.

The ground was wet and the path was getting muddier the higher up you went. Maybe I should take a short cut to the top? If you went straight through the trees here, you would be there faster than following the path. You were impatient today and turned left into the forest.

The ground here was less muddy but you had to step more carefully. Holes in the ground could be hidden by dead leaves and small plants. Breaking your ankle in the middle of the forest did not sound like a good idea. The forest smelled of the herbs that grew all over the place. You considered picking some of them, but you were not sure which ones were really eatable. Ahead the trees grew less dense.

In the glade you saw something and walked closer to check it out. It was a slab of stone that was overgrown by moss and vines. You examined the stone closer and you noticed the top was smooth and the sides were covered in patterns. It was not an ordinary stone; It was an altar.

The altar of a forgotten deity. Lost in the forest and being consumed by nature without the care of the believers.

I don’t believe in gods, but it feels like I should pay my respects. You never know.

You set your backpack down next to the altar and picked up a stick that was lying on the ground. The moss grew mostly on the sides which would not be easy to clean but the top should be easier. You used the stick to scrape off the vines and grime that had accumulated there. It did not come off well but at least the altar looked a bit better than before. You drank some water from your bottle and looked into your backpack.

Maybe I should leave some offerings too?

You picked up a leaf and used it as a makeshift plate for the rice. The red apple and one of the little desserts would have to do.

“Have a good day.”

You returned to the car without having been to the top. It was still light outside so you decided to drive back to your apartment. You felt exhausted but you really wanted to sleep in your own bed.

When you arrived the sun had set and you were about to fall asleep. You fell into your bed and passed out, sleeping like the proverbial stone.

The next day was Sunday which was good. No work. No need to get out of bed either.

You showered, made yourself a quick breakfast and got back under your warm blanket. Sunday morning was the perfect time to do nothing. You turned on the tv and continued to watch the drama you had started the prior week.

The couple got together in this episode and it made you feel so single. Seeing them kiss on screen made you miss kissing. Yeah, just kissing. What a lie. You paused the video. Maybe I should watch some porn instead? It still bugged you that your trip to the Candy Shop had been so fruitless. Why did you get a walking stick? The stick. You had not taken it with you. It was probably still next to the altar in the forest. Ah, well, my dildo will have to do. Getting off with it was nice, but it was not the same as having sex with a guy. For a moment you thought about the pretty male lead in the drama. How nice it would be to run your hands over his face and body. Sadly, this was not very realistic. I will go on tinder on Monday.

“Is it too much to ask for a cute, caring boyfriend to have hot sex with?”

You groaned and looked at the ceiling as if that was where your fate would be decided. It did not answer.

“That’s your wish‽”

You almost jumped out of bed. The voice came from your right, the side of the bed that had just been empty. It was not anymore. The man blended into the white sheets with his white clothing. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“What the fuck?!” You shouted. “How did you get in here? Who are you? Get out!”

You backed away. There was no bed left behind you. You fell over backwards but did not hit the ground. Your hand was caught in an iron grip.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

The man pulled you back into the bed. It brought you close to him. He had long hair that was tied at the top of his head. Something you expected to see in a historical drama not in your bedroom. He had a stunningly beautiful face. Intense eyes, full lips and a sharp jawline.

Why are all hot guys psychos?

“Let go!”

“You will fall again.”

His voice was so gentle it made your heart skip a beat. It was familiar, like a deja vu. This was not someone you had met before, but it still seemed like you knew him. Get it together, the guy broke into your house, don’t be lulled in by his looks.

“How did you get in here?”

You did not know what to do. He held your wrists in his hands, but you backed away as far as possible. Was he going to do something to you?

“I followed you. Yesterday.”

He said it as if it was the normal thing in the world. You stared at him, open mouthed. He had been here since yesterday? Your blood turned to ice. His grip was still holding your wrists. If he had not you would have fallen out of bed now.

“You cleaned the altar so nicely it woke me up from my sleep. It’s been ages since anyone left an offering there.”

The altar. How did he know about that? There had been no one there aside from you.

“Let me go and leave.”

He stared into your eyes. Nothing was hidden from that stare. You wanted to look away but could not. As if hypnotized you stared into his eyes. They were not brown as you had assumed, but a very dark green, like the pine trees at night.

“That’s not what you wished for.”

He kissed one of your hands. His lips were soft but the gesture sent a shiver down your spine. Some part of you was responding to his touch while your higher reasoning was screaming to get away.

“Who are you?”

Your voice was only a whisper, but in the quiet room it was as loud as a scream. He looked at you, reading your face like a book. You did not know if it would be better to show your fear or hide it. What would make him leave?

“I am the mountain.”

He puffed out his chest a bit as he said that. The mountain. What kind of name was that? You had known everyone who had lived in your hometown and no one was called San. Maybe he was a tourist who happened to be in the forest? Then it struck you. The altar. The mountain, San. This man was not a man at all. He was the god of the mountain and you had brought him to your home. That’s what you get from being nice, an uninvited guest. Great.

“And I decided to grant your wish.”

You were not ready to process any new information, but here he was, talking. Was it even possible that this man was the god of the mountain? No one had seen you in the forest. You had been alone yesterday evening and just now when you had made breakfast, the door had still been locked. So unless he broke into your apartment just now… no, you had not heard or seen anything out of the ordinary.

“You doubt me.”

San was clearly disappointed in your lack of faith. He stared at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. You had every right to be suspicious of some random dude who claimed to be a god.

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly and looked around your bedroom. The little pout on his face made him look cuter and less scary, but he was still plenty scary. He let go of your hands and left the room. Maybe I should run for it. You sprang from the bed and in a few steps you were at the bedroom door. Where you almost ran into San. He was both taller and shorter than you had expected. Just like the mountain. His legs were longer than usual for someone his height.

“Here.”

In his hand was the basil plant you had bought a few days ago. It did not look too hot. The leaves had started to hang down and some were already crumpeling.

“Yeah, I should throw it out...”

San was appalled.

“But it’s still alive!! Look!”

He stared at the plant and it became healthy again. With your mouth open you stared at the plant. Its leaves were full and beautifully green again. The smell of basil filled the room.

“So you believe me now?”

The smug smile on his face was almost too much. You nodded reluctantly. San brought the plant back to the kitchen, while you sank down on the bed. There is a deity in my apartment. San sat down on the bed next to you.

“So, what was my wish?”

What dumb shit have I wished for? A smile so mischievous it made the hairs in your neck stand appeared on his face. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear:

“Hot sex.”

Oh fuck. The reason why you had gone to the Candy Shop had been to get something nice for you. It had been so long since you had been with someone. Sex with a good looking guy sounded so good. San was here and he was offering to give you what you wanted. But wait.

“Didn’t I say “a cute boyfriend”?”

San pursed his lips. “Technically, you did. ‘Cute and caring’”

“So, then where is my boyfriend?”

You pushed your jaw forward in a defiant manner. If you were going to get your wish, it had to be the right one. There was no way he could just make a guy appear out of thin air, could he?

“Am I not cute?”

The fake outrage in his voice was indeed cute, but hell would freeze over before you would admit that.

“What? Are you saying you will be my boyfriend?”

He stared at you and you stared back. It was totally absurd. San could not seriously mean he would be your boyfriend, right?

“Yes.”

You honestly did not have a comeback to that. San had said it like he meant it. I guess he didn’t have to make someone appear out of thin air after all. He is already here.

“Can I change my wish?”

You did not look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. It had been a mistake, actually several mistakes. You should not have gone to the mountain, or cleaned the altar.

“Do you dislike me this much?”

San sounded almost hurt. What had he expected? That you would just lay down and spread your legs?

“You just showed up here, unannounced. What am I supposed to-“

You stopped yourself. Maybe it was not a good idea to yell a god. It was unclear what he could do besides making plants grow and looking good. San shifted beside you and when you looked at him, he lay on your bed.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

He looked up at you. In that position, one arm probed up holding his head, he reminded you of the old timey rich people lounging on chairs.

“Why do you want to grant me a wish anyways?”

He hesitated. You had asked a sensitive question.

“I am in your debt.”

“Then make me rich and rest peacefully that you have settled your debt.”

You turned more towards him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. You had to be careful now with your tone. One wrong word now could have bad consequences, so you just looked at him.

“I can’t do that.”

He pressed the words out and avoided your eyes. The fabric of the sheets was suddenly much more interesting. You wondered if he was telling the truth. Why was he insisting on this stupid wish you had made.

“What is in it for you? If you tell me honestly, I will consider it.”

His eyes flickered to your face before studying the sheets again.

“I can leave the mountain.”

He told the bed. “No one believes in me anymore...”

You wondered what the consequences of that were, but now was not the time to ask. So if he played house with you he could stay out here, instead of being alone in the forest. You were sick of being alone too. All the times you had felt lonely, may come to an end now, if you just said yes to San.

“If I said yes, what would happen?”

He tried to hide his relief, his hope, but failed. A smile appeared on his face. San sat up and his eyes sparkeled with delight and mischief.

“I would grant the more pressing part of your wish first.”

You wrinkled your brows. The more pressing part? He leaned closer and whispered in a velvety voice.

“You want to be licked, to ride on a big cock and be pounded until you come. That's the pressing part.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Yes, that was exactly what you wanted. In that order. He looked into your eyes. The more you looked at him the more beautiful he became. Just this once you did not want to overthink everything.

“So, what do you say?”

“What will happen after that?” You could feel his breath on your neck. His lips brushed over your skin. You swallowed audibly.

“I will do anything you want me to do.”

To make his point he kissed your neck. Gently sucking on the sensitive skin there. You move your head to grant him better access. His lips on you made your head spin already. Who would it be if they were somewhere else?

“Okay.”

You sighed and bit your lips. It was time to embrace this weird situation and be bold.

“Eat me out, San.”

He groaned against your skin, when you said his name. His lips landed on yours and he wasted no time. His tongue begged for entrance, sliding over your lips. You were not sure what you had expected, but you were surprised by how normal his mouth felt. San was warm and smelled of the forest after rain.

Your hands buried themselves in his long hair. You thought about untying it but it would be better to wait a bit longer. His Hands slipped under the hem of your pajama pants and between your legs. You gasped as his fingers touched your clit and slipped into you briefly.

“Apparently I will have to do a bit more to get you riled up, my love.”

San smirked at you and positioned himself between your legs. He made sure that he had your attention before he untied the fastings of his jacket. He did not wear anything under it so you had an unobscured view of his body; and what a nice body it was. The way his upper body tempered towards his waist was breathtaking. You wanted to touch him, ran your hands over his body. Right now was not the time though.

He pulled down your pants and kissed your thighs. San did not waste time and went straight to the point. He sucked and licked your clit, slowly circling it before flicking it with his tongue. You grabbed his hair and he smirked against your skin. His tongue moved down, ran around your entrance and dipped in briefly before moving up again. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, your moan quietly. You wanted to close your eyes and concentrate on the feeling of tongue flicking against you, but you also wanted to see him. He slowed the pace down and licked your clit. You felt his fingers circling your entrance before pushing in. The two fingers barely met any resistance and after a few more slow movements he pulled out.

He kissed the inside of your thighs and you groaned. That was not where you wanted his mouth to be.

“How about you ride me now?”

He looked up at you expectantly. If you did not know better, you would have thought he was giving you puppy eyes.

“You’re pretty eager.”

It was only half a joke. You raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I am.”

Damn. I guess the immortal god of the mountain is not so selfless after all.

“Lie down.”

He was about to take off the jacket but you stopped him.

“Keep it.”

The way it revealed his chest and abs without being completely shirtless looked very sexy. San lay down on his back and you straddled his hips. The tent in his pants made it very evident how much he wanted this. You ran your hands over his chest and loved how his skin felt. It still seemed surreal that he was there, in your bed. Like a dream. But it was not a dream. He felt as solid and real as one could get. You leaned down to kiss his neck. It was so graceful. This close to him you could see the faint freckles on neck, that made him even prettier. You lightly sucked on the spot midway down his neck. He sighed and goosebumps appeared on his soft skin. You looked at his face to see him looking back at you.

“You’re very pretty.”

There was a part you wanted to make a joke out of it a la “you need to get your eyes checked” but you didn’t. It did not sound like a joke.

“You too, Mr Mountain.”

He smiled at the nickname. His hair was not as neat as earlier. You had tucked on it, while he had eaten you out and now some parts of the hair stood out more. Not many hairs had come loose completely though.

“Can I untie your hair?”

He reached for the tie and released it. How could he look any more stunning? With his long hair spilling over the pillow. He smirked up at you. It was very annoying that San knew how much he affected you.

“Are you motivated enough to ride me now?”

Yes, you were very motivated now. You pulled down his pants. It was going to be very fast, judging by his girth. You aligned yourself above him and let yourself sink down on him. The stretch made you gasp. His hands came to rest on your hips. You could still move freely, so it felt like he needed something to hold on to. You gingerly rocked your hips and heard San sigh beneath you. His fingers pressed into your hips. Moving your hips was the only thing you wanted to do now. You felt so full and so close already. Maybe him between your legs earlier was the cause of that. You leaned back and the changed angle made him press against your g spot. Every move sent waves of pleasure through your body.

San sat up and looked into your eyes. A light blush had appeared on his face. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he closed the distance. The kiss made your heart flutter and clench around him. He kissed down your neck to your chest. Your hand flew to his hair when he took one nipple in his mouth. He sucked and circled it with his tongue.

“Say my name.”

It sounded like a plea. His mouth was on the other nipple now while his hand came up to continue. You moved your hips as much as possible with him sitting up. The light biting and twisting of the nipples send electric shocks to your core.

“Oh, San.”

It felt a bit odd to say that but San hummed against your chest, doubling his efforts. Your hand grabbed his hair tighter and you rock your hips fast. So close. He bit down a bit harder at just the right moment to make the wave of pleasure came crashing down. Without realizing it you muttered his name over and over.

A few more movements and your hips came to a hold. San wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. You sank against him and he held you. Your breathing calmed down as you enjoyed being held. He was still inside you and it felt so intimate that you wanted to lighten the mood with humor.

“So, am I going to birth a tree now?”

San chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“That’s not how that works.”

You smiled against his shoulder as his hands rubbed your back.

After a quick shower, you and San returned to your bedroom. You put on a t-shirt and sweatpants. San lay on the bed waiting for you. When you looked he spread his arms, waiting for you to fall into his arms. You could not help yourself but smile. He really was cute. You sank into his arms and he kissed the top of your head.

“What you wanna do now?”

You asked his chest. It was nice and warm in his arms. Would it be rude to fall asleep now? Your eyelids felt so heavy, it was hard to keep them open. You were not sure if he ever answered because you drifted off to sleep so fast.

And that is how you got yourself a boyfriend that had been a minor god for some time. The plants in your house never withered and from time to time you would visit your town. The altar was still there, in the middle of the forest, slowly being assimilated by nature, but San always went back to the city with you.

For that one person who forgot, 'San' literally means mountain in Korean XD

I'm willing to write some more episodes in this universe, so if you have a request (idk San meeting your friends for the first time or something like this), send me an ask :))

[struggling-with-time]

Rainy days [Corpse x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x Female!reader

Summary: “corpse x fem!reader ( she’s also a youtuber ) where they are just friends for a few years, but reader has been developing feelings for a while now. with corpse’s fan base growing so quickly, there’s also a lot of growing attention from other girls ( fans & other social media influencers ). corpse is happy with all the attention, while it is breaking the reader’s heart more every day. basically, super angsty lol and it’s totally up to you how you want to end it!” requested by anon

“please make one where like the reader and corpse fought so its like raining outside and yk the cliche type” requested by anon

Warnings: Angst and jealousy, kinda sad, I’m sorry

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Open for requests. Two requests for one.

Read part 2 cloudy afternoons here

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You’re happy for Corpse, of course you are. What good friend wouldn’t be happy for their friend when they suddenly start to shoot for the stars? You definitely would. Right? It’s not like it hurts to watch him take in all these girls that throw themselves at him, he has never been happier for the many years you’ve known him. His YouTube channel is finally paying the bills for him, and you’re happy he doesn’t have to fear getting an eviction note, for dancing on the line a little too long. You’re happy that he has all these new friends. You’re happy he’s enjoying himself. You’re happy, because he’s happy.  So why does it hurt so much?

You’ve had feelings for your best friend for quite some time. You tried to push them away, which in return just seemed to cultivate them and make them stronger. You tried your damn best just to be his quirky happy best friend that was along with him for the ride. You never minded being the one to pick up the pieces when he fell apart. He would do the same for you… He would do the same for you, right?

You wipe away a tear escaping from your eye. You’re sitting in the shower crying on the floor. This is really what you’ve become? You think to yourself, as you lean your head back against the wall, looking up at the wooden ceiling.

He would do the same for you…

You dryly laugh to yourself, of course he wouldn’t, because then he would have known when you started pulling away. You wipe the tears away, get up and rise off your face once more, before stepping out. You look at where your mirror used to be. You took it down, not able to face yourself was easier than to accept this is just how you look permanently now. Dark circles underneath your eyes, as they’ve sunken quite a bit.

You kind of forgot how you really looked sometimes, until you caught yourself in something reflective, like your pc when it ran out of power, or your metallic glazed mug. You smile bitterly at the memory, Corpse had bought it to you when you reached 100.000 subs on YouTube, saying the play button wasn’t enough. It used to be a prized possession, now it was one of your worst.

You’re happy you build your YouTube brand on variety gaming, without a face cam. You couldn’t imagine having to explain away the way you looked. The monotone in your voice was hard enough.

I was just having an off day

Sorry, kind of sick today

My microphone isn’t picking up my voice probably.

You sigh to yourself as you collect your phone, and your empty bag. The fridge doesn’t fill itself. You’re pretty sure your fans caught onto something being wrong by the 4th excuse. You lock the door behind you, and glace up at the sky. It seems to be getting darker. You sigh as you realize you’re not going to be back home before it’s raining.

You walk the short distance down to the bus as you wait for it to arrive, you scroll through your twitter feed. It’s filled with pretty girls, much prettier than you are, throwing themselves at Corpse. You get a sudden urge to throw your phone into the passing traffic, but money has been tight lately with your down tuning of content, to take more time to be able to self-pity in the living room with a shitty romance show going on.

You really lost your best friend to your own feelings, huh. What an anticlimax.

You step onto the bus, not noticing the black dressed, black masked guy in the end of it. Watching you intentionally. If you had been able to read minds, you would hear the ongoing battle in his head on whether or not to approach you.

The bus pulls up the grocery store and you get off. Not sparing the other two passengers getting off a second thought. You pull your jacket closer together, as the wind starts getting colder. You finally arrive in the store, just a few seconds before the rain starts to drop.

The calming ominous music of the store fills your eyes, as you focus on getting something edible that isn’t directly just sugar with more sugar. You pick your groceries carefully, nothing that needs a lot of preparation. But if you eat one more tv meal, you’re going to throw it up. You’re too distracted by what pasta to choose, that you don’t realise the guy in black has now passed you for the 5th time, while you’re in aisle 9.

You choose both and head for the register. You sigh as you watch the long line, there’s only one way out, and you’re certainly not leaving your groceries now. You step in line. And pull out your phone. The lock screen taunting you with a picture of you and Corpse mushed together somehow in his gaming chair, you’re pretty sure it was Dave that took the photo. You shake your head and check the time. The bus just left. You sigh knowing there is a little over an hour before the next one leaves. Fucking public transport.

It finally becomes you, you watch the price tick up further and further. You take your card out. Swipes it through.

Declined.

What? You try it again

Declined.

C’mon, it has got to work. You try again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

And again

Declined.

You smile apologetic to the cashier, as you start to figure out what you won’t be needing too much.

“I’ll pay for her.”  A deep voice speaks further down the line. You know exactly the person whose voice that is.

“Please, you don’t have to-“ You watch as Corpse steps out of the line and puts a box of cereal on the register for the cashier to ring up with the rest of your stuff.

“I don’t-“

“That’ll be 79 dollars and 32 cents, please.” The cashier ignores you.

Corpse pays and gets the receipt, knowing you’re going to beg him for you to pay him back. You used to do the same when you were little. Corpse stands by as he watches you pack your groceries, and he waits for you. He barely recognized you in the bus. It’s been weeks since you last spoke, and even longer since you last saw each other. He knows you were getting bad, but not this bad. He don’t know why he never reached out he knows he should. But there are too many unsaid things hanging in the air, and neither of you wanting to be the one to pick the first one.

He reaches out to take one of the two bags. But you take it right underneath him, and walk to the doors, leaving him to hurry after or be left behind.

“Y/N I-“

He gets surprised by the rain, he hadn’t noticed the darkening sky earlier. You keep walking until he calls out after you again.

“Y/N! Please!”

You stop in you tracks. To think you had missed hearing your name from his lips, he uses it like it’s not the only thing you have left that’s your own.

He jogs the remaining distance and puts his hand on your shoulder, and you let him turn you around to make him face you. He’s not sure if it’s the rain, or if it’s tears that’s starting to fall. He takes the rest of your face in, the dark circles, the clear weight loss. He know, you don’t know how much you don’t look like yourself.

“Listen, thank you, I’ll pay you back next month. But if you’re not going to say anything, I have places to be, and-“

He puts his hand on her chin caressing it. She suddenly looks so small standing there in front of him. You quickly pull yourself back, wanting to lean into his touch, but knowing that it would only make what hurts, hurt more in the end.

“What did you want?” You snap at him. And something snaps in him too, as his brows furrows together.

“Oh I don’t know. Say hi to my best who just up and disappeared from the face of earth two months ago. I wonder what I want.” He snaps back at you, his deep voice nearly emitting a growl of frustration from him.

“So what, that’s what it takes 2 months before you want to find me. Did you get tired of all those girls throwing themselves at you? Did you get tired of your new friends you just cast me aside from? Did you get tired of all the money? Please do tell.” You stretch out your arms in a welcoming stance.

Corpse takes a step back, you’ve never yelled at him like this before. Tears streaming down your face as you’re soothing anger.

“…You think I threw you aside?” Corpse sucks in a breath waiting for your anger to come at him, but instead you suddenly look small again.

“Didn’t you Corpse? The excuse why I could never come over anymore, why you never had time. I was happy for you, you know, I supported you all the way. Heck I even fucking loved you, and you cast me aside, you up and threw away so many memories and a long friendship, just because I suddenly didn’t fit into your new group.” You look him straight in the eyes. “Corpse, I’m tired okay. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep picking up your pieces and help you reassemble yourself, for you to keep casting me aside. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t need your pity; I don’t need anything from you. I’ll make sure you get the money first thing next month.”

She takes a step away from him, the before intimate atmosphere now fully escaped.

“All I ask is that we part here. I love you too much to watch you fall apart again.” Your voice is trembling as you turn around heading for the bus stop, leaving Corpse in the rain to fend for himself.

[dameronology]

love in the time of PTA meetings {marcus moreno} - 1/5

summary: despite what pinterest shows, being in a parent in the twenty first century is hard; especially a single parent. your kid takes up your entire life and the idea of finding a fairy tale is laughable - that is until you finally attend a p.t.a meeting and cross paths with a certain marcus moreno.  {series masterlist}

warnings: i do not have children. i don’t know children work. this written entirely what i have seen them do in the sims 4. also, swearing. 

- jazz

Leaving work early was never a good look.

Leaving work early because your child had managed to set fire to a trash can was...well, it was something else entirely.

After rushing out of a very important meeting and parking your car in a did-you-park-it-or-crash-it manner, you were sprinting across the play ground and towards the front entrance. Having given up half way through, you’d kicked your stupidly high heels off and held them in one hand, trying to organise your slightly disheveled hair as you entered the building. Most parents might have been nervous to collect their kid after a call from the principle, but this was a regular Tuesday for you. Jack was a good kid, perhaps just a little...misguided. In your books, it was impressive that a five year old had managed to discover pyrotechnics, though you sensed the school might have been a little less lenient about it. 

‘Hey!’ You greeted the principle with a smile as you breezed through the doors. 

Jack was in a chair by the front desk, a gleeful look on his face when he saw you. As far as he knew or cared, he got to go home early and watch Paw Patrol for the rest of the day. 

‘Afternoon.’ He replied. ‘You’re lucky it was only a phone call.’

‘I know, I know.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m sorry. He’s...adventurous-’

‘ - he singed off his class mate’s eyebrows!’ The principle cut you off. ‘Given Monday’s biting incident, I see it fit that Jack take the rest of the week off.’

‘Right.’ You sighed. ‘Thank you. And sorry again.’

‘I’ll email you a list of...behavioural specialists.’ He muttered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my kid. He’s just...curious.’ You insisted. ‘C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.’

Jack sprung up from the chair, taking your hand in his and skipping out the door beside you. Parenting had been hard enough when you’d been married, and even harder now that his dad was out of the picture. It meant that everything fell on your shoulders; school runs, packed lunches, earning money, staying sane. You barely found the time to sleep, let alone go to soccer matches or take him to extra curricular activities. It meant that the stay-at-home mums - the ones who drove minivans and had specified walking shoes and shared memes about parenting on Facebook - muttered about you. 

I heard Jack’s mum couldn’t make it to the parent-teacher association meeting because there was a divorce hearing. 

Look at the kid’s lunch! Oh the saturated fat, the horror!

What do you MEAN your five year old isn’t vegan?!

Frankly, you wanted to whack them over the head with their own damn vision boards. So what if your kid was a little rough around the edges? He’d discovered fire today! If it had been in the stone ages, that would have been impressive. The kind of thing that would have earned him a McDonald’s, had the fast food chain been around at the dawn of time. With the way things were going, paired with the fact you knew your fridge was empty, it looked like you were heading for a Happy Meal anyway. 

‘So do I get all week off?’ Jack peered up at you, tugging on your arm.

‘Yup, all week.’ You sighed. ‘But it’s not a reward, okay? It’s...’

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Marcus Moreno’s car pull up in the lot. Naturally, it was expensive and electric and perfectly between the white lines. He gave your less-than-stellar parking a frown as he breezed by - not that you noticed. Frankly, you were too busy admiring him. You saw his face more on the news than you did in person, but he was beautiful. Talk, dark, handsome and mysterious, but also...friendly and approachable. He’d held the door open for you once two years ago and that had been it for you. There had been whispers about the fact he was a widow, though you’d tried not to pay attention to them. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business. You knew he was a good dad; you’d had the chance to meet Missy when Jack had got his head stuck between the playground fence and she’d helped pull him out. She was sweet and well-behaved and clearly well brought up. Could you say the same for your own kid? Eh, parenting was all trial and error. 

‘It’s what?’ Your son’s voice dragged you back to reality. ‘Am in trouble?’

‘What?!’ You jumped at the question. ‘No, I just...’

‘Because Principle Eikner said I’d done something bad.’

A small sigh escaped your mouth; placing his backpack on the ground, you knelt down to his height, gently placing your hands on his shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, little man. We're just gonna take a few days out to talk about the rules and what it means to do the right thing, okay?’

‘Dad always said not to listen to the rules.’

‘Your dad said a lot of things.’ You reminded him. You stood back up, offering your hand to him. ‘Let’s go home.’

After a few minutes of bartering and the promise of a McDonald’s, you finally made your way back to the car, now with Jack attached to your back. If giving him a piggy back ride meant getting home quicker, it was a price you were willing to pay, especially since the other mums were starting to arrive to pick up their kids. The parking lot was slowly filling up with minivans - compared to your decade-old Honda Civic. It had seen better days, and one too many run ins with other cars and parking lot bollards. Still, it got the job done. 

‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ You froze in your tracks again. This time, it wasn’t because of Marcus Moreno’s otherworldly presence, but rather due to the sound of the resident soccer mum. 

‘Carol.’ You turned around to face her (slowly, given the five year old on your back) with a forced smile on your face. ‘Hi.’

‘I take it you’re here for the parent-teacher’s association meeting?’ She gave you a phoney grin, handing you a leaflet. ‘I know you couldn’t make the last one, because of your...d-i-v-o-r-c-e hearings.’ 

‘I can spell!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘It’s okay, buddy.’ You reached up to ruffle his hair, smile not faltering. ‘But yeah, you’re right. And what about it?’

‘Nothing.’ Carol quickly shook her head. ‘So you are coming to this one? It starts in ten minutes.’

Truth be told, you’d no idea there was even a meeting tonight. You usually ignored the damn things until the news letter came out, and then you could read it from the comfort of your sofa with a glass of wine. There was nothing you stopping going tonight, aside from your intense hatred for them. 

‘I wanna get home and watch South Park!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘I don’t - I mean...I don’t let my five year old watch South Park.’ You said. ‘He walked in on me watching it one time and...point is, yes, I’m here for the meeting!’

‘No, you’re not-’

‘- Jack, just sssh!’ 

Carol blinked in surprise, but her phoney smile returned a moment later. ‘Excellent! I’ll see you inside.’

You inwardly groaned. Why had you just done that? You fucking despised sitting in a stuffy gym for the better part of an hour, listening to the perfect mums bang on about healthy eating and limiting their kids’ internet time. You already questioned your parenting skills as it was - the meetings only made it worst. You didn’t assimilate into that crowd; they were all married, with big houses out in the ‘burbs and bank accounts that could cover their kids ever-expanding interests and activities. Meanwhile, you were living on one wage and your two-bedroom apartment had a balcony, not a back garden. If Jack wanted to go on a field trip, you usually had to save up for months. You didn’t know if you envied the other mums’ lives, but you certainly weren’t jealous of how they viewed working mums and single parents. 

‘That lady is mean.’ Jack murmured from your shoulders.

‘Yeah buddy, I know.’ You nodded. ‘Guess we’re going back to school.’

--

Lugging the kid and his bag back up the school yard and towards the building was exhausting - at least it was your work out for the week done. By the time you’d reached the gym and placed Jack back on the ground, your shoulders were aching and you were disappointed to see that the refreshments didn’t have any alcohol. Was it too late to sneak out? The fire exit was right there and-

‘- shame this thing doesn’t have any wine, huh?’ A man was stood next to you, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the luke-warm jug of coffee on the table ahead. 

Tall, dark hair, stubble and with a faint hint of expensive aftershave you pretended not to notice? Hello, Marcus Moreno. Goodbye, ability to form coherent sentences.

You blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah. I could do with a glass. Or ten.’

‘So you hate these things too, huh?’ He smiled. 

‘With a passion.’ You returned the gesture. ‘I’m only here because Carol and her Karen Committee kept muttering about me not being at the last one.’

‘Yeah, same here. I was attending an emergency meeting about nuclear arms in Vienna, but I guess this is more important.’

‘I was...’ in court, signing documents to end my marriage, ‘otherwise occupied too.’

Marcus nodded in understanding. ‘Kids alone are a full time job, huh? ‘Specially when you’re the only one who’s running around after them.’

He knew about your situation and in return, figured that you knew about his. He’d heard the whispers about the divorce and presumed that the loss of his wife had been subject to similar gossip. The environment amongst the parents was shockingly similar to high school and things got around pretty quickly. You both hated it, especially given the nature of both your circumstances; death and separation was not something other people should have been talking about. Especially when you all you wanted to do was mind your own business and raise your damn (chaotic) kid.

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ You replied. ‘My kid is like...a baby crackhead, as well. He’s been sent home twice this week and it’s only Wednesday.’

‘Oh, Jack’s your kid?’

You let out a groan, holding your face in your hands. ‘Yeah. Famously so, apparently.’

‘No, it’s not a bad thing!’ Marcus chuckled, pulling your hands away. ‘He played a brilliant baby Jesus in the Nativity last year.’

‘Aside from when he bit one of the three wise men, yeah.’ You could feel your cheeks heating up. ‘Missy actually helped him once. She seems really...not at all like my child. Which is good.’

‘She told me about the fence incident.’ He nodded. ‘May I ask why he was shoving his head out of the school gates?’

‘He saw an interesting looking slug.’ You replied.

Your conversation was interrupted by Carol, who had now climbed up on stage. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, gesturing to everyone to sit down so that the meeting could start. You wanted to curse her. Whatever giddy conversation you were having with Marcus was a thousand times more interesting than the PTA. At least you could revel in the fact he didn’t want to be here either.

‘Shall we?’ Marcus gestured to two empty seats a few rows back.

‘I mean, it’s an aisle seat, which is good for a quick escape if Jack decides to be Jack,’ you nodded in agreement. ‘Hey kid, c’mon!’

Turning away from the other kids, Jack sprinted towards you, hurling himself into your lap as he sat down. You let out an oof! and a groan. He wasn’t as light as he used to be a toddler. He stayed still for a moment, tiny hands clasping yours, before he realised who you were sat next to. The kids’ impression of Marcus was not quite the same as yours - he’d only seen him on TV, with the likes of all the heroes. You couldn’t remember their names (but in your defence, they were kind of ridiculous). 

‘Are you a superhero?’ He reached up, poking Marcus in the cheek. 

‘Jack!’ You hissed. ‘You can’t-’

‘- yeah, buddy.’ Marcus ruffled his hair. ‘But it’s my day off today, so I’m doing all this boring stuff instead.’

‘Can you fly? Do you know Miracle Guy? Have you fought aliens? Do you have a super suit? Do you know Iron Man? Wait! Can I be a superhero?!’

‘No, yes, yes, no, no and maybe when you’re older.’ He counted the questions off on his fingers. ‘But for now we have to keep quiet for the meeting. That would make you a superhero.’

--

You wanted to marry Marcus Moreno.

Seriously, you wanted to marry him.

His little comment had kept Jack quiet the entire meeting. And it was a long fucking meeting indeed. The last time he’d shut up for that long was...probably before he learnt to talk. You loved he was full of curiosity and questions, but he didn’t always understand that there was a time and a place. At least now you knew what would shut him up. 

‘How does Miracle Guy fly? Is Batman real? Are you rich? Do you know Wonder Woman? How does her lasso of truth work?’

‘Jack.’ You groaned. 

You were walking out of the school now and down towards the car park. Missy was in tow, tapping away on her phone, whilst Jack trotted alongside you and Marcus. He’d been spewing questions at the poor man pretty much since the meeting had ended - and yet, he seemed happy to answer them. Excited, even. It was clear that he loved his job.

‘You gotta give Mr Moreno a break, little man.’ You said.

‘Hey, just Marcus is fine.’ He replied. 

‘Hey Just Marcus, I’m dad.’ Missy chimed from beside you, not even looking up from her phone. It was...impressive, actually.

‘I already regret buying her that.’ Marcus murmured. 

The two of you eventually reached your cars. The Civic was still terribly parked across two spaces - you were a good driver, you’d just been in a rush. The dents and scrapes all over the doors and bumper implied other wise but hey, we move. You had a thousand and one other things to save up before a new car. Putting down the deposit on a house - one you could actually own, maybe a little further out from the city - was your number one concern. Paying off your divorce attorney came after that. 

‘It was nice to meet you properly.’ You pulled your keys out your back, tugging four empty packets of crisps and three bags of gummy worms with it. 

‘I’m not done asking questions-’

‘- you gotta let Marcus go, JJ.’ You peered down at Jack. ‘Sorry. He’s a little obsessed with the Heroics, but I guess you’ve worked that one out.’

‘Can I visit your base?’ He continued, ignoring you. 

Marcus knelt down to his height, a grin on his face. ‘I’ve got a free window tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come by? Your mum tells me you’re off school for the rest of the week.’ 

‘Really?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘I mean, I’m sure he would love that but I’m at work and he’s gotta go to my mum’s.’

Your mother also doubled up as your baby-sitter. In an ideal world, you would have been able to afford a professional, but this was very much the opposite of an ideal world. It was the real world, and you were constantly juggling a thousand things at once. Never in a million years would you have changed it but there were days when you wanted to cry. When it was 9PM and Jack suddenly chimed in that he had a science project due the next day, or when he refused to eat his dinner because his chicken nuggets weren’t shaped like dinosaurs and fed them to the dog. 

Marcus looked, on the surface at least, like he had his shit together. He worked in a public facing job and he always looked put together. His car wasn’t covered in bumps and bruises and the inside probably wasn’t covered in yoghurt like yours. He seemed as though he got more than five hours sleep a night and his child was well-behaved. 

‘I’m sure we can work something out.’ He said. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Uh, yeah! Of course.’ He’d asked for your number. No big deal. 

You switched phones - naturally, his was much more high-tech than yours - and entered in your respective numbers. The whole thing made you admire Marcus even more; he didn’t have to have your tyrannical son over to his office, yet he offered to. He’d clearly seen how excited he’d gotten and it seemed like he’d found it endearing. 

‘Are you okay?’ Marcus asked quietly, suddenly putting his hand on your shoulder. ‘You suddenly zoned out.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘I got about three hours sleep last night. I would blame it on the terrible twos but I guess it’s the...fucking awful fives?’

He quickly turned his attention to Jack, opening the car door for him. ‘You wanna hop in? I’m just gonna talk to your mom about you visiting, yeah?’

'There’s Cheetos in the centre console!’ You called after him.

Once Marcus had shut the door, he turned around to face you. There was silence for a minute, and he just kind of...stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression or quite figure it out, but he had an eyebrow quirked and a look of...concern? Sympathy?

‘I recognise that look. It’s the help! I’m suddenly a single parent to a five year old and it feels like the world is eating me alive look.’ He said. ‘It’s the exact same one I had six years ago. Missy was about Jack’s age when...when it became just me and her.’

You softly smiled. ‘It’s not been easy.’

‘You’re doing a good job, okay?’ He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. ‘And if you ever need him off your hands for a few hours, I’ll gladly give him a tour of our headquarters.’

‘Thank you. So much, for both of those things.’ Your eyes fell to the ground. ‘It’s a refreshing change from Carol and her Pinterest boards and half-assed invitations to potlucks.’

‘God, I can’t stand all that.’ Marcus chuckled. 

‘I gotta get back now because I can see that Jack is about smush Cheetos over my break pedals but I’ll...’ you trailed off, forcing yourself to look at him and smile. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I look forward to it.’ 

[hacked-by-jake]

New Life

Summary: Finally you will move to Duskwood and start a new life. A moving with the help of the chaotic Duskwood Squad and a shamed hacker with the wrong moving box, can it be more beautiful?

Pairing: Group & Fem!MC x Jake

Words: 4,4 k

A/n: Welcome to this OneShot. After a long time something of my own. I dreamed about it and so the idea came. So I hope you’ll like it and have fun. Excuse the mistakes etc etc etc.

Take care and stay healthy! Much love.❤️

4 a.m.

"Shit" you hiss annoyed and look at the stain of coffee on the floor, which was sweped in your haste over the edge of the cup, "My poor coffee".

Because of sorrow you forgot again why you even walked to the door.

You want to make your way to get a cloth when it rings again, "Oh right" you shake your head over your forgetfulness. It’s just too early for you.

Quickly you open the door to your apartment and look in two radiant faces belonging to Dan and Richy, your heroes of the day.

"Good morning" both say at the same time and you would just like to crawl back into bed.

"Good morning guys, come in. Careful not to step on the coffee, he did not deserve it"

Hectically you put your cup next to the door on the small dresser to go to the kitchen and get something to wipe away.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Dan asks you as you come back with quick steps.

"You look tired, haven’t you slept?" Richy asks, grinning, you shake your head.

"Only about half an hour and that was an accident. I didn’t want to sleep," you explain.

"Why?" Richy looks around the almost empty apartment. All that’s left are only the biggest furniture you’ll be taking with you and a lot of moving boxes.

"I had to pack so much stuff and besides I was really excited. Do any of you want coffee? I made more, and I left two more cups outside." You’re offering.

The eyes of both men grow big,"I certainly don’t say no to coffee," Richy jokes and follows you into the kitchen.

"Just take what you need. I still have to pack the rest of my clothes and the stuff from the bathroom" You already ran off only to then make a 180 degree turn, "My cup" you mumble and grab it.

"MC, let’s take it easy, we have all the time in the world," Dan rebukes you and you sighing.

"I’m sorry, I’m probably more excited than I thought," you apologize and drop into the chair at your kitchen table.

"This is normal. You don’t move to a completely strange and creepy city every day," Richy throws in and immediately gets a nasty look from Dan.

"Are you serious?" he asks, "You’re not making it better!"

Richy looks embarrassed in your a little desperate face, "But for that, this will be the coolest time of your life!" he tries to save the situation, "Hey, think about it, the Duskwood Squad is finally completely united in a few hours!"

The prospect of the time you are about to be with your friends, and that always without having to go home, also makes you smile like the two men

"But it’s about time, Shorty, we miss you at our place.

A visit every few months is simply not enough, or just for one night over the weekend. You should have seen the girls the last days, there was no rest"

Dan finds just the right words to calm you down. You’ve waited so long to move to Duskwood, and now it’s finally time. A new phase in your life with a group of good friends that you met during a worst-case similar situation.

Since then, there hasn’t been a day when you haven’t written or spoken on the phone. You’ve played so much Doodle Splash to pass the time for your next visit that you feel like you’ve painted more than Picasso ever did

"You are right! " you agree resolutely, "time for the best time of my life! "

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

"I actually thought you had a few less things," Richy stands breathless in your apartment door. Of course, the big things, like your couch, your bed and your desk, were brought into the truck first which Richy borrowed from a friend company for removals.

And now for about 20 minutes you’ve been carrying one box after the other downwards to store it. In between, even one of your neighbors came to help, who actually wanted to go to work but still had a few minutes.

"That’s because the boxes are too small," you joke, and Richy looks at you with a look that clearly says 'You don’t believe that yourself'.

Defending you raise your hands and push with your foot another box over to him, which he can bring down.

About 10 minutes later, in which you had to take out all the boxes again, and put them back in, you put down the last box in your hallway. Behind you, Dan and Richy come up the stairs as you pull the little key to your former apartment out of your pocket and sigh.

"Finish!" Richy cheers and puts an arm around your shoulders, "Are you ready?" Dan asks you and you nod. A little sad, you put the key in the keyhole one last time and lock up.

Dan takes the last box from you and you go down the stairs together. You throw the key into the mailbox as agreed with your landlord and turn around one last time.

Determined not to be sad or rather melancholic, you climb forward into the truck behind Richy while Dan closes the big cargo hatch.

He himself gets into the driver’s seat.

"Let’s go into your new life" he announces solemnly as he starts the engine.

"Into a new life"

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

"I wanna be the very best!

Like no one ever was!

To catch them is my real test

To train them is my cause" you all shout the theme music of Pokémon.

Richy has turned on his playlist where all the songs you can only imagine are. You’ve been driving for about an hour and a half.

"POKÉMON!" Richy screams and throws his hand into the air.

"Don’t shout!" Dan grumbles and gives him a annoyed look, "You just screamed too!" the mechanic defends himself and twists his eyes. "I need another coffee, I’m driving to the next rest stop, otherwise I won’t make it for the next two hours," says Dan and you agree.

At the gas station you get yourself a new coffee and a snack. Actually 3 hours are not so much driving, but with the grumpy Dan and the lively Richy, who are two clowns at the same time, it can be exhausting.

After you get back to the truck, and this time Richy drives on, you actually managed to fall asleep after half an hour.

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

"Wake up, Shorty" you hear the voice of the bearded man far away, "We are almost there," he explains and you open your eyes. You need a short moment to realize where you are and what’s going on, but then you straighten up. Your head was lying on Dan’s shoulder.

"Sorry" you mumble and stretch as much as possible with so little space." It’s fine. I almost slept myself" he waves off and you just nod. No wonder, the two boys also left at 1 a.m., to be with you in time.

In fact, you can already see that you will reach the entrance of Duskwood in about 5 minutes. You’ve been driving this way so many times, you know the way around, like in your own hometown.

"I’m so glad I don’t have to drive any further," Richy whines and drums with his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that sounds quietly from the radio.

"When the truck is empty, you have to bring it back" Dan reminds him. Without going into the mocking comment, the mechanic turns the radio a little louder.

When the sign 'Welcome to Duskwood' appears in your sight, you start to grin broadly. Nervously you slide back and forth on the seat and bite your lower lip.

Richy crosses the border into the small town with secrets you still have learned to love.

"Welcome to Duskwood" Richy congratulates you and you happily clap your hands.

Welcome new life.

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

When you turn into the street where your apartment is, very close to Jessy’s, you almost jump up from your seat. Just the seatbelt holds you back when you see the rest of the group standing outside the door: Jessy, Cleo, Thomas, Lilly and Hannah.

All 5 wave wildly and Richy pushes twice on the horn to greet. As far as the side of the road goes, Richy stops the truck and you quickly unbuckle yourself. You rip the door, and without using the stairs, you jump out of the car, "Leave the door where it belongs!" you hear Richy shout, but you’ve been on your way down for a long time.

"Hello" calls all of you in a choir as a tight and not quite gentle hug with the 4 girls takes place. All at the same time you fall into each other’s arms. Compliments are exchanged and joy about the move announced.

"You pretend you haven’t seen each other for four years!" you hear Richy laugh and roll his eyes. "That’s how it feels," Hannah chuckles next to you.

"Hello MC" Thomas shouts amused and you stretch an arm in the air and waves in an indefinite direction, "Hello Thomas, I don’t know where you stand but HI!"

After you finally broke up from each other, Hannah holds out your new front door key that she kept for you. She was the one who looked for apartments for you on the spot when you couldn’t be here. She took over the visits and took pictures. If it was possible, she took you with her through a video call.

"Congratulations MC, welcome to the family" she smiles.

"Thank you folks, it’s so nice to finally be here!"

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

After you have arrived correctly and you have looked at your apartment once again in empty state, you have started to bring everything into the apartment. Now, of course, things are moving much faster with more people.

You’ve built up in the stairwell to the second floor: Dan, Richy, Thomas, Cleo, Lilly, Jessy, Hannah and you.

In a row your carton reaches from person to person and quickly most of it is done. From your apartment comes music that you run via a Bluetooth speaker. Fortunately, you have labeled everything so that after all the boxes are in your apartment, you only have to push them into the right rooms. And then the big things come.

The three of them, Thomas Richy and Dan carry the sofa upstairs.

You just stand by with a slightly nervous face and hope no one gets hurt.

"You have to be careful! The sofa is tipping!" Dan shouts loudly as Richy tries another handle.

"I know! But I don’t want this thing to fall on my foot," Richy hisses. Thomas, who supports the side, only twists his eyes.

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

All the important parts are now in your apartment. Now, the truck is empty and ready to be brought back.

"Okay, I’ll bring the truck away, and you start here. I’ll come back when you’re done and I can get the beer I earned," Richy jokes as he takes the key off the kitchen table.

"You get nothing" you call laughing after him, "Oh wait until the man Without Face learns of your sin. To deny a working man his beer is bad!"

Laughing, you shake your head, "I’m waiting for the next new moon."

"How can you always joke about it?" Jessy asks without understanding.

"Well, that’s just relief," you explain and smile at her calmly.

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

4 hours, a lot of laughter, bad jokes, quarrels and almost broken furniture later, the most important is on the right place. The bed is built up and ready for the first night in the new apartment, in your new life.

"How’s your thumb, Richy?" Ask the sulking mechanic carefully.

"All right, I can take a lot, I’ll survive," he calms you down and presses the cooling pad more firmly on his finger.

A lot went wrong trying to build your wardrobe. Someone had forgotten a screw when the ceiling was mounted.

The moment Richy tried to hit a nail with a hammer in the lower area, the ceiling came loose and fell down.

Both side walls of the cabinet fell into each other, and Richy accidentally punched hit his thumb. For a few seconds you were all just staring at each other and then laughing. Fortunately, Richy’s injury wasn’t that bad, but you gave him something to cool down with.

And now almost everything is ready. There are only a few boxes missing, but you will take over yourself." Thanks for your great help, guys! Many thanks to Richy and Dan who picked me up and drove so long. And of course, thank you all so much for helping me here!"

You’re all sitting around the table in your living room. You’re sitting next to Jessy on the floor while everyone else is comfortable on the sofa and armchair.

"And again, for the thousandth time today; Welcome to Duskwood MC" Hannah cheers and keeps her beer up. All together you toast.

"I’m so tired," Dan mutters, sipping his drink." Oh yes, so am I," joins Richy and you nod.

"But it was worth it" Lilly smiles and looks around, "And as soon as it’s done, it can only be great!"

"Perfect!" Hannah improves her sister.

"Indescribable" agrees Jessy.

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

"See you guys tomorrow!" you call after the group and close the door.

Just a short and quiet moment you close your eyes exhausted. Preferably you just want to go to bed, but first you still want to unpack a little more.

The sound that tells you that you have received a message pulls you out of your mind.

You pull out your phone and smile when you see that it is Jake who wrote to you.

Jake: Hello, MC.

Jake: How did the move go?

MC: Hi, Jake. Pretty good, I’d say, exhausting and stressful, but good.

Jake: Have you finished?

MC: No, not quite, I do the rest myself, the others have done enough.

Jake: Do you like the apartment?

You grin, he has improved his skills for small talk since you met and Hannah return.

MC: Yes, it’s really nice, do you want to come? You can look around.

Hopeful you stare at the screen. It would be really nice to see Jake today.

What this is between you, you don’t know for sure, sometimes it goes ahead and sometimes back. You’ve seen each other a few times since Hannah was rescued. Mostly here in Duskwood.

After a difficult time between the three siblings and still the problem with Jake’s pursuers, everything has improved.

However he did it, he managed to turn all the tracks that linked him to the suspicion so that they no longer point to him. He is still very careful and occasionally travels from town to town for a few weeks but most of the time he is in Duskwood. This is where you first met.

After the first conversation between Hannah, Lilly and Jake and a lot of explanations, the hacker decided to take an apartment here to catch up the time with his sisters. Since then, he has also become a little more open and better in interpersonal relationships.

At some point he was in the vicinity of your old place of residence and then it happened that you have a day to drink coffee. And the next day in your apartment. The beginnings were sometimes a little difficult because of him because he really didn’t talk much, but after some time it became really nice. There was even a kiss. Your first kiss together.

It was on your balcony and it was at night, under the stars. But since then, not much exciting has happened, unfortunately.

Jake: I think I’d just bother you unpacking.

MC: Bullshit, of course not, I could use a little quieter company after the whole group was there :)

Jake: Don’t you want to go to sleep soon? You must be tired.

MC: Jake, don’t make excuses, if you don’t want to, you can just say no, that’s not bad for me. But I promise I’d be happy if you were here.

You watch him start writing and then delete the message.

Jake: I’m on my way :)

Without answering his message, you close your phone and stare at the bare wall facing you for seconds.

Then you can’t stop yourself from doing a little joy dance, "Yess!" you hisses and grins all over your face.

Jake won’t be long before he gets here, so you decide to clean up the empty bottles and candy that are still on the table.

Although it’s only about 10 minutes to wait, it feels like a half an eternity until it finally rings.

Before you open the door, shake all your limbs to loosen up and clear your throat.

Then you open the door.

The hacker, dressed in black as always, stands with a slight smile in your hallway, "Hello MC" he greets you with his melodic voice.

Immediately you get very warm and you try to keep your own smile small, "Hi Jake. Come in" you walk to the side to let him in.

-

Jake actually knows your apartment already.

Officially, you don’t know anything about this. But off the record, Hannah told you.

You couldn’t handle the handover of the apartment yourself, so Hannah did it for you, and Jake was with her. He had only told her that he was bored and wanted to come along, but when he looked around and said some things like, "MC has enough space here" and "This will be a good place for her" she realized that he just came to make sure the place was nice enough for you.

Nevertheless, he now curiously lets his gaze wander through the now filled apartment.

"When it is done, it will look really nice" he confirms after you have shown him everything, as well as explained the room layout.

"Yes, I think so," you agree and smile.

"What are you going to do next?" he asks, pointing to the boxes in which your clothes are still to be cleared into the closet.

"That’s exactly what" you answer and kick one of the boxes, "You can sit on the bed if you want, while I unpack," you are proposing and tear the tape off the cardboard.

"I can help you if you don’t mind," he offers and you nod, "Sure, if you want"

-

Cleaning up with the group was really fun, but now with Jake, it’s beautiful. The atmosphere is calm, not stressful or a mess. You talk about everything that comes to mind while Jake keeps holding clothes in front of your face so you can tell him where it belongs.

Two boxes are already empty. In your second one there is still a little bit inside and Jake is also on his way to get a new one. You watch him as he opens the box, only to close it again immediately afterwards. His cheeks turn pure red and his eyes squint nervously at you, "Uhm, I think I’ll take the box first" he mumbles and you can hear the trembling in his voice only too well.

"Why? What’s going on?" you wonder about his reaction.

"Nothing at all, everything okay, here’s another one" he scratches nervously in the neck and does not look at you when talking.

Skeptically you walk over to the box to take a look inside. When you open it, you quickly realize the reason for his shamed behavior.

Your underwear. You decide not to say anything to make it even more unpleasant for him, but you cannot hide the smile on your lips.

For the next few minutes, it’s quiet until it rings at your door. You look at your watch in wonder. It’s just before 9, and you’re not expecting anyone today.

"Be right back," you inform Jake, "And keep your hands off my underwear," as you disappear out the door, you can see him raising his head in a flash, staring at you with big eyes. Laughing you open the door, "Phil?" you ask surprised when you see Jessy’s brother standing there. Phil has also become a good friend of yours, you visited Aurora as a group several times when you were here.

"Hi MC" he greets you, "I hope I’m not interrupting? I actually have to leave right away again, the Aurora is crowded today.I just wanted to stop by and greet you in Duskwood and congratulate you on your move" he smiles his typical charming smile as you hug briefly, "Thanks Phil" you nod grateful. He separates from you and then does not joyfully pull up an eyebrow, he looks behind you and you turn around as well. Jake is standing in the living room and has the same annoyed look as Phil on his face.

"Have fun, you two," Phil grins a little cocky and puts his arms around you again, just quick.

As he disappears down the stairs, he still calls, "We have to do something together in the next few days."

You slowly close the door and turn around with a wide grin to Jake, who still looks dark at the door. Yeah, that Phil and Jake don’t like each other hasn’t changed. On the contrary.

Jake finds Phil is the most unsympathetic person in the world, and Phil thinks he’s better for you than Jake is.

When Jake frees himself from his rigidity, his attention falls on you. You bite your lower lips and put a hand in front your mouth to stop your next words. Even the hacker seems to know what is going on and looks warn, "Don’t say it"

Innocently you raise your eyebrows, "What? I don’t know what you mean, do you mean? -"

"Stop" Jake stops you and heads back to the bedroom.

"What? Shouldn’t I say that you-"

"MC" he threatens.

"Are you jealous?" it bursts out of you and groaning Jake drops his head in the neck, "You really need to say this, don’t you?"

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

After you keep teasing Jake with it, you decided to stop for today. You two ordered a pizza and a drink, because you don’t have much here, except for the beer Hannah bought.

You had the TV running quietly but didn’t pay attention to it. Jake asked you what your wishes and hopes are in for your new life, and you talked about the time with the Man Without a Face. Until now, you’ve only talked to him about it. Just a little bit with Hannah but somehow you’re still not ready to deal with all this. The occasional jokes about it will help you soothe your thoughts a little.

During your conversation, you accidentally fell asleep. The hacker didn’t know what to do, he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want to leave without saying anything. After watching you for 20 minutes and thinking about your relationship, he felt weird just looking at you while you're sleeping. So he decided to leave.

However, you seem to have noticed this immediately because the moment he opens the door, your eyes open.

"Wait" you stop him and he looks at you frightened, "If you leave now while I sleep, then I feel like I was a one night stand," you joke and and he grins.

"You’re much more than that," he replies quietly. You raising your upper body, and a little shy, stroking the fluffy pillow on your couch.

"Can you.. can you stay, Jake?" Your voice is quiet, tired and a little nervous, "I feel uncomfortable being here alone the first night," you admit. You had this feeling the first time while you built up the bed. Even though the Man without a face is in prison and you’re safe, you still have this unpleasant ulterior motive.

He seems to think about, but without you telling him, he understands what you’re worried about.

"All right" he sighs and closes the door again.

"You can sleep in the bed, I’ll take the couch," you say and get up to get a blanket and a pillow.

"No, the other way around. You should sleep in your bed, your day was exhausting and you need to rest"

Before this discussion can be extended, you decide to make a short process, "Okay, you have two options now. Either you sleep with me in bed, or we both sleep on the couch. 'Cause I’m not gonna ask you to stay here for me, and then let you sleep there!"

The hacker stops briefly, turns slightly red but then grins, "I don’t have a chance anyway, do I?" he asks.

You shake your head, "Not without a war"

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

Luckily, you are in possession of a much too large sweatpants which fits him only narrowly, but fits.

The room is dark and it is completely quiet in the whole apartment. You try to be inconspicuous, and slide a bit towards him. You know he’s not asleep yet, and when he doesn’t try to stop you, you get a whole lot closer.

You hear Jake lifting the blanket, the invitation to come to him entirely.You don’t take your time but slide so close that you can put your head on his chest and he puts an arm around you. Immediately its beautiful smell envelops you and your pulse accelerates many times. Even his heart you hear racing what makes you smile.

"Do you know how many times I dreamed about it?" he whispers into the darkness and your heart makes a leap, "No, but if it was only half as often as I did, then I can imagine it," you answer and a quiet laugh vibrates in his chest.

"Good night, MC, see you tomorrow"

"Good night, Jake," you whisper, and then you feel his lips flapping softly over your forehead, just a touch, like a breeze. But for you, it means the world.

Welcome new life, you mean well with me.

❤️🎭🌹

Masterlist

[4stars-uswnt]

My Muse, My Valentine [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Not sure if you’re accepting any request but can you write a cp x photographer gf where her gf surprised her at man u, like her gf secretly transfer there to be with cp. Thanks

A/N: please ignore some of the inconsistencies this story has with reality :) but anyways... hope you enjoy and have a happy Valentine’s Day (tomorrow) and remember it’s a day about LOVE, whether that be romantic, platonic, familial, or self ❤️

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whine, as you watch your girlfriend pack her suitcase.

“I know, babe. I’m gonna miss you too, so much.” Christen leans down to quickly peck your lips, before continuing to fold her clothes.

You and Christen had been dating for almost three years now, having met after you’d photographed one of the USWNT’s matches. You instantly felt an attraction to the curly-haired forward, your camera always drifting towards her wherever she was on the pitch.

After you’d posted a couple of your photos on your Instagram, which Christen made a point to like and repost, you gathered up the courage to approach her after a game, and thus began your relationship.

With yours and Christen’s busy schedules, it was sometimes hard to find time for each other, but you made it work, sharing an apartment in Portland during the offseason and flying out for matches when you could. But being a sports photographer did have its benefits, as your work often led you to spending more time with your girlfriend and admiring her speed down the field and score goals.

But now, with the pandemic, as the NWSL was struggling to field games,  you found yourself with little work. Christen herself was not quite satisfied with the league’s plan for the season, so when Tobin proposed the idea of going to the WSL, she desperately wanted to, yearning to get back on the pitch.

At first, when Christen approached you with the subject, you immediately opposed, not wanting to be so far from your girlfriend for such a long amount of time. Additionally, with COVID, it would be nearly, if not completely, impossible for you to visit. But after a blowout fight and discussing it further, you realized that this is what would be best for Christen and her career.

“Do you have to go?” You pout, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed.

“You know I do, (Y/N/N).” Christen playfully rolls her eyes.

“Humph.”

“Babe, come on, don’t make me feel worse about leaving you.”

“Then don’t,” you quip, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, pulling her down on the bed with you.

“Babe!” Christen squeals, as you blow raspberries into her skin.

You lift your head from the crook of her neck, your eyes locking with hers. “I know that you have to go,” you admit seriously. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I know that this is what’s best for your career.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she says earnestly, giving you a small smile. “We’ll text and FaceTime everyday.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You cup her face and bring her in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of her soft lips on yours. “I also know that you’re gonna kill it over there in Manchester. The WSL isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

Christen ducks her bashfully, a small blush arising on her cheeks. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I love you, too.”

“Good.” She gives you a quick peck, as she gets up from the bed. “Now, either quit bothering me or help me. My flight is early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—————

It had been a little over five months since you’d dropped Christen off at the airport and she left for Manchester. Despite the constant texting and the nightly FaceTime calls, you couldn’t help but ache for your girlfriend. Without her, the apartment was lonelier and the bed felt bigger.

It had helped that your work had started back up, first with some freelance work and then with the NWSL fall series starting, which gave you something to do and kept you fairly busy.

Currently, you were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee, as you edited some photos for the Thorns. Just as you were saving your work and closing Lightroom, about to shut your computer, a ping alerts a new email in your inbox.

Switching tabs, you notice the message is from an unfamiliar address, so you presume it’s a new client. You click and open it, your eyes widening, as you scan the email:

Ms. (Y/L/N),

I noticed your professional portfolio through many referrals, particularly your work form the World Cup. I am writing on behalf of the BBC News Media Centre, and we’re looking for an excellent sports photographer to join the team, specifically to cover the FA Women’s Super League and the Premier League.

Your experience is outstanding, adn your work speaks for itself. I think you’d be a great fit for this role, and I’d love to tell you more about it and hear more from you.

Would you like to set up a phone or Zoom call soon? If so, let me know when you’re available.

Best,

Charles Smith

Director of Media Relations at BBC Sport

You quickly reread the email, and then reread it again, just to make sure you’re not dreaming. This was too good to be true. But you shake yourself out of your stupor and quickly type out a response to set up a phone call as soon as possible.

After hitting send, you shut your computer with excitement and throw your hands up in the air.

“Yes!” You exclaim into the empty apartment, as you throw your fist in the air and jump off the barstool.

Knowing you needed to distract yourself, otherwise you’d just be staring at your computer, eagerly awaiting the response, you decided to go on a run.

Jogging through the city, you think of your girlfriend and your potential reunion if this job offer worked out. You decided that if you did in fact take this position, you’d surprise Christen at one of her matches, hopefully one that you’d be able to photograph.

As soon as you arrive back in your apartment, you make a beeline for your laptop. You anxiously open your inbox and beam when you see Charles had replied to set up a Zoom call at 9:30 tomorrow morning. You excitedly type out pleasantries, telling him you’re looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were in an increasingly good mood. So later that evening, when Christen called you for your routine FaceTime, she could tell something was up.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?”

“Can I not be happy to talk to my girlfriend?” You tease, a huge grin plastered onto your face.

“You can,” Christen trails off, not quite believing you. “But you have the weird giddy look you get when something’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just had a good day,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Okay,” the forward accepts, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Anyways, you know She Believes is in a couple weeks, are you working the tournament?”

“Yup,” you nod and make a mental note to mention that to Charles tomorrow.

The two of you continue updating each other, chatting about topics ranging from what you had for breakfast that day to re-inc’s upcoming drop.

“Alright,” Christen yawns. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

You check your phone and see it’s 5:37 pm, meaning it’s almost midnight in Manchester.

“Okay,” your eyes softening at the sight of your sleepy girlfriend. “Good night, Chris. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. G’night.”

After ending the call and shutting your laptop, you head into the kitchen to make some dinner for yourself, getting on with your evening.

—————

The next morning, you anxiously await for Charles to begin the Zoom call, nervously bouncing your knee and biting your lip.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Charles greets, his face appearing on your screen.

“Good morning. Or rather good afternoon?” You correct with a light chuckle, to which he reciprocates.

“Well, as you know from my email, we are looking for a photographer to join our team, and from many referrals, you seem to be a very good candidate,

“So, I was thinking maybe we could look at your portfolio really quickly and then hash out the logistics to see if this is something that could work out.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, as you pull up some of your best pictures and share your screen.

The two of you look through your photos, many from the 2019 World Cup, some of the Olympics, and a few from random NWSL games.

“Well, (Y/N), your work is quite impressive. If you’re ready, and you’re seriously interested in this position, we can talk specifics, scheduling, all that good stuff,” Charles offers.

“I’m definitely interested, but can I just preface by saying that my girlfriend is a major part of this decision, so depending on what she wants to do at the end of the season will impact my contract.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting your candor. “Your girlfriend plays in the WSL?”

“Yeah, well, technically only for this season. Her contract is up in May,” you explain.  

“(Y/N), to be completely frank, we’re looking to hire because a couple of our photographers had some personal issues due to COVID and had to leave mid-season,” Charles reveals. “So if it turns out that your girlfriend wants to go back to the NWSL, then we can work that out. And if she wants to stay, and you end up liking it here and you fit in well, we can also work that out. We’re pretty flexible.”

You sigh in relief, giving him a small smile. “Wow, thank you so much. So what would my contract look like?”

“Well, we can sign you to three month contract with the option for extension,” he offers, as you nod along enthusiastically.

“That sounds great,” you exclaim, beaming. “And just to let you know, I’ve already signed on to work the She Believes tournament from the 18th to the 21st.”

“That actually aligns with the WSL’s international break, and there are a couple Premier League matches that weekend, but I think we can manage, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You guys are too kind and so flexible. I really appreciate it so much,” you say earnestly.

“It’s really just us being desperate for a good photographer,” Charles jokes.

“Either way, I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“We’re excited for you to join our team,” he reciprocates. “So, in terms of when you’ll begin, I honestly would like you to come over as soon as possible so that you can get settled and get acclimated.”

“I am honestly ready to start whenever you’ll have me.”

“How about next week? The Manchester Derby is on Friday, and honestly, given your portfolio, I’d love you to photograph that match,” the British man admits.

“That’s perfect!” You were in complete awe of how perfectly everything was working out. Photographing a Man United match as your first job meant you could surprise Christen, maybe as an early Valentine’s gift.

“Great,” Charles smiles.

The two of you discuss and finalize your contract and the logistics of you starting the job. Once everything’s settled and you each have the information you need, you wrap up the call.

“Well, thank you so much, Charles, for this offer, and I can’t wait to see you next Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait to work with you and meet you. See you next week. Cheers.”

After ending the Zoom call, you begin to make a COVID test appointment, book your flight, and arrange your hotel room for the few days that Christen doesn’t know you’re there, preparing yourself for moving across the world.

—————

After landing in London, getting settled into your hotel, and meeting with the BBC team and the other photographers, you were now on your way to the Manchester Derby.

In the back of the black cab, you pull out your phone to text a good luck text to Christen.

It was difficult to keep your surprise a secret, especially when you were actually in England, because it was much more difficult to FaceTime without her noticing your change in setting. You had to make up the excuse that you were swarmed with editing and preparing for the upcoming Thorns trainings.

As you pull up to the Academy Stadium, you hear your phone ding.

Chris ❤️

Thanks babe. Miss and love you 😘

You quickly type out a response, before heading into the building.

(Y/N/N) 💗

Love you too. I miss u too but go kick butt.

The match was exhilarating. Not only were you a sports photographer, but you were also a huge fan of the game, enjoying a good game when you see one.

You watched in awe, the level and style of play significantly different from than NWSL. While snapping hundreds of photos of both teams, your camera would always somehow land back on your girlfriend.

Your heart ached for the curly-haired forward, as you missed her dearly. Until you saw her back on the pitch, you hadn’t really realized that you missed watching her play the game that she’d mastered, her movements around the pitch and on the ball effortless and elegant.

As the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the half, you scroll through some of the photos you’d taken, deleting some of the blurry and unfocussed ones.

A smile immediately forms on your face when you see a picture of Christen during warmups with a huge grin on her face. You spend all of halftime editing said photo and putting together an Instagram post for your girlfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, the teams take the pitch and you go back to doing your job. Throughout the second half, you could tell that Christen was getting increasingly frustrated, her team getting down 3-0 with only about five minutes left.

You watch as the players high five and hug each other, and you want nothing more than to run onto the field to be with your girlfriend, but you had a plan to stick to.

As the team goes back into the locker room, you pull out your phone to post a photo on Instagram and then you shoot a quick text to Tobin:

(Y/N)🤓:

toby go check out my ig post :))

Back in the Man United locker room, after Casey went through her post match speech, Tobin checks her phone and sees a text from you. The injured forward playfully rolls her eyes at your message but follows your directions.

Upon opening the social media app, Tobin raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. She glances across the room to see if her best friend had seen your post, but Christen was minding her own business, changing into sweats after her shower.

“Chris!” The older forward calls over to the other woman. “Have you seen your girlfriend’s Instagram post?”

Christen furrows her brows in confusion. “What? No, what is it?”

Tobin waves her friend over and shows her the post:

Liked by mrapinoe, ashlynharris24, and 638,231 others

yourusername: My muse, my valentine.

“As I sat and looked at her

and the rolling hills she sat upon

I thought,

what amazing luck I have

that the world had created

such beautiful things

and given me the eyes to see them.”

- atticus

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

mrapinoe: Stunning pictures, (Y/N). Love you guys 💖

alikrieger: These photos are 🔥🔥🔥🔥

alexmorgan13: love this 😍😍

cdunn19: Beautiful!

glennondoyle: Love love love love this!!

ashlynharris24: Holy shit! Are you in Manchester????

↳lavellerose: Was this today??

↳sammymewyy: Oh my gosh it was!

↳kellyohara: Valentine’s Day surprise for Pressy?? 👀

Christen zooms in on the photo in the center, her eyes widening when she realizes that it is from today’s match.

“How did she get that picture?”

Tobin mentally slaps her forehead at her friend’s denseness. “Knowing (Y/N), she probably took it.”

“But that’s impossible. She’s in the States,” Christen states and shakes her head, dumbfounded.

“Actually,” you speak up, stepping into the locker room, deciding to make your presence known. “I’m right here.”

“(Y/N)?” Your girlfriend looks up at you, her mind in a state of shock.

“Hey, love,” you greet shyly.

Once her mind caught up with reality, Christen runs and jumps into your body, kissing you passionately but briefly and wrapping you into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe your here,” she whispers into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe, so much.”

Unwrapping herself from the hug, Christen stares at you in awe. “What… how are you here?”

“We can talk about that later,” you give her another quick kiss. “But right now, I just wanna spend time with you. Maybe we can grab some dinner? You can show me around Manchester, considering I’m gonna be spending a lot of time here.”

Your girlfriend looks at you puzzled, but you just give her a wink with a small smirk on your face.

“Well, c’mon lets get out of here.”

—————

Back at Christen’s apartment, the two of you sit down for a nice and casual, but romantic, dinner you’d prepared along with a bottle of red wine.

After catching up, the forward finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So how are you here? What’s going on, (Y/N/N)? You said earlier that you’d be spending a lot of time in Manchester, what does that mean? I’m so confused. Not that I’m grateful that you’re here right now and that I get to see you, but I thought you were working She Believes, and—“

“Chris,” you cut off your girlfriend’s endearing rambling. “Babe, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” she blushes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I got a job with BBC Sport till the end of the season,” you answer her parade of questions.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nod, while taking a sip of your water. “It means I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Not having the adequate words to express her joy and excitement, Christen gets up from her chair, walks over to sit in your lap, and connects you lips for a searing kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathes, rubbing her nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you quickly peck her lips while rubbing circles on her hip. “But as much as I love you and all this romance, we gotta get going soon.”

Your girlfriend tilts her head in confusion.

“Do the words ‘She Believes’ ring a bell?” You tease. “If I remember correctly, our flight leaves in a couple hours.”

“You’re coming with me?” Christen asks, her brain trying to wrap around the fact that her girlfriend, who she hadn’t seen in almost five months, would now be living with her in England and flying back to the States with her for the next week.

“Of course, Chris,” you give her a cheeky smile, along with a kiss to her nose, as you quote a book Becky had convinced the whole team to read. “You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere. You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

And I Will Hold Onto You

Summary: They’ve never been apart for holidays since they started dating. That was until Spencer Reid found himself behind bars for a crime he’d never think of committing. Growing and healing, Spencer realizes that it’s not the holidays that matter, it’s the person. Because with that special person, who’s laugh he can recognize anywhere, even cleaning up the empty bottle the next morning is magical.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note/Warnings: Body Image Issues (Male) nothing too descriptive, prison arc is mentioned/is central issue; loosely based of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

Also this is technically a part 2 to Drag Me Head First but it doesn’t have to be read that way.

And I Will Hold Onto You

There’s something special in the way that the first midnight of the new year feels. All that hopefulness and excitement packed into a 10 second countdown. The energy in the room slowly bubbles up, culminating as the ball drops. It fizzles out as loved ones share chaste kisses and friends hug. But all that remains are last year’s bottles and this year’s dreams. Maybe it’s something that Spencer always took for granted.

The cold midnight air is jarring, compared to his warm and cozy house. Spencer walks quickly, taking out the trash, filled with bottles of beer and wine. The snow crunches under his shoes and Spencer can see his breath in the air as he huffs to toss the bag in the black trash bin. Spencer, despite the way the cold air nips his nose, stops in his tracks and gazes up at the stars. It’s unfortunate living where he does, you can never really see all the stars. Maybe Y/N would like to take a trip in their cabin the next time he can get off? He could show her all the stars. But Spencer doesn’t need to go to the middle of the woods to see the stars; he can simply look into Y/N’s eyes and see all the magic the universe has to offer.

Spencer lets himself back into his house, just as Garcia and Derek are putting their shoes and coats on to leave. Y/N comes out of the kitchen carrying two trays of leftover food for their friends to take home.

“Penny, please kiss those sweet babies for me,” Y/N says, handing Luke the trays of food. She leans over to kiss Penelope on her cheek.

“They can only sweet when they are sleeping,” Penelope says, rolling her eyes and putting her coat on. It’s more of a cape in a spectacular plum purple color with cream colored faux fur trim.

“Don’t act so surprised, mi amor, look who their mother is,” Luke says, cheekily. He hugs Spencer and Y/N before grabbing Garcia’s hand with his empty one.

“Happy New Year!” Garcia and Luke call as they leave, shutting the door behind them. Spencer locks the door and heads back to the kitchen to help Y/N clean up. The plates sit in the sink piled high, with tall champagne glasses resting next to them on the counter. Glitter scatters on the floor, confetti in the shapes of “1s” and “6” lay littered on the tiles, remnants of the festivities just moments before.

Y/N stands over the sink, her hand rests on the ledge. She turns on the water and starts washing the dishes. Spencer walks up quietly behind her, nuzzling his hand into the corner of her ear and shoulder. He hums, the vibrations echoing into Y/N’s neck, causing her to giggle. He joins his hands together around Y/N’s waist, holding her tight.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Spencer whispers, his voice hardly audible above the stream of water. Even though Spencer can’t see Y/N, he can feel the way her cheeks grow against the side of his head. She’s smiling.

“It is a very happy, new year,” Y/N says, her voice strong, yet Spencer can tell it’s hard for her to keep it together. It’s not their first new year, far from it, it’s their 13th. But this time, it feels different to hold her in his arms and kiss her as the clock strikes 12.

They wash the dishes in silence, a comforting silence where certain things don’t need to be said. Like a well oiled machine, Y/N washes, Spencer dries. The sudsy dish soap smells like home and Y/N’s quiet hums sound like peace. Spencer really forgot how much he could love even the most mundane of tasks when Y/N stands next to him.

“Come on, Y/N we can do this tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed,” Spencer says, tugging on Y/N’s long sleeve of her thermal shirt.

“Hmm, I can’t argue against your cuddles, sweetheart,” Y/N murmurs tiredly, easily pushing the thoughts of clean up to the next morning. Her hand joins his, like a key finding it’s matching lock. They are cold from the water, but Spencer doesn’t really mind.

A tangle of limbs and hands, they make their way up the stairs to their shared bedroom. They pass the wall filled with pictures of their smiling faces or candid countenances in mismatching frames hung against the wall. It’s just a testament to how long they’ve been together, going back to their first date right before Y/N’s college graduation and Spencer’s fifth, leading up to their most recent Halloween. Each photo stuck in time, frozen with utter happiness and unadulterated joy. But there’s a gap in the collection, a gap that Spencer rather not talk about. A gap where, for the first time since they met, Spencer and Y/N were separated. Sitting in jail, all Spencer could think of was the personal mental prison that Y/N must have confined herself too.

They don’t like talking about the gap, but he knows they have too. Spencer knows that Y/N is proud of him, she tells him that everyday. Proud of him for keeping up with therapy, proud of him for letting go of the little things that he can’t control, proud of him for trusting her with his secrets and fears. It’s the strangest thing, to have someone be proud of you for just living.

“We’re going to need a bigger wall,” Spencer says, hoping that his attempt at referencing pop culture would land. Y/N stops to turn to Spencer, who in the moonlight that drips in from the window, looks much younger than he really is.

“Did you just make a pop culture reference that’s not from, like, 300 years ago?” Y/N says, her brow upturned in a quizzical stare.

“Come on, Y/N, you love when I recite all Sir Walter Raleigh to you,” Spencer says, reaching up to tickle Y/N sides, causing her to giggle and run up the rest of the stairs.

“Spencer! You know that I’m too ticklish,” Y/N says in between short laughs and gasps for air. She plops down on the bed, dragging Spencer down with her. He lays his head down on her chest and like a Rube Goldberg machine, her fingers come up and tangle themselves in his hair.

“Maybe our New Year’s Resolution should be to get some more exercise, Spence. Your heart is beating faster than mine and that run from the steps to our room is like a good 10 feet,” Y/N jokes as she continues scratching Spencer’s scalp lulling him into a peaceful, sleepy state.

“Two things, baby, one, we don’t exercise and two, that’s not why my heart is beating so fast, I think it has something to do with the beautiful girl laying so close to me,” Spencer murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, you certainly know how to charm a girl, even like 13 years later,”

“Actually it’s, 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 17 hours, 58 minutes and 31 seconds,” Spencer says with a quick glance at his watch.

“And I’ve loved every single minute of it,” Y/N says, reaching up to sneak a pillow under Spencer’s head. She moves to get out of bed, much to Spencer’s displeasure.

“No, no, Y/N you’re so warm and I’m freezing,” Spencer whines, shifting so he can look at his wife, who has shrugged off her thermal shirt and jeans.

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N chides. Spencer, almost bashful at her teasing, attempts to hide his blush with the pillow that rests under his head.

“I only turn the heat all the way down at night so we’re forced to cuddle for body heat,” Spencer says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“So you say,” Y/N tells Spencer, sitting down back on the bed. She pulls on Spencer’s legs, dragging him down the bed.

“Come on lazy boy, get your PJs on,” Y/N orders. Spencer, who under Penelope’s less than pure supervision, had enough shots to make up for all the college parties that he missed. There’s happy drunks, forgetful drunks, and then there're sleepy drunks.

Spencer stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. The low, yellow lamp light casts shadows on his naked torso. He’s filled out a little bit since they’ve started dating, especially within the last few months of Spencer’s healing. Y/N knew that it’s a sore spot for him, but there’s something about the way that Spencer’s dress pants sit tightly against his thighs or the way his shirt clings to his stomach that just makes him look so much older. Both of them, including their bodies, have changed so much since 13 years ago. Or 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 18 hours, 5 minutes and 12 seconds ago. They’ve grown up together, and now Y/N can’t wait to grow old together.

But the look in his eyes is not pride over his growth or confidence over his physique. It’s confusion. Spencer stares at himself like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. Y/N knows he must hate that; Spencer hates things that he can’t find an answer to. Y/N walks up behind him, lacing her finger together so her arms clasp against his waist. For a moment, Spencer flinches. Even her gentlest touches and softest kisses can’t wash away the fear of much harsher contact. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Y/N can feel that Spencer’s not looking at her. After all these years, she can still see the terrified young man who brazenly kissed her in her car in the middle of a rainstorm. After all these years, Spencer is still the only man she ever loved.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly. His name off her lips is more tender than any pet name in existence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m being immature, it’s just,” Spencer closes his eyes, trying to focus himself in the present. It’s something that his therapist suggested. In moments of distress, find your anchor. Luckily for Spencer, his anchor has been his anchor for quite awhile.

“You can tell, I’m not going to judge you,” Y/N says, her lips leaving small kisses on his exposed shoulders.

“It’s just I thought this whole nightmare of prison was behind me. Therapy has been helping, I’m better on cases and I love teaching,” Spencer says, the pain in his voice leaking out.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, instead she guides Spencer to sit on the edge of their bed. She rubs her hand down his back, tracing his spine and around the freckles that collect on his right shoulder.

“I thought that the emotional healing would be the hardest part, I mean it is, but physically, I don’t recognize myself. I can imagine you don’t either,” Spencer says, he turns to lay on the bed, bringing his feet up to his chest in a textbook self-protective position.

“Spence, your body is gonna change, baby. God, mine has changed so much since we met,” Spencer gives Y/N a confused look, like he’s not thoroughly convinced by her explanation.

“It has Spencer. We’re not 22 years old anymore, we’re going to be like 35 in a couple of months. But you know, this is something we can work on together, I’ve gone my whole life not loving the skin I’m in. But being with you makes it easier, Spence.” Y/N says, running her fingers across the bridge of Spencer’s nose and down to his lips, that always a ridiculously gorgeous shade of pink. Spencer doesn’t say much, he’s still trapped deep inside his mind.

“I don’t know how you put up with me and all my antics, Y/N”

“You do my taxes every year,” Y/N jokes, making an effort to kiss every freckle and dipple on the expanse of Spencer’s back.

Spencer turns in the bed so he’s facing Y/N, he cups her face all the way from her ear to her jaw. It’s an intimate gesture that somehow is more loving and vulnerable than saying “I love you,”

“You know you make me fearless, Y/N,” Spencer tells her, not blinking because he doesn’t want to miss out on any more time looking into her eyes.

“You say that everyday Spencer Reid,” Y/N responds, letting herself melt into the touch. She grabs onto his wrist, physically telling him to not let go.

“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Spencer says, solemnly.

“It’s not making it up if it’s the rest of our life, Spencer. Besides, there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Day cleaning up all those bottles with,”

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