#the group chat would land them in a mental hospital

[interstellar-productions]

I’m not done yet (please someone save me from this hell of my own creation) and so i bring you Jean, Jeremy and Aaron friendship truths. ( absolute bullshit i pulled out of my ass because of how i internalize these 3 fictional men).

In my head it all makes sense. THEIR PERFECT (their broken arguably beyond repair). Jean is stepping outside for the first time, not mafia parents and no nest, he’s never been able to be independent and thus lacks a sense of self, because he was always told exactly what to be. Jean is learned helplessness. The cage is open but he’s so used to being beat that he doesn’t really try to move, because you can’t outrun the enviable. Jeremy is two different people sharing the same skin, who is with the Trojans and who he is when he’s with his parents. There are expectations that come with both. He knows this. Jeremy has built his life around these two extremes and doesn’t really have a middle ground. which one is the real him? Does he even know? Aaron is constantly moving. He’s a busy body, homework, class, study, practice, gym. Aaron packs his days full of so many things that he doesn’t need to think about who he is outside of the things that make him painfully normal( please don’t look at him, don’t notice him).

Jean is acceptance, he knows it’s coming and his trying to minimize the damage. Jeremy is fight or flight, he’s loud and bubbly and bigger then life, why would something be wrong for someone whose that happy. Aaron is survival, he’s checklists and to do’s.

Jean: if your going to hit me do it

Jeremy: you can’t hit me if you can’t catch me

Aaron: you can’t hit me if you don’t notice me

Their the 3 amigos of hurt and suffering i fear and that’s why they’d be perfect friends.

Aaron is the quiet and calm to Jeremy’s raging storm and the silent darkness for jean. Aaron is secrecy in its purest form.

Jean is the reality check that Jeremy and Aaron would both benefit from (when their too trapped in their own heads to think clearly), jean is steady in a twisted sort of way. Jean is steady in a I’ve accepted death and no longer fear it sort of way.

Jeremy would be the sunshine, but not in the normal way that Jeremy brings sunshine. Jeremy would be the “ a bad today means a better tomorrow” sort of sunshine. That quiet sort of i know the rain just as well as you do but i also know well make it out of this too.

Jean would be the reminder that all things are temporary and thats not something we need to fear, just accept. Control what you can and accept what you can’t.

Aaron is white knuckled grips, were all making it out of here because we have too, because there is no other option, i wont let there be another option.

Jeremy is the reminder that sometimes laying down is ok, let yourself have nice things just because.

These 3 together could heal each other. (They could also make each other spiral)

[hyunjinsjeans]

He knows (Han ver.)

Felix ver.| Seungmin ver. | I.N ver.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: after an unfortunate event you decide to tell Jisung that you are ready to give it another go.

Type: Fluff 🧸, angst ❤️‍🩹, female reader 💃, SFW 👍

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, description of medical emergencies and health issues, mentions of mental health issues. Uhm there is mentions of dogs being horny(?)

Word count: 3111 words (your honor, I plead oopsie daisy!)

AN: This one is a little heavier, please don’t read if you are sensitive towards the topics described in the warnings. Something about my favorite soft boy Han made my brain go “pain” and here we are, BUT I promise it gets really cute and comforting in the end. Again, I couldn’t stop writing 😭

You cleaned up the kitchen after finishing eating dinner and drank a tall glass of water. You rubbed your stomach and looked around the house. Jisung was going to be home in a few hours, probably tired from his trip to Paris. 

He had been gone for only a couple of days, not even an entire week. 

You knew this was hard on both of you, but felt like maybe he was making it harder than it had to be. It had been over a year already… he should relax a little now. But he could not, he still felt guilty every time he walked out the door with a suitcase in his hand.

With a sigh, you decided to head to bed. His flight would land almost at midnight and then Ji would have a couple days off. He was most likely going to come home and slide into bed beside you, quietly attempting to cuddle you without waking you. It always failed because you missed him too much to not notice his warmth and his gentle touch when he wrapped his arm around you and kissed the back of your shoulder. 

It all happened the year before. The boys were promoting a single and had been invited to a fashion show in New York, their schedule was crazy, they were away for a little over a month - which was odd, since they were not touring or playing shows. 

You and the other girls, the significant others, had a group chat, “SORacha”, was the name given by the boys. Everyone was a little on edge with how the American media was treating the boys, especially the disrespectful and downright racist paparazzi who seemed to start following them around everywhere. For you the worst part was coming home to a sad looking Bbama, both of you obviously missed Jisung.

You were only 8 days away from seeing Han again, things had been normal around the house. You went to work and then came back home to walk Bbama, having dinner with the fluffy dog eating behind you from their dish on the floor. Some days you went out for drinks with your friends, most of all you kept in touch with the other girls. It was like a support group while your boyfriends and husbands were away. You would help each other in the most mundane things, and you would also reach out to each other to keep everyone's spirits up.

That night you had gone out for a drink with your coworkers, but you were not drinking much since you needed to get home to read some materials for your Japanese class. Jisung had insisted it was fun learning a new language as an adult and you signed up for the course only to find that it was more demanding than you anticipated. Regardless, you were a diligent student so you prioritized your study time over having that second bottle of soju.  

It did not change much, by the end of the night you found yourself blinking away tears in confusion as you were blinded by the bright lights shining atop of you inside the ambulance. 

Your emergency contact, LeeKnow!Reader arrived at the hospital in her checkered pj’s. You were already in the ER by then and she was not allowed to see you until after the doctors were able to get you stable. Everything happened too fast, two of your drunk co-workers (sobered up by the scare and adrenaline) explained to LeeKnow!Reader what had happened. You did nothing wrong, you said your goodbyes and went to cross the road during a red light, following the zebra lines on the pavement but a car drove past disregarding the stop light. They hit you so fast you were pushed into the air a few meters to everyone’s shock. Thankfully, you landed against another car’s hood. Although it broke a couple of ribs, it meant you did not hit your head on the pavement. 

You required surgery for the internal bleeding and the doctors were clear you would be in the hospital for at least a few days to make sure you would be okay since you did get a neck and back injury. 

LeeKnow!Reader did not even ask you, she signed the papers and arranged for you to have the emergency surgery, without questions she picked up the phone to immediately call your husband, and then your mother. She knew you were not going to want to interrupt Han in whatever he was doing but this was serious. So she called him. 

When you woke up in a hospital room after the surgery, he was there with your mom and your sister sitting next to him. 

You felt awful. Not only physically but also mentally. All he ever asked you to do when he left home was to take care of yourself (and his fur baby). And you managed to get yourself ran over by a drunk driver. 

Recovering was not easy, you had a cast around your middle and on your left leg. You had to wear a neck brace for a couple of months and even after you dealt with a lot of pain from the simplest things like sitting or laying down for too long. 

Jisung was worried, to an extreme extent. He felt guilty he was not there with you when it happened. He liked to think that he would have picked you up and that he could have avoided you needing to cross the road. It did not help that you became so weak so quickly. He knew you to be independent and strong but during your recovery you were unable to walk the stairs of your two story home. You could not go out to walk with him and take Bbama to the dog park. You could no longer turn to the gym for an outlet for your anxiety, and you felt useless. 

You were different. It was obvious to your friends and to your husband. He could tell, he was not stupid and he was also not blind. He saw you shut him out, you were shutting everyone out in fact. You stopped singing around the house because you were not doing chores. Instead you could only sit and read or knit in absolute silence. You were no longer looking for playlists to have as background noise while you went outside to take care of your garden - hell, the garden was a mess you did not even touch anymore. You slept so much too, sneaking naps here and there. You avoided phone calls and texts too. And you began losing weight fast, no longer having an interest in food. Jisung had to knock some sense into you, get you off of autopilot. You could not help it when he was face to face with you, pointing out that you were in pain and it was easy to see. He felt guilty you had been hurt in his absence and he was feeling guilty maybe he was doing something wrong now that he was home. Han demanded to know if it was him and his work or both. He felt like somehow he had let you down but he wanted to make it better. 

It was not him, you were depressed from the feeling of confinement within your own body. Like you had a broken thing that did not work but you had to still push it around as if it did, only to be frustrated when even breathing was painful. You had cried to him, and he held you with the gentleness no one but him knew to have with you. What made things worse in your head was the idea that this accident had indefinitely put a pause on your lives… just when you and Han decided it was a good time to start your family. Of course you were not in shape to have a baby, this broke your heart as it added up with all the other “can’t”s that began appearing in your life since coming home from the hospital.

And while you were better today, well over a year after the accident, you still saw the hints of guilt in your husband’s eyes every time he left home for a trip somewhere far away. If he could, he would bring you along, but you were still waiting for your citizenship and couldn’t leave the country until your paperwork was processed… it would be at least another 6 months.

You took your necklace and earrings off and left them near your vanity, you twisted your wedding ring in your finger and left it there. At night, you liked to keep it on as a reminder that your husband would always be there for you even if he wasn’t in bed with you.

Jisung got in the car at almost 1:00 am, he was tired and a little jet lagged. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of his own bed, next to his favorite girl. 

He wondered how your day had been, since you only went back to work a couple months ago. He knew you were excited about it, about getting your life back. Han was also excited about seeing you shake the gloomy attitude, and it began the second you got your casts off and started your physical therapy. Jisung loved how determined you looked, a small girl fighting a 2lb weight in each hand. But he was so proud to see you face recovery with courage. 

As of late, you were able to do everything you used to although some days you had to take it easy thanks to your back injury that was still healing. 

Jisung entered the home and was met with silence. Not even Bbama made a sound, he knew his dog must have been sleeping with you upstairs. Upon entering your shared bedroom he could see he was correct, as you slept with a peaceful expression and an arm wrapped around the fluffy white dog. 

You heard the sound of light footsteps on the floor and the sheets moved behind you. Jisung’s scent of flowers and fresh rain reached your senses and the familiar weight of his arm around your waist confirmed his presence to you. A deep sigh left your body, all muscles in your body able to relax in his company as if he was a warm bath to drown all your worries in. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Y/N” he whispered against the exposed skin of your shoulder before laying a soft kiss there. “You should sleep.”

“I missed you,” you confessed with your hand leaving your little dog to hold onto your husband’s hand. “You should sleep too.”

“Mmm,” he nuzzled against your neck, “I’m sure I missed you more.” He babbled a little, exhaustion taking the best of him. 

You did not reply to that, already swallowed by sleep in his comforting embrace. 

***

“Oh my God…” Jisung ran to his small dog, pulling him away from the other small dog. “Where are your manners? How are you not embarrassed?” He talked to his own dog and you laughed at it from the bench. 

“Look at this,” Jisung’s ear were bright red as the other dog’s owner approached, “it’s not a female! Put that away!” He urged his dog to calm down. 

You laughed harder as your husband apologized for Bbama’s behavior. He had been humping other dogs a lot lately, you thought it was fair to either let him have a girlfriend or neuter him. Jisung was unsure of what to do, the scene at the dog park might be the wake up call he needed. 

You covered your mouth with your hand and fake-coughed to hide your laughter as Jisung walked back with the small dog on the leash again.

“Why is he so horny?” He whisper-yelled. 

This only fueled your amusement and you giggled. “He wants to get some, let the poor guy have sex!”

“I know he humps the duck plushie regularly, but this is a lot…” Jisung complained, “and why is he humping other male dogs?” 

You looked down at the innocent looking little white ball of fur and offered your husband a kind smile. “Love is love, Ji!” 

Jisung rolled his eyes but he put his hands up in defense, “not that I don’t respect that… but seriously, what’s up with him?” 

You shrugged, looking away you saw a couple with their big labrador and a little boy. The boy held the dog’s leash and the dog seemed to know it was better to pretend the boy was guiding him. 

“Maybe he knows I want a baby…” you said before registering that the words in your mind had left your mouth, “wait!” You snapped your head back in Jisung’s direction.

You felt all color drain from your face and your blood rushed to your feet. Jisung’s eyes were opened wide and round like plates, his lips pursed together made his cheeks look even larger and more comical. 

“You want a baby?” He blurted out with incredulity. 

To him it was the single craziest thing you had said ever. Why would you want a baby? You were technically recovered from the accident but you still lived with some reminders of it. He still lived with reminders of it too. And a baby? You carrying a baby? No. He felt his mouth go dry. It was not that he did not want you to have a baby. He would be thrilled to have someone as amazing as you be the mother of his kids; but he was not sure you were in good enough condition to do it. He would be scared to see you as affected as you had been after the accident.

“Well, I said it out loud, didn’t I?” You laughed nervously. 

Han swallowed and stared, paying little mind to Bbama pulling on his leash to smell some weeds growing around a bush.

“Now? Do you want it now?”

You sought his hand and intertwined your fingers together. He looked down at your hands with the same wide eyes. It was like you were playing with his heart. 

When he felt how cool your hand was and how regular your pulse felt against his skin, while his heart raced his thoughts and his palm became clammy in an instant… he wondered how it was possible you were this confident. 

“Of course not now. Not right now,” you shrugged further, leaning your chin on your shoulder to look back at him to your right. “But last year we were ready to try, right? I want to try again, Ji.” 

Jisung let out a quiet sound and squeezed your hand in fear. He could not bring himself to shut you down, he tried to think of how to say it. 

“I don’t think we should yet.” He decided to say, pursing his lips he looked down at his lap, “it’s still too soon for you. I don’t want you to get hurt having a baby.” 

Your heart sank and your small smile slipped from your face. Would he ever let it go? He could feel your hand go limp between his fingers, his gaze fell on your features and he sighed. Everything in him wanted to say yes, to give in to your every desire… but he had to be reasonable, he had to take care of you. He loved you too much to risk losing you because he got selfish, greedy and horny. 

“I’m-” you fought yourself not to cry, this was not a temper tantrum; this was a grown up conversation, you needed to remain calm. “I’m okay. I’m not going to get hurt.”

Jisung saw right through you, he pulled you into his side and let go of your hand to wrap his arm around you, smelling the soft fragrance of your shampoo as your hair flew in the air. Lavender and vanilla. He kissed your forehead. 

“Y/N, I love you. But you just got back to work, your tomatoes are going wild in the garden and there’s yarn everywhere; I think you have enough on your plate without adding a baby into the mix.”

You looked up at him and pouted, “I want a baby quokka to dress up in that yarn all over the house!” You admit with watery eyes. 

Jisung’s eyes lit up with realization. 

You had been knitting for weeks. More like months. Not even once did he stop to appreciate or wonder how and why you kept making little pieces of clothing. If he ever had to explain it to himself he would assume they were for your pet. And now he felt stupid. So stupid. 

This was something you had been thinking about for a while. A long while. 

“Babe…” he cried as he hugged you to him with both strong arms, “why didn’t you tell me before?!”

You wrapped an arm around his slender waist. 

“I didn’t think you were that oblivious,” you admitted. “Seriously, d’you ever notice what I knit?”

Your husband shut his eyes closed and held you, placing his chin on top of your head. You were not going to drop the subject. 

So he did the best thing he could think of: throw the ball to another player.

“...we need to hear from the doctor, Y/Nie…I need to know that you’ll be okay if we get pregnant.”

You pulled away from him with hopeful eyes, unable to get past the fact that he said “if we get pregnant”. 

“Is that a yes?” You asked in a small voice. 

Han pointed a finger in your direction, “that’s a maybe.” 

And although you tried to hide how excited it made you that he was in on it, you could not help but also feel nervous about what the doctor might say. You knew you did not want to wait much longer, but if there was really something going on with you that did not allow for the two of you to have a baby soon you would be disappointed. Jisung wouldn’t want to admit it, but seeing how bright your face became at his words and how the tears you were fighting spilled freely now as you kissed his cheek…he was kind of hopeful your checkup would turn out alright and all of his fears would go away. He did want so bad to have a baby with you.

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[celestialtitania]

reading year in review

ty @bittersweetresilience beloved for the tag. i have gone diving deep into the archives to pull these out (about 140 pages into my history on ao3 to be exact)...so just about every month has around 2 fics. until i did this i had no idea i read THIS MUCH. insanity.

very long post so under the cut

January

#thatjacksonkid by the_german_grim_reaper (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

Following an episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved, several twitter users do their best to uncover the truth about Percy Jackson. They get surprisingly far.

hilarious. the fic had me in stitches. i love a good outsider pov and esp when it has mortals look into the godly world. it really puts into perspective how crazy their lives are without context.

Internet Friends by limited_edge (My Hero Academia)

All For One, like many other individuals, has non-violent hobbies. Said hobbies result in him trying to troll quirk analyst SmallMight41 online and getting repeatedly (and accidentally) wrecked in the process.

izuku getting the chance to spar with afo, even mentally, is one of the best gifts of fandom. i love seeing izuku winning and afo seething. this fic had me intrigued, in awe, and on tenterhooks the whole time i was reading.

February

Primary Sources (And Historical Epiphanies) by hoover_the_fish (Miraculous Ladybug)

Mary Beauréal hates history, so she's not too jazzed for the history reports and group presentations that Caline Bustier assigns for her class. However, the people in her life have an odd connection to an era her teacher refers to only as, "Ladybug and Chat Noir," a connection that none of them seem to want to remember. "For some reason, there aren’t a whole lot of newspaper articles, but there’s an old blog online that might be worth checking out. As far as I know all the pictures, interviews, the articles that still exist- they all ended up there at some point or another." "Do you know what it's called?" "I believe she named it the Ladyblog."

ive been following this fic for awhile and the MYSTERY has me hooked. this fic is so much more than it seems and it has me so very invested.

fishing in alaska by CaffeinatedFlummadiddle (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

“This… this would qualify as a mental breakdown, right?” Triton asked, frowning over his shoulder to where Percy was still fuming in the corner. The lady at the counter curiously glanced over before lifting a questioning brow. “My brother – half-brother, technically, I have much better breeding – decided to run away from home to where our father can’t reach him and now he won’t leave. And now I can’t leave unless he leaves,” Triton continued. Percy opened his mouth to object that wasn’t what happened at all, but the tyrant only waved a hand to silence him. “He’s seen war or whatever, so if you could maybe just drug him then I’ll throw him into a suitcase and we can be out of here by the Summer Solstice!” Silence. Finally, the woman cleared her throat and turned to Percy. “I’m guessing he’s the one you want checked into the mental hospital?” She asked. Triton gasped as Percy punched the air in victory. “Aha!” Or Getting in trouble works a little differently when your parent is an all-powerful god. Sometimes you have to escape to the land beyond gods and get your immortal brother turned human to drag you back so you can be exploded a million pieces. You know, normal teenage stuff.

one of my favourite fics of all time, ive read this so many times. So Many Times. ao3 says 37 and i believe it. there is comedy, there is angst, and the emotional beats are to die for. 11/10 would recommend.

Life is A Dream by selenemoon (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

One minute Aang and Appa were fighting a storm, the next Aang was holding a baby. When two soulmates are asleep at the same time they create a dreamscape instead of dreaming. Aang has been sleeping a long time. Long enough to raise five soulmates... (Aang is really tired given how long he's been sleeping.)

love seeing the gaang grow up. really taking a closer look into their childhoods is so fun, and they're so babey but true to character. amazing fic.

March

In A Moment Like This by dreamlittleyo (BBC Merlin)

When Prince Arthur vanishes in the middle of a hunt, replaced by a significantly older—and more kingly—version of himself from the future, the world goes a bit topsy turvy. This really isn't Merlin's fault. But somehow, he needs to fix it anyway.

time travel? magic? shenanigans? you can't get me more hooked.

hidden by glacialdawn (Spy x Family)

"Opayshun Sticks gonna fail?" Anya mumbles, fast asleep. Loid freezes on the spot.

coming from the ml fandom, i love a good reveal fic and man does this deliver.

April

Egg-legant Parents by Ewq1111 (Spy x Family)

The kids have to take care of caterpillars, Damian is more concerned why Anya and Glooman are laughing.

this fic is just pure silly. i love those chapters when the kids are goofing around at eden and this fic is exactly that.

a small world, isn't it? by marzipan_maples (My Hero Academia)

Shouto realises there's never a dull moment when it comes to his boyfriend. OR, alternatively: Two times Midoriya Izuku accidentally met Todoroki Rei and the one time it was on purpose.

this may be a tododeku fic on the surface but its really such a character study on rei at the same time. i just love the interactions between the characters and how well portrayed the todoroki family is in how much they care for each other despite the dysfunction.

May

it runs in the family by cloudyheaven (My Hero Academia)

It takes Nana three seconds of knowing Izuku Midoriya to know Toshinori chose the right successor. Or, sometimes a family can be just you, your emotional support Gran Torino, your #1 hero pseudo-son, your adopted grandson, and your adopted grandson's mother.

found family is my kryptonite. just all the wholesome vibes ever.

it's raining, it's pouring (i need you here 'cause i'm a mess) by bleugris (trivia_cypher) (My Hero Academia)

It's raining and Shouto is exhausted, physically and emotionally. It's been hell the past few weeks and his friend, the one person who can possibly understand, is gone, but when Shouto comes face to face with Midoriya again, he realizes that maybe he isn't the one his friend needs, no matter how much Shouto needs him.

ANGST. PINING. TODODEKU. does it get better than this? i dont think so.

June

room to grow by Mysecretfanmoments (Haikyuu)

Third year Kageyama is considerate, careful, doesn't grab Hinata's hair. Hinata's still trying to figure out how he feels about it.

as the title says, just them growing and developing their relationship together. i fully enjoyed them maturing but still being their silly volleyball obsessed selves.

i've been waiting to smile by themorninglark (Haikyuu)

And he’s calling him Shouyou like they’re old friends already. So, Hinata decides, they must be. (or, The Unlikely Tale of how Hinata Shouyou builds an odd friendship with a super-smart, super-quiet rival setter.)

kenhina my beloved. *and* canon compliant. it fills in all the missing gaps and shows just how they became such good friends despite living so far from each other, just what i needed to be fulfilled, really.

July

A Completely Normal Cooking Show by CoreyWW (Omori)

The dream always ended the same, but the start kept changing. This time, the beginning was Hero on his own cooking show.

chills. literal chills down my spine. this was so intense and well written. a psychological horror piece indeed.

all lights turned off can be turned on by Toasted_Waffles (Fairy Tail)

“Loke…” Lucy whispers. “Is there anything I can do to help you? You seem so…sad.” “Maybe you could distract me from my troubles,” Loke blurts. He follows a sudden impulse, allowing his intense homesickness to guide his voice, “I’m curious. Which spirits do you have contracts with?” or: Ever since Karen died, Loke’s been fading away, mentally and physically. Lucy brings some light back to his life.

nothing like hurt/comfort from the early arcs.

August

monster by FireDragonPhia (Fairy Tail)

Monster. How many times has someone called him that?

a natsu dragneel character study. everyone portrays him as super goofy and silly so its nice to delve into his mind and see the serious stuff going in there.

stars on the water by liketolaugh (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

this one. this one was....A Lot. in a good way. it's a percy goes to therapy after the og series fic and it really dives deep into some dark areas. watching percy heal from it was beautifully done. pls check the tags carefully if anyone decides to read this, because you definitely need to be in a good space to read this.

September

Lingering Memory of You by ReaderError72 (Fairy Tail)

Natsu seems to be the only one in Fairy Tail that's aware something is missing. Day: Twelve: "Can you feel me? I'm right here"

nothing like whump for the soul.

October

water into wine by magnuschases (Percy Jackson & the Olympians)

Dionysus accidentally claims Percy. They both take advantage of it. (five times percy was the son of dionysus and one time he was the son of poseidon)

one of The best things to come out of the tv show. i said what i said.

All Roads Lead to Your Grave by nemali (Original Fiction)

this fic was like being hit by pure lightning. you think you know exactly where it's going and it does not go there. drove me insane in the best way possible.

November

dots of stars by Ladykyriaa (Apothecary Diaries)

As he took on a closer look, he realized she looked rather…different, today. Her hair was the same, the usual half ponytail and several strands of hair divided on either side. Her clothes were the usual green robe and brick red skirt. Her freckles was.. Hm?

a bit of a charcter study...or perhaps relationship study. digging beneath the surface and connecting it with the future knowledge is so rewarding to read.

December

Through the Decades...Hour by Hour by TicoryBlues (My Hero Academia)

Against all the odds, through a dozen eras and seven billion people at any given point of time, he had the ill luck of running into Midoriya Izuku. Every. Fucking. Time. Or Immortal Izuku and Time Traveller Katsuki and their non-linear love story

this fic made me whole and broke me apart all over again. and i would read it again. and again. and again.

the love quirk by minimeowngi (My Hero Academia)

For Katsuki and Izuku, their last day of work studies takes a dangerous turn when a villain's quirk alters everything they thought they knew about each other. Katsuki, usually fierce and aloof, wakes up acting uncharacteristically sweet and protective toward Izuku—a behavior that the class can't ignore and Izuku can't explain. While the pros scramble to reverse the quirk's effects, Izuku finds himself caught in a bittersweet dream—watching the person he's always loved shower him with affection, knowing it's not real. As Katsuki's obsession grows, Izuku battles his own emotions, torn between cherishing their fleeting connection and bracing for the inevitable heartbreak when the quirk is undone.

aka the fic i am currently obsessed with. i read every update immediately, as soon as i can. so so SO excited to see where it's going.

phew. that was so many. wow. i def read less in the final few months as i got busy with work, and also concentrated on reading more long fics but still, that was so many fics. at least this way i found some i don't remember and plan to reread hehe. not sure who hasn't been tagged but anyone who feels like it, is free to join!!

[fatrocka64]

My anxiety is off the charts today.. I am deeply sorry for being part of the furry fandom. I know that it has caused many of my family teachers to group home staff and doctors angry at me for many years. I am afraid that I will go to the mental institution if everything falls apart and the furry fandom or other interests that I had in the past, present, and future will be taken away from me. I will potentially book a psychiatric evaluation after my birthday, which will be a consequence for my disgusting behavior caused by anxiety and anger during my childhood, the dark ages from 2006 to 2012. The adolescents years from 2013 to 2016 also made it difficult for me to like certain fandoms but I enjoyed them as a form of disobedience so I can be part of something that my family doesn't have to agree on. I still get support from my father. But I am also afraid that the mental institution could potentially take it away from me if they planned to do it. However I will make a plan to avoid giving Disney any money when the zootopia sequel comes to theatres so i can build a positive relationship with my mother who tried so hard to protect me from the hidden dangers that zootopia was hiding before and after watching the film in 2016. If I had never watched the film, then I would have refused to join the furry fandom because It would obviously land me into the hospital.. however, there could have been a time when I joined it anyway during the Lego movie's popularity. Then, I would be living in the streets because my family refused to understand me and my interests. I did eventually return to places like Great Wolf Lodge and Furnal Equinox, but it made certain staff at school and my group home angry after I explained to them that they didn't appreciate the existence. People told me that wasn't the real reason why they left. The real story was that they got different jobs, but they made me feel like they were condescending about my lifestyle. But there will be a consequence for me liking anthropomorphic animal media. I just wanted to make my mother happy by getting some groceries as I would go to Food Basics and Farmers Market during my days of my childhood from 2001 to 2005. I don't remember much from 1997 to 2000 since I was just a baby at that time. But 2006 to 2012 had stuck with me due to how my parents and brothers reacted to my behavior and obsessions. Even Christmas had been ruined for 10 years straight. Plus, I wasn't allowed to access horror movies or the Simpsons when I was a kid due to violent frightening and harmful content within those forms of media. Plus, Viva Pinata Pikmin 2 and Jack Astors were banned for a while.. because they were obsessions that were beyond my imagination. But my mother did admit I was exposed to violence before i could even speak. I don't remember the first time I witnessed my parents arguing, but I do remember when she would get upset over the stupid things I did.. but she mostly used anger and hate from 2006 to 2016. And yes, I do have autism which makes me feel unique. So therefore.. I will be banned from Furnal Equinox and possibly other furry conventions outside of Canada and the US. In fact, I might be banned from every single one of them if the furry community managed to corrupt me that bad.

If I get banned from Furry conventions.. then I will no longer be able to participate in Furnal Equinox next year.. goodbye everyone and I will update you when I get banned...

Thank you for supporting me all these years.. and have a good life. 🕊

-Fatrocka64

Update: I am not banned from Furnal Equinox just yet, but I will have a nice chit-chat with my doctor about getting me banned from Furnal Equinox next year, potentially after my vacation. I have a new doctor since the female one refused to help me and fed into my obsessions while throwing medications like candy. Hopefully, he will have no choice but to permanently shut down all community access to the furry community for me and put me in a mental institution.. but something will happen after my trip. Something evil.. wicked repulsive gloomy miserable and disgusting...

I will see you in hell someday..

[amesstm]

A Bit of Water

Word Count: 1554

Character: Jean Kirstein

Content: low key sad, head trauma (no mentions of how it happened), amnesia, bit of fluff

“Do you really think Armin’s right about the sea existing?” You asked, sitting down next to Jean. It was a long day of military movement and you were both finally able to relax alongside a lake. Contrary to being with the group of friends you shared, he sat alone.

Your friend looked at you and shrugged, “We’ll know once we see it.”

“I wonder if the water would taste good,” you pondered aloud, suddenly looking at the lake with curiosity. Then you murmured, “Maybe it tastes better than well-water.”

Disgusted laughter erupted from Jean and through laughs he choked out, “Why would you drink sea water?”

Now it was your time to shrug, but with a sheepish chuckle. Yep, your crush probably thought you were weird. “You never know! Maybe it doesn’t taste too bad.”

Jean snickered, “You’re really something, Y/N.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you flushed.

A comfortable silence fell on you two as you both watched the currents of the lake. Everyone behind them were chatting up a storm, but here you two were. Silent except for the sounds of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. The moon cascaded on the lake with white brush strokes to provide a beautiful scene. It was one etched into your mind forever.

You smiled with a sigh, “I’m sure Marco would’ve loved to see it.”

Jean drew a sad expression until he exhaled and smiled, too. “You’re right. He would. But we’ll see it together, okay?”

~

Unfortunately, you never got to visit the sea. In fact, you didn’t know why you were here in the hospital at all. Apparently, you suffered a head injury that made you lose all of your memories. You knew your name, your family, and some of the names of people from your past. The nurse, Mrs. Rei, would tell you of a visitor who only came in the night. She said the visitor didn’t want you to know who they were.

“Did he come again, Mrs. Rei?” There was a loneliness in your voice that the older lady caught onto.

Her mouth dropped into an apologetic line, “Yes, I’m sorry. He’s just not ready yet.”

After a soft sigh, you nodded. It had been a month or two since you were admitted into the hospital from a brain injury. The only people who came were your family on occasion. Otherwise, it was just you, Mrs. Rei, the glass of water on the night stand, and a Wings of Freedom emblem in the drawer.

If what you knew was true, you were a member of the Survey Corps. From where you were now, you couldn’t imagine the courage you must’ve had to want to journey outside the walls. You peered out the window, which was the only escape from this room that you had. Small birds here and there fluttered freely, without a care in the world. Trees swayed with the seasons and life around you carried on. Yet you were stuck here.

Perhaps your comrades were out there right now, searching for answers and fighting off Titans. Perhaps they were all dead and no one wanted to break the truth to you, for fear of further mental regression. Either way, the only thing you did know was that you knew nothing of your unit.

~

It had been a few months since Jean saw you. The last time, you were asleep, as usual. If you were awake, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. How could he tell you that he was the reason you had to be hospitalized with no memory to speak of? How could he tell you everything that your friends went through? How could he explain to you how beautiful the ocean was, but when he saw it, he couldn’t even think about anything else but you?

How could he control himself if you were awake, not even remembering him at all? How would he handle knowing that any feelings you two might’ve shared are no longer reciprocated? Yet he bit his lip and walked into the hospital.

For the first time, he would be seeing you in broad daylight. Albeit in a hospital, it was still better than nothing. The smell of cleanliness hit him first, sterilized as much as possible to reduce infections. Captain Levi would love it here. But this wasn’t a place for happiness.

The nurse, Mrs. Rei, recognized him immediately and knew why he was here; but she still managed to widen her eyes slightly in surprise. “You’ll be seeing her this afternoon, sir?”

He gave a sure nod to stabilize himself. “I think I’m ready.”

She smiled, “Follow me. She’s awake, drawing something right now.”

Jean followed obediently, thinking about what he’d say to you. First, he’d apologize for not visiting in person and then for your accident. Then, he’ll hopefully be able to catch you up on everything. Finally, he’ll give you a present.

“Mr. Kirstein, are you ready?” Mrs. Rei looked at him worriedly. After all, he’s tried to do this before but backed away before he could even open the door.

He exhaled and nodded, “I won’t hesitate this time.”

She smiled, “Good.”

Then, the door was opened. There you were laying on the bed with a sketch pad on your lap. You looked up from your drawing, surprised at having a visitor. He wasn’t anything like your family, who visited in civilian clothing. He was wearing his military uniform, with a clear Wings of Freedom emblem on his chest. You must’ve known him.

Jean stepped into the room, with Mrs. Rei leaving them for privacy. He stood awkwardly before the door, all the conversations he played in his head suddenly vanished. Your curious eyes looked at him from under your eyelashes. In fact, you spoke first, “Hi, did I know you?”

You asked such an innocent, rational question but it still shot through Jean’s chest. The guilt and sadness nibbled at his heart, threatening to swallow it whole. “I- you do. I’m Jean Kirstein. We were in the military together.”

Immediately you sat up straighter, like an invisible string pulling on your head. “So, we did know each other... Are you by chance the one who visits me in the night?”

An embarrassed blush rose to Jean’s cheeks, “You’re right, I am. I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to approach you.”

Despite all his stammering and embarrassment, you smiled kindly at him. “It’s fine. I don’t think I would know how to approach someone who lost their memories either.”

You stared at him, into his very soul. He wasn’t able to look at your face, but chose to look at anything but you. His eyes glanced from the window to the water glass on your nightstand. Then, they landed on your sketch pad. “I was drawing something; would you like to have a closer look at it?”

He slowly stepped towards you, taking a seat as you stretched your arm out so he could see it. As he looked at the drawing, you were able to smell him. His woody scent was so familiar and calming that it put you at ease. In fact, being near him made you so much more comfortable after only having hospital staff as company for so long. You eased and leaned towards him, resisting the urge to put your hand through a complete stranger’s hair.

Jean’s eyes sparkled; it was the same lake you two sat at before everything fell apart. Taking in the drawing, he was forcibly thrusted back into that time. When it all seemed so much simpler and you remembered everything about everything.

“It’s beautiful,” was all Jean could muster.

You chuckled, “Thank you. It’s one of my favorite scenes to draw.”

“Do you remember anything about it?”

“I remember how it made me feel. Safe, warm, happy.” Your voice drifted off, “But I don’t know why.”

Jean’s eyes drooped slightly and a frown pulled at his mouth. Out of habit, he covered his ears. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault you don’t have any memory.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Jean. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was the only way. I may not remember much of anything, but I’m still able to make new memories.”

“R-right,” he stuttered. “That reminds me, I have something for you.”

He reached into his pocket and procured a small bottle of water. At the bottom was a collection of some sand with a tiny, red shell on top. His warm hands handed it to you, “You always wanted to see the ocean.”

You gaped and whispered, “It’s real?”

Jean chuckled with small tears forming in his eyes, “Yeah. Just – don't taste it though, it’s really salty.”

He was so serious with that flat line on his face that you laughed aloud, “Why would you drink sea water?”

“You never know! Maybe it doesn’t taste too bad,” he defended himself and crossed his arms. His mouth pouted in such a way that you felt this strange need to kiss him so he felt better.

Although he was peeved at being teased again by the girl he liked, seeing you smile sent butterflies to his stomach. Another blush rose to his face against his will. Your sweet voice spoke again, “Thank you, Jean. You’re really something.”

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 04

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader |  Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary:  Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: Implied mental health struggles, anxiety and slight panic attack

Word Count: 2.9k 

< masterpost >

  »»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««

  Another three days passing brought forth another fresh steaming pile of emotions. 

I was due to start my job at Bighit in the following week, and had been dropping in to meet with Bang PD and the staff regularly since the initial signing of the documents. Its only purpose was just for me to get to know everyone, since I would start off in the company playing a major role, and for me to get comfortable in the environment. PD-nim knew I was not used to working for such large and renowned companies, and I was so happy he had taken that into consideration.

Another meet-and-greet done today, and I was trembling. 

I didn’t know why it had all suddenly decided to drop on me now, but my only solace was the splash of vivid crimson sitting out in the otherwise monochrome carpark of the building. I yanked open the car door with shaking fingers and all but fell into the familiar leather seat, my breathing uneven from the tightening within my chest.

Don’t get me wrong at all, the company was absolutely amazing, and so were all the staff and their immediate hospitality. Bang PD was like a second father to me already, and I’d even had him ruffle my hair once today after he’d somehow managed to laugh at one of my jokes. His assistant, which I now knew as Chang Soojin, or just Soojin-unni as she had told me to use, was becoming a reliable colleague and friend pretty quickly too. I had met many members of the staff, including the co-ordi noonas, managers, stylists etc. Even a group of interpreters who specialised in specific languages.

Hence why they employed me so quickly, I’d thought to myself after finding out they only knew English and Korean.

There was that one Spanish interpreter, who had been absent on the ‘fateful day’, but he was now doing fine and had profusely apologised to me afterwards. I felt bad for the guy, as I probably seemed like a warning replacement if anything of disarray was to happen again.

Bighit can be bloody scary, damn.

My breathing had evened slightly, but stress was still causing my head to become a mess of jagged scribbles. So much had changed in my life recently, and even if it had an overall positive effect, my mind was still left reeling. This was the kind of sudden responsibility that made me want to revisit my childhood days, to let go of being an adult and to be surrounded by nothing but carefree bliss.

A light rapping on my car passenger window tore me from my strangling thoughts. I gasped, squinting my eyes to glimpse at the darkly clothed figure before sighing. The person had thoroughly frightened me, and I wasn’t very happy about it. They crouched down to look in, and when they saw I was making no move to stop them, they pulled open the passenger door hesitantly.

“Is this Uber operating?” Yoongi softly asked.

I was still irritated that my precious alone-time had been ruined, after going through quite a bit of anxiety about my life in general, but I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the impassive man at the moment. After even more thought, I concluded that having someone to talk to would in fact help me the most right now. When I nodded slowly, sighing again in an attempt to regather myself, he lowered his head in gentle understanding.

“Uh, if it’s a really bad time I-”

“No, Yoongi. Wait is it even okay to not use honorifics? Should I call you oppa?” I shook my head, my voice steadily gaining life again from how croaky it sounded before. I hadn’t cried, but I was definitely on the verge before he’d made his appearance.

Yoongi settled into the passenger seat holding a lidded coffee cup. He was dressed in dark but flowy clothing, and I questioned his sanity briefly considering how hot it was outside. It was mid-afternoon at the moment, but we both didn’t seem to have schedules planned.

“Even though I’m not against it, I feel like dropping the honorifics would work better for you. I won’t get offended,” he hummed, sipping his coffee. I noticed how tired his eyes were under the cap he wore, and instantly felt bad for being annoyed with him before. He adorned a black mask too, but it was sitting under his chin to make talking and drinking easier.

“Did you also want coffee? I could offer to get you one.”

His sudden question caused me to blink in confusion. Then I realised I had been eyeing the cup in his pale hands quite intensely. His dark eyes were blank and his pale blue-white hair was slightly roughened from the breeze outside. Trying not to fawn over him, I broke out into a strained chuckle while my hands came up to slap my cheeks in embarrassment.

“No no no, I wasn’t…Ah I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on at the moment.” I decided to let the cat out of the bag with another sigh. He may as well know what was going on behind my outwardly apparent emotions. I didn’t even know how I was meant to hold a decent conversation when my insides were such a nervous wreck. I knew I would build myself up again eventually, but he just happened to catch me at a vulnerable time.

“Yeah, I could tell,” he started. “I followed you out because I saw you running out here shaking like a leaf. I guess it sounds kind of creepy when put like that.” He shrugged, eyeing the dashboard of my car while I just tried to take in his quiet observation.

“No, actually I appreciate it. You haven’t even met me yet…ugh why am I doing everything backwards right now?” I rested my head onto the steering wheel, positively exasperated. Yoongi and I had never even held a conversation before, but here I was acting like a total idiot and making him worry about my mental health.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all I hear about these days.” He sighs with a groan, letting his head roll back to rest against the leather headrest. My own curiosity was tickled.

“Really? Let me guess, ‘the crazy Uber chick who somehow managed to get herself involved with shit that didn’t concern her’?”

He laughed silently at that, the gummy smile melting my bundling insides into a puddle – and suddenly everything was alright.

I didn’t have to have everything in my life figured out right now, I just had to make the most of my time with these amazingly driven individuals who had undoubtedly captured my heart. Alongside this job which was actually my passion to begin with.

I didn’t even know how I hadn’t freaked out over the fact that the Min Yoongi, worldwide famous producer and rapper, was sitting in my car. He was sitting in the same seat the Park Jimin had sat in about a week and a half ago. I needed to shut down my brain before it began to burn a hole into the back of my skull from overworking.

“That would be funny, but no, definitely not. I just wish the young ones would let me sleep, but they’ve been excited. I swear I’ve already met you ten times at this point.”

I snort in amusement, absolutely loving how blunt he was about the whole situation. Too many people, since I had arrived in the country, were overbearingly polite and careful with their words. I was not used to it at all, and it made the ‘foreign’ experience all the more jarring. Yoongi probably understood this to an extent, so I was grateful he tried his best to be more casual right away.

“Look, can I start driving? I just need to clear my head a bit. Maybe I can introduce myself properly.” I exhaled loudly, my nerves significantly calmed since chatting a little. Even though I felt terrible at the thought, I couldn’t help but be grateful that it was Yoongi who had paid me a surprise visit instead of one of the others. His presence was somewhat reserved and I had trouble reading the guy half the time, but his company was the type I needed instead of something loud and overwhelming.

“Sure, I did kind of barge in so you can continue with whatever you were doing.”

You mean almost having a mental breakdown?

“But I do want to actually meet you, because if I have to hear your name around the dorm one more fucking time without knowing who you are, I may just snap.”

I laughed loudly, his grunt-worthy words causing amusement to roil around in my chest. I figured I would question him about exactly what was said a bit later. For now, I just needed to relax and ease my worries, and driving was my channel for exactly that. I started reversing out of the carpark with silence finally befalling the car, grateful to finally leave behind the line of black company vans surrounding me. I found it ominous if I was completely honest. Engulfed by the view of several identical black vans was a little unsettling when the only car I was used to was Red.

When did I even decide to name my car? It’s such a boring name too.

“Well, I can start by saying my name is (L/n) (Y/n). (Y/n) is fine, and you already known I don’t care for honorifics. I’m from (Y/c), and I landed a job at Bighit Entertainment by letting two of your band members hitch a ride. Ultimately escaping their foreseeable deaths.” My dramatic tone increased the longer I spoke, and I could see the corners of Yoongi’s lips turning up gradually.

“That sounds about right. Jiminie told me you were a big fan, but it turns out you are really collected when you see us. I appreciate your efforts, but feel free to let it out if you need.” He tilted his head with a smirk, his ‘Genius Suga’ persona surfacing within the span of two whole seconds. I just bit my lip to contain another amused giggle.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m not one to freak out after the initial shock. Most of my extra-ness is of the internal type, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment, eventually flashing me that endearing expression where his lips stretched across his whole face. I covered my cheeks with one hand to stop my bubbling amusement from erupting.

“Stop please, or I’ll crash!”

He simply sipped his coffee, smirking again at my reaction. I knew I hadn’t actually doused his ego, but his antics still aided in lifting my spirits higher and higher. As I tried to figure out where I wanted to drive, Yoongi pulled out a small notepad full of scrawled notes and scribbled out lines.

“Well, you already know who I am, that much I can guess. Now that we’ve met, I can tell those kids to shut up and do something useful,” he continued. Even though his tone was full of complaint, I knew he loved every single one of those boys wholeheartedly.

“Where are they now?” I asked through a smile, glancing down as the rapper flicked through his notepad to the page he had last used. “Practicing more, at least I know Jiminie, Jin-hyung and Jungkook-ah are. We’ve got a big concert and a comeback soon, so everyone is riled up.”

“Yeah, that seems like a packed schedule for at least a few months. I’m really excited for what you guys have in store though, it seems too unreal that I actually get to see everything behind the scenes for the first time in my life,” I sighed out in awe, thinking about a possible new album and new content. How could I even go about it normally when everything was different? Wait, was I going to get a discounted album? I surely hoped so.

Yoongi looked at me carefully before making a few notes in his notepad, his fingers working the pen deftly through long and hardened experience. His ripped black jeans were tighter than I initially thought they were, but my attention only went there because he was tapping his foot rhythmically as he wrote.

“Lyrics?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow in his direction and diverting my attention. I drove towards the outskirts of Seoul, hoping to find somewhere quiet and peaceful to settle for a bit. The time had essentially flown by, but I was sure the sky wouldn’t darken just yet.

“Yeah, just the usual. I help write a lot of songs, and lyrics always just flood into my brain at the most random times, you know?” he murmured, flicking backwards to another page and filling in another empty space.

The realisation that I was driving somewhere random and unknown hit me suddenly, and I briefly wondered if taking Yoongi with me would end up costing me my job all too soon. I was quickly reminded of a similar occurrence with two maknaes, one that caused the managers and Namjoon to lose their absolute marbles.

“Um, I was gonna drive randomly around the area, but I just realised that your managers would skin me alive if they knew I took you with me. Does anyone know you’re with me?”

Yoongi looked up, his eyes, which were once laser-focused on his lyrics, now scoured into my own and I gulped suddenly. His long, dark eyelashes were always beautiful, but they were even more mesmerising in person and this close. They contrasted so nicely against his milky skin that I almost lost focus on the road again.

I may just crash and kill someone one of these days. Customer or not.

“I texted a few people,” was all he said before returning to his notepad, and I shrugged indifferently. He was an adult, and he could make his own decisions. I just hoped I didn’t cop any roastings for it later on.

“Would I be able to show you something?” he then asked.

I glanced sideways, catching him picking at his nails with his teeth apprehensively. It seemed he was stuck on something to do with a lyric, but I didn’t know how I could possibly lend a hand. His lyrics were always so impactful and flowed so nicely. How could I form my own opinion when everything I’d heard from him so far was nothing less than beautiful?

“Yeah? Did you need another perspective?” I probed, willing my feelings of disbelief down into the depths of my subconscious.

“Well, I’m trying to tie together my verse in one of the new songs, and I almost have it. I want someone fresh to have a look.” He held out the pad and I pulled over onto the side of the smaller road. We were now definitely nearing the more ‘picturesque’ side of Seoul anyway, and the city fell away behind us as my eyes scanned over Yoongi’s handwriting. The last line struck a chord deeply within me.

“This is real you, and this is real me” – which one is “you”? Which one is “me”?

“Wow, this really hits hard,” I breathe, reading over the snippets of the verse he had written again to fully absorb what was going on. The whole thing was emotional, and raw. I could imagine his voice rapping hard to form these thoughts, the angry and hurt emotions seeping in.

“I can feel the struggle through the lyrics. It’s like you’ve been through a false love that you threw yourself into after believing it was true...a betrayal of sorts, I guess?” I met his eyes again and grew a little confused when a chuckle of irony fell from him. It must have been some joke I didn’t understand.

“I’m glad you feel so much from it.” He blinked. “I’m actually going to try a different technique with this track, so expect some changes from my usual style.”

He then smiled again, taking the notepad before I could catch any glimpses of the other notes. I couldn’t contain a soft huff of annoyance. “You’re not just gonna tell me?”

He deadpanned before parting his lips to respond. “Just because you work for Bighit doesn’t mean you get every special privilege.” I almost reeled at the thought of bothering him with my question, but he only smiled again while tucking his notepad away.

“Plus, you’re a fan, so my goal is to keep it a secret for as long as possible.”

“Mean,” I grunted, pulling out onto the road again so I could start to head home. The sky was darkening, and I knew there were only so many boundaries I could push before I crossed the line. Yoongi seemed to know this too, but he avoided addressing the subject for some reason.

“Where do you want to be dropped? I’ll have you know I’ve been charging you handsomely for this Uber service,” I muttered, still pretending to be pissed off at him for hiding information.

“I’ll buy you a coffee next time, I promise.”

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved

tagged: @l4life​, @joyful-jimin​

[lola-siciliani]

Homecoming ( Part III )

When: July 9th - July 24th, 2021

Where: Wrigley Field / Wrigleyville, Boystown, Sears Tower (fuck what google says), Foster Beach 

Warnings: None. 

Featuring: The Sicilianis (Elena, Nonna, Pops, Aunt Connie, Uncle Nick, The Cousin Squad) 

After spending the whole day at the outlet mall…in true Siciliani fashion, the two of them headed out and went back to the city to finally surprise Nonna and Pops with Lola…little did she know was that the tables were turned when they arrived to be surprised with them at the door. It was a comical sight watching them attempt to scramble down the stairs, Elena facepalming and praying to the highest of heavens that neither of them fell. Lola hugged her grandparents as tightly as she could, excited to spend at least the next few weeks with the exploring the city and sitting and watching General Hospital with Nonna. 

The next few weeks were just as she expected. 

She went to watch the Cubs with Pops and her Uncle Nick, cheering them on and yelling, “HIT IT HOME BAEZ!” And “LOAD THE BASES FOR CRYIN’ OUT LOUD!” They shared polish sausages with the sweet caramelized onions and mustard and good ol’ Miller Lite beer as they typically did and took a few selfies…mostly for Uncle Nick’s really cheesy instagram. 

After heading home, she was dragged out to Boystown for shopping with her Aunt Connie who returned from a “business trip” in New York (more like went to hook up with one of her sugar daddies in New York, but she was hustling hard) —and was mostly roasting how Chicago’s Pride Parade was unnecessarily extra. In which the younger one showed a video of how wild Santa Monica was. 

“You guys treated Pride like Coachella on cocaine and LSD, and I’m kind of jealous. We just looked like fucking parrots like that Rio movie!” 

Lola laughed, shaking her head. She loved hanging around her Aunt Connie, mostly because she was the cool aunt that traveled around the world and always had a wild story to tell. Plus, she was the one who got her, her first fake ID. However, neither of them were in the mood for going out to the bar, instead, they ordered pizza and had wine, where they sang very loudly to Lady Gaga until the wee hours of the morning. 

As per usual, while Elena had her work meeting and Pops was out doing yard work and gossiping with the neighbors, Lola and Nonna watched The Price is Right, General Hospital, Family Feud, and Wheel of Fortune all while cooking and learning to master the art of making the perfect ciabatta bread in the comfort of a nice air conditioned home. Between the occasional giggles and Nonna playfully scolding her in Italian, it was everything she had needed to clear her head. 

Then came the pivotal moment, Lola finally braving the Sears Tower’s Sky Deck (and if anyone ever told her it was Willis, she’d scoff…and maybe tell you off). She was always roasted for getting nauseous the moment she stepped into the glass box, but this time, she’d take a leap of faith with her mother and bravely stepped in and laughed excitedly. She took a picture of her feet and sent it to her siblings’ group chat and found out that poor AJ had been home alone as Ivy had finally taken time to jet off by herself. That notion made Elena scoff. She knew her kids way too damn well. 

As all good things, her time in Chicago was coming to an end, mostly because she wanted to go out and enjoy the rest of her summer back in Santa Monica. So she took a “mini road trip” to Foster Beach to lay in the sun, reminisce, and reflect in front of the sparkling Lake Michigan. They sat, grilled hot dogs, burgers, and laughed about how their lives had all changed…with Lola being one of the youngest, her life was going through rapid changes and having that reassurance and genuine encouragement reminded her that she wasn’t alone navigating through this weird maze called life. 

Upon the final drive to O’Hare Airport, Lola felt at ease and Elena could see that in her daughter. Sure, her mental health would have to be closely monitored, but overall, Lola felt better about herself and felt better about her next chapter. Maybe this was one of those moments where she just needed to ground herself back at home before taking the final plunge into the unknown. 

She hugged her mother tightly. 

“Go get ‘em, kid. I believe in you and call me when you land, okay?” 

“I will, ma. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Lola-bear,” the older woman pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. 

Just like that, Lola was headed back to Santa Monica with a clearer headspace and ready to take it on. 

[themusicplayedherlife]

Some Sugar

Prologue: The Walls Are Caving in

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, reader’s family: mom and sister, may parker, peter parker, steve rogers word count: 3k+ warnings: angst, family issues, money problems summary: your family money issues are only getting worse and you don’t know what to do a/n: its hereeeee and this is part of @the-canary​‘s lyrics challenge! lol let me know what you guys think!

all || next

The nurses greet you with a smile as you pass by their station. You return their smile with one of your own, ignoring the struggle it is just to lift the corners of your lips to do so. They’re chatting excitedly about something amongst themselves, but you don’t bother stopping to check in with them, you’re only here to see your mom before heading out to pick up Esmeralda from school, anyway.

The hallways are a plain white and the lights are blinding in comparison to the fluorescent yellow in the patient rooms. The smell of strong chemicals lingering in your nose, getting stronger as you approach the room your mom is occupying.

Laughter reaches your ear as you push open her door, and you’re surprised to see Esmeralda sitting by your mom’s side, looking every bit a spitting image of you and your mom, only younger.

“Esme, what are you—“

“You’re here,” a familiar voice says from your left, and you’re even more surprised to see May and her nephew Peter sitting on the uncomfortable loveseat. “Esme said you wouldn’t be out for another couple of hours. If we had known we would have picked you up on our way here.”

“May! Peter! Hi. Yeah, I—I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” You had tried to keep your attention on May and Peter to not seem rude, but seeing your sister here instead of at school where she said she’d be is throwing you off. “I thought you had cheer-leading tryouts?”

“The pipes under the football field unexpectedly burst and flooded the field and half of the school. So cheer-leading tryouts were cancelled,” she says offhandedly and Peter nods, confirming she’s not lying. But something in the way his eyes shift from his Aunt May and your sister, and finally to you has you doubting their story. 

But there’s no way that she’d come up with such a huge lie that you can easily debunk by asking May or calling the school—she’s too smart for that. There’s a reason they’re hiding something, and Esmeralda wouldn’t hide something from you unless she thought it was necessary—is she worried about the cost? Your heart drops to your stomach knowing that might be part of it. She’s always been hyper aware of what she can and can not have, even though you try your hardest to give her everything you can to the point that you took out a loan just to pay for her school’s tuition this year. But with your mom’s hospital bills added to the pile at home, she knows you’ll be working overtime to meet due dates.

“There’s always next year,” she says with a smile on her face, trying to cheer you up—when it should be you cheering her up.

“No, postponement date?” you ask, and she pauses briefly before shaking her hand. 

“It’s at the same time as the Debate Team meeting.”

Your eyes move to your mom, who is watching you and Esmeralda with warmth in her eyes, but the small downturn of her lips tells you she’s blaming herself—again.

“Okay,” you start slowly, watching as your little sister’s face lights up. “Next year, then.” She doesn’t wave you away when you ruffle her hair.

May scoots over and pats the empty space between her and Peter. “You must be tired.”

“I’m fine, May.” Not really. You really could use a nap, maybe a whole cup of coffee sans sugar and milk. But you still trudge over to them and plop between them, laughing when Peter makes a show about being squished between the armrest and you.

You spend the rest of your break laughing at the stories Peter and your sister tell your mom about school and their friends. It’s easy to fall into a carefree mentality, to forget your worries when you’re surrounded by everyone, but it’s just as easy for it to shatter.

The alarm on your phone goes off, alerting you and everyone that playtime is over for you. With a barely concealed groan, you stand. “I should start heading out.”

“What time are you off, sweetheart?” your mom asks in her tired, gravelly voice, the machines hooked up to her frail body beeping rhythmically.

“After midnight, maybe. Depends how slow it is at the bar.” Which really means, I’ll be out at two in the morning, at best.

Her furrowed eyebrows says she doesn’t like that one bit. You don’t like it either and neither does Esmeralda. It was easier when mom was home, Esme didn’t have to spend hours alone in your shit apartment waiting for you to come home before finally feeling safe to go to sleep. But what else are you supposed to do? You need the hours and the money.

“Why doesn’t Esme stay with us for the night?” May’s voice steals your attention away from your thoughts.

“Can I? It’ll give Peter and me the chance to work on our presentation!”

“It’ll be awesome! We can stay up and watch Rogue One again and—and—I—I mean totally work on our History presentation, yep.”

You snort at the sheepish smile on Peter’s face and the glare your sister sends his way. “It’s your call, ma.”

She smiles weakly. “I think it’s fine. Thank you, May.”

May walks over to her and squeezes her hand gently. “You don’t have to thank me. You know Peter and I are always here to help. We should head out too. You need your sleep.” She turns to you with a smile. “Want us to give you a ride to work?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

The bar, known as Howlies to the regulars, was packed from the moment you arrived, surprisingly enough. Every inch of it covered by bodies sitting on the booths distributed throughout or standing in groups with their friends in hopes of finding an empty booth to claim for themselves. People ordered with a speed you had not seen since working here, but you kept up—appletinis, White Russians, Bourbon on the rocks, shots—so many orders and drinks flowing.

Guess your boss’ newest advertisement method is working.

By the time you’re getting ready to close, your feet are killing you and your neck is stiff. Even bending over to pick up something or to wipe a table is a pain on your lower back. Closing up is usually easy between you and your coworkers—wiping down tables, booths, counters; washing glasses and dishes; stacking the stools and sweeping the floor; mopping and removing the sticky residue on the floors, but tonight you just want to get it over with and get home.

Cassandra Jones, your boss and owner of the bar, hands you an envelope with your tips as you’re packing up your stuff in the back room.

“Good night?” you ask her, too afraid to open it and count how much you’ve made. The last few weeks have been bad, $50 to $70 tips in total, even when having a steady flow of customers.

Her tight, chocolate curls bounce when she nods with a smile. “It’s not a lot, but it’s better than we’ve had all year.” She bumps your shoulder with hers to grab your attention. “Let me just finish up at the register and we’ll head out.”

You nod as she walks off.

Opening the envelope tentatively, you pull out fives and tens, and surprisingly enough you count $190. It’s not great, but it’s better than you’ve seen since you started working here. With what you’ve saved up from tips, maybe you’ll be able to convince Esmeralda to try out for cheer and buy her outfit? Warmth fills your chest. Maybe this is a sign that things are going to get better?

You wake up to loud knocking, a familiar squawking coming from the front door—you strain your ears to make out their voice. Aunt Maria? Fuck! You’re quick to get up and throw on some decent clothes, hopping around the apartment to get to the bathroom and brush your teeth. Careful to not get any toothpaste on your shirt, you bend down close to the sink and brush harshly as the knocking gets more and more incessant.

You quickly wash up and yell out, “Coming!” but it does nothing to calm your aunt’s rapid knocking. With a curse, you kick stray clothing under the couch and pick up dirty dishes and place them in the sink in the kitchen, where she hopefully won’t traverse into. You pick up scattered tools and place them in your tool box and then open the curtains and windows to let in some air and noise that’ll hopefully drive her away quicker.

With a deep breath, you open the door with a practiced smile to greet your aunt. “Aunt Maria! Hello! I wasn’t expecting you.”

Her cat like eyes travel up and down your body, judging your appearance like always. “Tia Magdalena,” she corrects you when she finally meets your eyes. As if her name isn’t Maria Magdalena.

“Tia, right. Sorry,” you mumble, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. “Come in, Tia Magdalena.”

She flashes you a fake smile as she saunters inside. “I was just in the neighborhood and I thought I would stop by.”

“I see.” You close the door and take another slow, deep breath before turning to her where she stands awkwardly in the middle of your small living room. “Would you like some water or juice?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Would you like to sit, then?” You offer, sitting on the ugly, green armchair your mom likes so much.

She eyes the sofa with distaste and then turns to you with another fake smile that slips from her face when you don’t smile back. “No, I’m only here for a bit.”

“Well, what can I help you with?” So you can go on your way and I won’t have to see your face again.

“With your mom in the hospital, I thought you’d be the one I should to talk to about this,” she says, reaching into her purse to pull out a thin manila folder and hands it to you. “It’s an agreement your mother and I signed during your second year at NYU.”

“An agreement?” you repeat unsure, dread starting to build up. You flip it open and your heart just about drops to the pit of your stomach as your eyes land on the bolded lettering—Loan Agreement. “Aunt—Tia Magdalena, what is this?”

She makes a displeased noise in the back of her throat. “Your mother was struggling to help you and Little Esmeralda with school supplies and clothes, so she came to me for money.”

Your eyes scan the paper and you recognize the curves of your mom’s writing—her name and signature. $8,000. 8,000 fucking dollars. She asked for 8,000 from her? How did she—She hadn’t said anything! Why would she go to your aunt of all people?!

“I gave her six years to finish paying off her debt to me, which I thought was completely doable.”

“20,300 is how much she needed to pay back?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from quivering—how could your mom have accepted that?

“I gave her what I thought was right, honey. Her credit score is just about awful and I needed some kind of reassurance for myself,” she says in a matter-of-fact, a small smirk on her face.

“She’s family, Tia. Your sister-in-law—how—how could you—“

She scoffs, dropping the pleasantries. “She chose to came to me for money. If she didn’t like it, she shouldn’t have signed.” Rolling her eyes, she takes another sweep of your apartment. “Shouldn’t you be glad I’m not charging her or sending her to court for the missing payments? I get that she’s sick, but that doesn’t mean she can skip out on payments. Seriously.” She looks at her distasteful nails, long and pointy, ready to scratch someone’s eye out. “There’s no guarantee she’s going to die, anyway.” 

She said it so spitefully, so poisonous, that you could feel it coating your own tongue, entering your bloodstream and injecting you with a searing pain and anger that you’ve never felt before. It's hot and unbearable, and you hate her! You hate her so fucking much! The paper and folder crumple at the edges from the pressure of your hands, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. “You need to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, get out!” you practically scream as you stand, no longer able to contain your anger, dropping the folder onto the floor. 

She rolls her eyes again and makes her way over to the door. “The agreement period is set to end in two months, honey. If she doesn’t pay the remaining 11,000, I’m going to sue her for everything she has.” Her lips twist into a horrible sneer as her eyes roam your apartment. “Which apparently isn’t much.” 

The door slams harshly, reverberating through the walls, the picture of your family shaking at the impact and about ready to fall.

A frustrated scream rips from between your lips, hands swiping at your hair as you desperately try to get a handle on your emotions. 

You try to keep yourself composed as you walk down the halls of the hospital, ignoring the chatter around you as you make your way over to your mom’s room. You keep a tight grip on the folder in your hand and march inside her room to find her awake, eyes on the television—until they notice you by the entrance. Her eyes widen and brighten at the sight of you, but when you don’t return her smile or greeting, the light in her eyes dim. “Baby? Everything okay?”

Your mind is yelling at you to throw the contents at her, to accuse her of ruining you and Esme. Anger fanning the flames as you wonder how she could’ve let this happen? How she could’ve put Esmeralda and you in this situation? Did she not think of the consequences? How this could lead to Esmeralda losing the only home she’s ever known? Lose everything you had both worked hard to get for Esmeralda? 

But there’s an itch in your chest too, begging you to hide the contents of the folder, to leave and keep it a secret. Your mom has always been a hard worker, fighting for your family even after losing your dad in that accident, even after your brother abandoned you. She didn’t allow herself to grieve knowing she couldn’t afford to. Instead, she pushed herself forward for you and your siblings, never complaining once. She just kept going and going, overworking herself until she put herself right back into the hospital. 

She wouldn’t have signed that contract unless she deemed it necessary, unless there was no other choice. She wouldn’t do this to you or Esme on purpose. 

She wouldn’t.

You hide the folder behind your back. “I’m okay. Just a little tired.”

Her eyes water and you instinctively take a step forward, taking her thin hands in yours. “I’m sorry, baby,” she says softly. “If I—“

“Don’t,” you stop her with a squeeze, knowing she’s blaming herself for everything that’s been happening. “None of this is your fault, okay? You just focus on getting better and I’ll do the rest.”

Her lips are set in a tight, straight line, but she nods, knowing that whatever she says next, you’re not going to listen to or will wave away. Her eyes move to the beige folder you’re trying to hide behind your back. “What is that?”

“A job application,” you lie through your teeth, but to pay a fraction of what is owed to your aunt, you’re most likely going to need a third job. Or maybe you could convince Cassandra to give you more hours at the bar, or you could always pick up more shifts at the restaurant.

 “Baby,” she tries again, but you shake your head.

“I’m just thinking about it, haven’t even filled it out, yet.”

“Please don’t,” she begs you, letting go of your hand to try and cup your cheek. “You’ve already sacrificed too much for us. Stop doing things for our benefit and start doing them for you.”

You bend down, taking her hand and holding it between your cheek and hand. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lean into her touch. “You know I can’t do that, momma.”

“I know,” her voice cracks. “I know, baby.”

She falls asleep with your hand in hers. Her breathing is steady and soft unlike the loud beeping of the machine and the television playing low in the background. She used to be such a light sleeper, any small noise waking her up at every minute, but here she is now sleeping as if the world was still (when it’s not).

You need some fresh air.

Picking up the folder, you leave her room, only looking back at her once. Would things be different if dad were still alive? If JC were still around? 

The call of your name has you pausing, Esme is watching you carefully with worried eyes. She takes in your appearance—disheveled and red, puffy eyes. “You okay?” she asks, before panic sheens over her eyes. “Is mom okay?”

You’re quick to reel her back in with a hand to her shoulder and pull her towards you. “She’s fine, Esme. Just sleeping.”

“It doesn’t get easier does it?” Her voice is low and quiet, opposite of her usual loud and cheerful self as she presses her face into the soft material of your worn out t-shirt.

“No,” you tell her truthfully, resting your cheek on the top of her head. “No, it doesn’t. But we’re here for each other, right?”

She mulls over your thoughts, eyes darkening for a moment before they brighten and she smiles.  “Always.”

You return her smile weakly. “Did you come alone?”

She takes a quick glance behind her back and nods, frowning. “No, Peter dropped me off before heading out for some outing he has with his internship. You sure you’re okay?”

You ruffle her locks and smile ruefully. “Mhmm. Stay with mom, yeah? I need to step out for a bit.”

Before she can say anything, you step around her and head towards the elevator, ignoring her call of your name. With a shaky hand, you press the button for the lobby and lean back against the metal walls of the lift, head falling back. You close your eyes and take a deep, shaky breath.

The small courtyard is strangely quiet for the early afternoon. It’s usually full of patients and their family members taking a breather, needing to smell something other than anesthetics and chemicals. But you’re glad it’s empty—you have all the space in the world to cry and be angry and sad at everything and everyone.

It’s not like you’ve thought of life as unfair—hard, maybe. But unfair? Never. You have a roof over your head, a mother and sister that love you and do what they can to help, two jobs that pay, and a best friend that although is miles away, you can call and vent to. Yes, bad things have happened—from your dad’s death, to your brother disappearing, and your mom’s cancer returning, but they were things that you got and are getting through with the people you love.

But right this moment? You feel so alone, and it’s unfair.

How is it that bad things just keep happening? Why can’t things get better before they get worse? It’s always hit after hit, never a break to just fucking breathe and live your life!

You sob into your hands, wanting nothing more than to have the whole world stop for a minute and just allow you to grieve.

“Ma’am?” A gentle male voice coaxes—deep and stern, maybe even a little worried.

You wipe away your tears harshly with the back of your hands. “Sorry. Am I being too loud? I’ll—I’ll keep it down, sir.” He doesn’t reply, instead a blue handkerchief is shoved under your eyesight by red gloves. Lifting your gaze as you take it, you’re taken aback by the man standing in front of you—Captain America?—wearing an exact replica of the one Steve Rogers used to wear in the 1940’s and the Battle of New York. “Thank you, uh, Captain?”

You had heard from a nurse that the hospital tended to hire actors to play the heroes you’ve only ever seen on TV, knowing that the kids loved seeing their favorite heroes in person, even if it’s not the actual heroes themselves. But it’s your first time seeing it since your mom has been admitted back into the hospital.

The man offers you a small smile, blue eyes softening at the sight of your blotchy face. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

You duck your head, sniffling and wiping at your tear stained cheeks with the handkerchief.

He shuffles on his feet awkwardly before sitting down next to you. “Do you mind if I sit—well, I’ve already sat down, haven't I?” 

Your surprised chuckle comes out like a strained sob. “You’re fine.”

He flashes you a warm smile, but other than that, he’s quiet. He just sits with you in companionable silence—you should think this is uncomfortable or a little weird, having a stranger sit with you as you're trying to reel yourself in. But there’s something about this man dressed as Captain America that is soothing. It’s no wonder why the hospital hired him to keep the patients company.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, breaking the silence between you. “You didn’t have to, um, sit with me.”

He flashes you a pretty smile, blue eyes twinkling with sympathy and kindness. “It was no problem.”

Your voice falters as you hand him back the handkerchief, used only to wipe away your tears. “Here, I—ah—“

“Keep it,” he says, closing your fingers over the piece of cloth, and you frown, unsure. “I have another one at home.”

“Thank you,” you say again, sounding like a broken record, but the kind stranger doesn’t seem to mind. “I should head back inside.” He nods and stands with you. Awkwardly, you turn on your heels and walk away.

“Ma’am,” he calls out to you, and you pause, looking at him over your shoulder—he’s frowning, fiddling with the strap of his gloves, but he looks up and says, “I may not know what you’re going through, but they will get better. It might not be today, or tomorrow, but I want you to know, that I believe it eventually will.”

You stare at him, and he continues to fiddle with the strap, eyes downcast and refusing to meet yours. There’s something endearing about a flustered Captain America, actor or not. Your lips twitch with an involuntary smile. “Thanks, Cap.”

next

[scribeofmorpheus]

Chasing Tornadoes {3/6}

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Series Warnings: poorly written medical procedural, mild delving into spirituality, language, overbearing egos, graphic descriptions of medical procedures. more warnings to be added. 18+ Generally, like my blog.

A/N: suprisingly, very little to warn about. blood splatter?

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open -comment or send an ask!

<< Previously ○ Next >>

~

“God, you’re insufferable!” You slammed your clipboard into Stephen’s chest, it was surprisingly firm in a subtle way. You swallowed.

Stephen grabbed your wrist, not tightly, but firm enough to lock you in his grasp. He tugged, you moved forward against your wishes.

“And you’re so goddamn stubborn,” he whispered.

You shook your head, “I can’t believe you went around my back and interfered with my patient! That wasn’t your call. If I wanted your help, I’d ask for it!”

Stephen inched you towards the wall, back pressed to the familiar hospital walls. “You and I both know, I was the more qualified to handle this one.”

Why is he being so blasé about all this? Your breath hitched when he moved in a little closer. Why is he so close?

“Steph—”

He cut you off, lips prompting a rise in euphoria as soon as they met yours. They were soft, supple. But there was a boldness beneath it. You whimpered, finding it strikingly good. Deliciously good. And then while your head spun and Stephen stole your breaths, your surroundings changed to the familiar navy blue of the OR.

You gasped and pushed Stephen softly, “How did we…?”

Stephen followed your gaze.

A group of surgeons, masked up and gloved up, were performing surgery on a banana. You stuttered, at a loss for words. Stephen shrugged, unphased and then moved his attention back to you. Lips a mere millimetre away.

You recoiled, “Stephen.”

“What?” He asked, somewhat disappointed.

You pointed your ring finger at the operating table, “The banana.”

“Oh, right,” He turned. “How’s our patient?”

A beeping noise sounded out. A fellow spoke: “He’s going into cardiac arrest.” The beeping stopped. “He’s gone.”

“I’m calling it, time of death—”

You were shaken from your sleep by the sudden reorientation. With a loud thud, you landed hard on your ass, the sheets tangling one foot.

You rubbed your eyes, vision coming back blurry and spotted, “What the hell kind of dream was that?” Your fingers trailed over your lips. Dry and chapped and sorely missing the softness of the dream. You groaned, in no mood to deal with some romance drama in the workplace.

You were roused from the floor by the sound of something breaking. With heavy eye-lids and noodle arms, you hoisted yourself up and walked towards the kitchen, the source of the sound.

Rich loam soil and four fragmented pieces of a flower pot lay scattered on the floor. A small root system was peeking out from under the stove; it belonged to a cactus. The last cactus you owned.

You groaned as your eyes trailed up to the former resting place of the now destroyed flower pot and saw Spike’s fat reptilian body trying to slink away.

“Oh no you don’t, you leathery cat,” you hopped over the mess on the floor and grabbed Spike. You held him close to your face so you could stare into his eyes. “What is it with you and cactuses?”

Spikes tongue slithered out then in again before he let out a whiny growl.

You rolled your eyes and scolded him, “If you keep this up I’ll put you up for adoption.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance as you opened up the balcony door and let Spike down next to the arbour. “You stay out here and think about what you’ve done while I make breakfast.”

Spike made another lazy growl before moving away from the door at a snail’s pace. You hastily swept up the soil from your wooden floors and set aside the broken ceramic pieces in case you wanted to use them for another DIY home decor project.

While you put together a fruit bowl for breakfast, you noticed you hadn’t checked your voicemail. As you squeezed out the last two drops of honey onto your breakfast, you listened absentmindedly to the voice messages while making a mental checklist.

“Hey, Y/N…” Teddy’s soft voice reminded you of a lounge singer who smoked too many cigarettes in between sets. The kind of swaggerful baritone that belonged to men like Frank Sinatra or Nat King Cole. Ironically, Teddy’s face matched the softness of his name more than it did his pitch in voice. “I sent a few messages but I suppose you were on shift. That tornado…messy stuff. My cousin is local fire department, she told me—”

Remember to pay Mr Eliopoulos for the takeout. Teddy’s voice dissolved into white noise as you chewed your food. Get some bills out the ATM to keep on hand.

The next message played after a beep and you weren’t the slightest bit sorry you didn’t fully catch the rest of Teddy’s message.

“Y/N, it’s Irene.” –You froze. For a second– “I don’t know if you deleted my number after the last time we talked or not so…Yeah. It’s Irene,” your sister’s voice was a startling surprise to hear. She sounded as lively as a doornail, probably all the hours spent banging her head instead of her gavel in the courtroom. Irene thrived in the city, even if she never looked fully awake in any of her social media posts. You didn’t care much for city life and its exhausting churn.

Remember to save Irene’s number. Again.

“Mum called me, frantic that you didn’t call or text to say you were okay. She watched the news. The tornado rattled her. Your phone was off the whole day. I had to clear a whole day’s worth of meetings because her angina was acting up.” Irene was rambling in her monotone.

Angina isn’t a disease.

Irene paused as if she’d heard what you’d thought. Then she took a breath. You could practically picture her working her jaw muscles as she fought the urge to get emotional. “Call mum.”

Call mum.

The distance between you and Irene wasn’t consolidated to the miles between your cities. Irene was prickly, like a cactus. Maybe that’s why you had so much trouble growing them. But she was also the only person on the I-95 highway who stopped to pick up a wounded iguana on her cross-country trip that winter you moved into your apartment. That iguana was Spike. That was also the first and last time Irene ever stepped foot in your apartment. And the second time you’d deleted her phone number.

“Or at the very least, post one of those disturbing pictures of Spike dressed in baby clothes,” Irene’s tone turned condescending. There was some chatted on her end of the line. “I’m needed in the chamber.”

No rush saving her number. You swallowed the last spoonful of food before dumping your bowl in the sink. Then you opened the balcony door to let Spike back in.

A third beep. Another message.

“Dr Y/N?” the voice on the other end of the line was now very familiar to you. For a second, you wondered if you were still dreaming. “Dr Stephen Strange. The relief. I got your number from the on-call sheet. Just letting you know I got the go ahead first thing this morning to prep for the transplant. I’ll be the chief surgeon on staff. Marcy is in the best hands. Literally. I’ll see you at work.”

Ask about the transplant. You head shot up so fast you were convinced it’d crack like an Indiana Jones style bullwhip. Transplant?

“Marcy…” you mumbled before rushing to get to the shower. Just then another message played. The last. On it, Mike told you he was on his way to pick you up and that you should do something, but you weren’t paying much attention at that point. You had less than five minutes before he arrived.

Your shower was cold and quick. About half-way through, you realised the conditioner was practically empty. No time to fully detangle your bed-head knots, you raked your fingers through and washed all the shampoo away, making sure to add a little styling crème so your hair wouldn’t look like frizzy from the summer humidity.

You made sure to grab your go-bag, keys and lock the balcony door before rushing out the door just as Mike pulled into the driveway.

Mike had dark circles under his eyes, wind tousled hair that was still damp in places and an outstretched hand dangling out the car window with a coffee flask waiting expectantly.

You grabbed it and hastily made your way to the passenger side.

“Thanks,” you said out of breath as you unscrewed the cap and took a swig. Mike looked at you with a perplexed expression. When no coffee touched your tongue it was your turn to look back at Mike with a similar expression. “It’s empty.”

Mike nodded, “I know it’s empty.”

“Why’d you give me an empty flask?”

“Because you were supposed to make the coffee.

“Then you should have told me to.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

Mike stared at you with a knowing look for a second too long. He sighed, rubbing his red eyes, “You didn’t listen to the whole voice message did you?”

You opened your mouth to retort but then you realised Mike was right. You clicked your tongue, “We can stop by the café near the intersection.”

“You’re buying,” Mike put the car in drive while you tried your best to distract yourself from thinking about Marcy.

“Tell me something new.”

 You got dressed into the maroon scrubs in the locker room. Your lanyard feeling particularly heavy that day. Maybe you weren’t as ready for today as you thought you were.

You had hoped and prayed to whatever constituted as a god on any particular day that Marcy would get a new lung. A healthy lung. And that she’d finally get to experience her youth, but now your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and your heart was so loud you wanted to scream just to shut it up.

But today was here and you only had the one heart, so you made a fist, took a long, deep breath and ran towards the OR.

Bach in C minor was playing over the sound of the heart-lung machine. There had been a slight pause when you walked into the OR mid-surgery, but everything continued without fail.

You knew, logically, that observing from the theatre was the right thing to do. The impartial thing to do. But this wasn’t any patient. This was Marcy. The girl you helped with her science homework that one weekend she came in for a check-up and stayed for a minor surgical procedure. The girl you watched rerun’s on cable TV with when you had the night shift. The girl you watched grow up.

Doctor Weisz was among the medical staff in the room. Strange didn’t bother looking away from Marcy’s open chest cavity.

“I don’t remember calling for a second pair of hands,” Strange said as if he was talking to himself. “Did you Doctor?”

Doctor Weisz’s words came out muffled behind her mask, “No.” She kept an impressive straight face. Come to think of it, you had never seen her smile. Or get angry. She was always professional. Even her haircut was a choice of convenience; short and slicked back.

You stepped out from behind Strange’s frame and moved in closer to Marcy. It was a little unsettling how normal she looked in a hospital gown with the elastic of her breathing mask drawing two red lines across her cheeks. The open chest cavity was different though. Unsightly.

Your fingers trembled, reaching out to hold her open palm lying flat on the table when the sudden loud beeping of the heart rate monitor shook you to action.

A squirt of blood sprayed out, turning the sterile blue operating gowns dark with plasma.

 “She’s bleeding,” Strange noted as if reading a catalogue. “There’s too much scar tissue.”

“BP is dropping. Fast,” Mike said. You hadn’t even noticed him in the room.

“Clamps,” Doctor Weisz’s hand was stretched expectantly to the fellow behind her.

Your feet were glued in place, like a statue with open eyes that couldn’t look away, just watching. Your brain yelled at you to snap out of it, let your training take over, set your emotions to backburner. But none of it worked.

“Someone get her out of my OR!” Strange’s composure shifted for the first time. It was then that you noticed your hand was holding tightly onto Marcy’s.

Just as Strange instructed, someone grabbed your hand and pulled towards the doors. Once you were out in the bright hallway you realised it was Mike.

 In the last couple of hours, you had treated a kid with tonsillitis, a man with a hangnail and one skateboarder with a concussion.

Why’d today have to be a slow day?

You sighed as you flipped through a medical chart Arlene had handed over for a second pair of eyes to go over.

“You said she came in with a fever?”

Arlene stammered before straightening her spine, “Y-yes.”

You kept quiet for a few seconds, waiting for Arlene to jump on cue and finish telling you the symptoms. She didn’t.

“Arlene?”

“Yes?” She looked up, big eyes fully attentive. Her innocence was endearing, but if not grown out of, it’d be a hindrance in this profession.

“This is usually when you fill me in.”

“Oh, right,” she fumbled with her chart. “Uh…loss of appetite, abdominal cramps and joint paint.”

“What’s your diagnosis?” You looked up at the wall clock, watching the hands tick.

Arlene fidgeted, “M-my diagnosis? I um…” She wiped her forehead as if there was sweat on it. “Cramps, fever and joint pain could be…stomach flu?”

“Viral gastroenteritis, yes,” you agreed with her diagnosis. “Treatment?”

Arlene was getting more confident, “Rehydration Solution, anti-viral—”

“Good, do it,” You excused yourself when you spotted Mike walking down the hall. The surgery was done.

“Mike!” You caught his attention. “So…how’d it go?”

Mike tried to miss eye contact, “She’s stable. Transplant wrapped up okay.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Mike rushed to place his hands on your elbows. “Marcy’s fine, taking well to the lung. She’s on assisted breathing until the rupture heals and the pressure is relieved on her muscles. She will have to stay in Recovery for longer but she’ll pull through.”

You laughed, a bright smile beaming over your face, “Then what’s the issue?”

Mike bit his lip, “Strange recommended to Weisz that you be put on probation for the time being.

Anger rushed unexpectedly, “What?”

Stephen suddenly appeared down the hallway. You marched over to him. He looked at you, expecting your oncoming aggression.

“You recommended I be put on probation?” You folded your arms to seem imposing.

Stephen glanced knowingly at Mike. Mike shrugged before disappearing into the lounge.

“God, you’re insufferable!” You flashed back to your dream and now you were confused as to what exactly you should be feeling.

“And if today is any indication, you’re too emotional,” he said softly.

You baulked, feeling insulted, “Too emotional?”

He rubbed his neck, “I told you about the operation out of professional courtesy. You had no right to barge into my OR and distract from the procedure. You put a bad foot forward, unprofessional. Weisz agreed. I suggested temporary probation to prevent Weisz from dealing a worse blow.”

You scoffed, “So you were helping me, is that it?”

“Yes,” he sounded on edge. “You’re too raw to be working right now. If I was your superior, I wouldn’t be assured that you could competently manage the rigorous expectations of the workplace.”

“Unbelievable, you really do walk around thinking you know everything, that your word is final. Mike was right, you have no reason to overstep your boundaries. You’re the relief, not my boss,” You threw your arms up in the air, ignoring the other residents listening in.

Stephen sighed, pushing passed you, ending the argument prematurely.¨

“Where are you going?” You demanded, following in stride.

“To get a drink,” he pressed his eyelids. “If you insist on still handing me my ass, you are welcome to join.”

You stalled for a second then decided to continue your squabble.

To be continued...

[kingofthecats]

Breathing life into a Stone @inanisvitae

Heavy clouds hung over the mountaintops as Shera pierced through the skies, their destination: The Western Continent. The Commissioner of WRO sat in his rickety seat with a laptop balanced on his knees, going through the various files sent to him by WRO volunteers of unusual weather patterns and environmental phenomenons happening all over the world in the last seven days. Opening one of the attachments, there was a blurred photograph of a humanoid figure hovering over the desert region. It was impossible to get a good look at the enigma due to the low quality of the photo through the intensity of the sandstorm, but it looked like a secondary appendage was sprouting out of its back.

"Like a one-winged angel," Reeve cursed under his breath. "Where's Valentine when you need him?"

The turbulence eventually evened out as they approached the landing pad. Closing his laptop, Reeve unbuckled his seatbelt and disembarked with the captain of the ship at his heels.

"Where's the kid?" asked Cid, lighting a cigarette.

"I want to keep him out of this," said Reeve as various WRO employees rushed about to brief them on the current situation. "Cloud's done more than enough for the planet to earn some peace. Besides, this isn't a warzone, this is a diplomatic mission."

"And what makes you think that son of a bitch wants to sit down and have a nice chat over a cup of tea?"

“The fact he has not sliced through my men and gone on a rampage tells me he is a man that can still be reasoned with.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Tuesti.”

“I just need ten minutes alone with him.”

“Reeve-”

“-Five minutes!”

The pilot grit his teeth and waved off the docking bay assistants trying to get his aircrafts details and landing permit. “You're mad if you think I'm just going to let you walk in there alone." 

"Then it's a good thing he won't be going alone, Laddie!"

Both men spun around in astonishment as a bouncing ball of black and white fur leapt out of the cargo hold and scurried over to meet the two, a familiar red cape flapping in the breeze and a golden crown miraculously staying perched on its fluffy head.

"Now is not the time for you ventriloquist act, Reeve!"

Reeve did not say anything but stared down at the robotic feline with a neutral expression.

~I don't recall asking for you to come, Caith Sith.~

~Good. I don't recall asking for your permission.~

~This is dangerous. You could get hurt.~

~So could you. At least when my head gets chopped off my shoulders I can re-attach it.~

~The last time he was running about you died!~

~It was my choice to make~ the doll countered, still remembering the remnants of another life where another Cait Sith sacrificed themselves in order to obtain the black materia. ~You never faced him Reeve, not in person. Besides, what would ma think if I let her son walk into the lion's den alone?~

Cid flicked out the bud of his cigarette, eyes darting back and forth between his friend and the robotic toy he was having a staring contest with. The pilot didn't know the details behind how Reeve could operate Cait sith wirelessly, only that it was a mental thing, but there was something peculiar about the way Reeve was glaring down at his own creation, like he was having a conversation with it. “You ok Reeve?"

Both sets of eyes snapped back to Cid.

"I'll take Cait Sith with me for protection. If after five minutes I cannot get him to hear my proposal, you have permission to coordinate the WRO troops into position and take him out.”

"It's your funeral," Cid snorted but said no more as they got into the jeep that took them to their destination. The sand dunes quickly faded into lush green foliage and both men recognized the area as belonging to the Ancient Forest. They pulled over by a WRO campsite where the red beret troops briefed the two men (and cat) on the situation. This was Sephiroth's last sighting official sighting and if the reconnaissance team is lead to be believed, the target has not moved from this location since.

"You think he's waiting for us?" asked Cid wearily.

"I don't think he's waiting for us specifically," Reeve frowned, fingers running through his goatee, "But he must know we're watching him, and yet he's not making an effort to get rid of us. So we'll take advantage of his hospitality for the moment and try and figure out what he's after."

"Probably another magical stone to finish what he started."

A heavy silence fell over the campsite but Reeve would not be perturbed as he and Cait Sith entered the perimeter of the forest and went looking for Sephiroth based on intel's last report regarding his current location. Cait Sith stayed close to his maker and made quick work of any rogue monster in the area that blocked their path. They didn't need to scout very far as they stumbled through the last of the thick undergrowth and emerged into a clearing where a splash of black and grey greeted them.

Reeve took a moment to exam the face he had only ever seen through Cait Sith's eyes. Pale skin, square jaw, sharp cheekbones, aristocrat nose, long silver hair, black leather coat and boots. It was like glimpsing into the past. The man had not aged a day since the advertisements plastered the General's photo all over the broadcasts. The surrealness of the situation hit Reeve like a tidal wave and he found it hard to stay afloat, caught by the otherworldliness of those serpentines eyes and that pulsing aura that seemed to radiate from his very pores.

A small hand tugged on the hem of his coat, snapping Reeve’s attention back to animatronic feline who was smiling up at him reassuringly. Feeling safer knowing his companion was there to protect him, Reeve took and deep breath and stepped forward..

“Sephiroth,” he greeted courteously with a polite bow. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was the Head of City Planning when you were still in SOLDIER. I am a friend of Cloud Strife and founder of The World Regenesis Organization, a volunteer group working to protect and restore the world after the aftermath involving meteor and Shinra draining life energy from the planet. My team have been watching your movements for some time now and I have a proposal for yo-”

“What about me?” Cait Sith interupted, pointing at himself. “I was there with Chocobo-head at the Northern creator when you went all Bizzaro form and started distorting reality. You probably don’t recognize me without Mog, gimme a moment."

Reeve squirmed as Cait Sith proceeded to crawl up his long purple coat and settle himself on the human's shoulders, getting out his megaphone and waving it about. "What about now?"

~Why did I bring you along again?~

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 20)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19

She Said

The spectacle of an entirely speechless Keanu was one to behold when he unwrapped the test. I’d been bursting with the news since the morning before when I got the result so it had been an endurance test for me not to have anyone to share it with for over 24 hours. I knew there were long months ahead to get through but it was lovely to share the joy of this moment with him and go to sleep secure in his arms after almost a month apart.

My mind since finding out had been racing, projecting forwards to how far along I’d be by key dates like the summer holidays, Keanu finishing John Wick 4 filming, the Matrix 4 Premiere …… and I was worried about the immediate future too.  I hadn’t been especially sick with either of my previous pregnancies but I had been incredibly tired. With Eva, I was doing modelling contracts but not every day so, on days off, I remember just sleeping for ages. Obviously with Miguel, I had a toddler to care for so I couldn’t nap unless she did but I sure took advantage of that time whenever I could. I was also worried about the home schooling which was really full on. How was I going to soldier on through that? And by the time Keanu would be home again, I reckoned I’d already be nearly 20 weeks along. I suppose he would at least be there as the strain on my body got greater.

I also told myself not to get ahead of myself. It was such early days and whilst I’d not suffered a miscarriage myself, I had plenty of friends who had in these early stages. And the spectre of stillbirth was also there because of Keanu’s own experience. Until this baby was here, I was sure neither of us would rest easy.  I didn’t really want to share the news with the kids until the pregnancy was better established. I was pretty sure they’d be pleased but they might worry about the new baby somehow taking priority and if the worst happened, I didn’t want to have to explain about how not all babies make it to full term to an 9 and 7 year old. But I also knew friends who had kept their pregnancies secret, suffered a miscarriage and then felt they couldn’t share the pain of the loss afterwards so maybe openness was the best option with our close friends and family and maybe even the kids. I’d have to add this decision to my list of things to talk about with Keanu.

 He Said

When I woke up the next morning,  my first reaction was to pull the human hot water bottle in front of me into my chest, relishing being together again. And then I remembered. She wasn’t just my partner anymore but also the mother to be of my child.

A big smile spread over my face at this thought. Then worry creased my brow.

Sophia had said she reckoned she was around 8 weeks along - that left 32 roughly for anxiety and things to go wrong!

She’d managed to book a scan for before my return to New York so we’d hopefully get to see the baby, tiny dot that it would be, and get the dates confirmed.

She actually reckoned it was that amazing day in NY that we’d conceived. The dates were right and she remembered someone telling her years ago that your chances were better if the woman also climaxed when the man did as this had the effect of sucking up the sperm further with the contractions in the vagina. Who knows if there’s any truth in that but I certainly remembered the powerful sensation of being sucked into her very well!

32 weeks. Man that seemed like forever. And the dates were a little freaky too. If you calculated by her dates, then the baby was due on New Year’s Day 2021. Ava had been due in early January and was born sleeping on Christmas Eve 1999. Jen and I had conceived after being careless after a Matrix Premiere party. At least this time, there was nothing accidental about this baby and no nagging doubts about the relationship.

We’d have to tell Cheryl in case anything got leaked and then there were the kids and our families to consider. I was cautious but also remembered my therapist’s advice - the one I’d seen in my 40s after years of suppressing the processing of my trauma after Ava & Jen’s deaths. She had tried to get me to accept that worrying about things on your own was never healthy and that being hopeful that good things will come doesn’t jinx things and nor does preparing for bad things to happen stave them off magically. I rationalised that all we could do was take care, have regular check ups and try to enjoy the journey.

I know Sophia was probably more anxious than her first pregnancies, in part due to her age but also due to what had happened to me and Jen. I decided to suggest we hire some help with the home-schooling to ease the daily stresses of her life in the coming months.

And all these thoughts had gone through my mind before Sophia even woke up!

Eventually I felt her stir and she turned in my arms to give me a sleepy morning kiss

“Morning handsome”

“Morning beautiful mama”

She smiled

“Oh you’re not gonna be one of those men who reduces their partner to a mere vessel for their child are you?”

That made me chuckle.

“Naaah, but you’ll let me be a little bit excited right?”  I placed my hand on her belly  again.

“ Right” she said and leaned in to given me a gentle kiss which quickly deepened into something more heated. Then she pulled away and looked over at the clock.

“We don’t have time lover boy”

I groaned, but knew she was right, - it was already 5 to 7

“Hey get used to it! And Don’t worry we have tomorrow to ourselves”

I gave her a quick squeeze and just then Eva and Miguel burst into the room.

“Keanuuu” was their first cry and so the day began!

 She Said

On Keanu’s first day back, it was a school day so he got to witness  the transformation of my dining room into a mini classroom with each kid stationed in front of a laptop with headphones in on an off for a morning with exercises to do in-between. Luckily, although there were 5 kids, they were only spread across 2 year groups so 3 (9 year olds) had one set of exercises and 2 (the 7 year olds) had another. He helped out by listening in to the 7 year old’s lesson while I supported Eva’s year group with theirs. Miguel delighted in bragging that Duke Caboom was helping him with his addition, making Keanu give the teacher a little wave on the zoom screen.

After lunch together, Keanu sent me off for a nap and sat down to read them all  some chapters of the Roald Dhal story we had started and then and got them all playing quiet games like hangman and battleships for a while. When I came in,  they had just started watching “Up”. I tried to suggest an alternative but it was too late and they were all set on it. I mean, I love that movie but I had a feeling Keanu wouldn’t have seen it before and he wouldn’t be expecting one of the early moments. I was proved right when he made a rapid exit to the kitchen when that scene played out and I followed him to make sure he was alright.

He was leaning over the sink, trying to pull himself together and I slipped my arms around him, whispering.

“It will be OK darling, we’ll take all the care in the world to keep this baby safe and well, I promise! We just have to take it one day at a time”

He turned then and held me close and didn’t speak for a few more minutes, stifling a couple of sobs against my shoulder. When he’d got himself a bit more together, he  pulled back and looked at me, eyes a little red from crying.  He let about a shaky breath before speaking.

“Sorry - that just took me by surprise and, it was, it was like all my worries in the few hours since finding out were playing out on the screen and it was “ he shook his head. “It’s just a bit  overwhelming how much I want this baby with you and how horrifying the prospect of losing them is”

“I know sweetheart, me too, me too and I tried to get them to pick another movie but they were already set on it!”

“Yeah, I’d heard good things but I didn’t know the detail.”

“It’s wonderful, you should see it through for the pay off!”

 He Said

That evening as we were both slumped on the sofa, exhausted from the 5 kid day, I told Sophia my thought about getting her some support with the home-schooling. I thought she might be all “superwoman” about it but she admitted to finding it gruelling even today with my support and a little nap.

“I just can’t describe how energy sapping it is being pregnant. It’s not like I’m doing anything out of the ordinary but “

 “Hold it hold it, you’re growing a human being, don’t call it nothing out of the ordinary!”

“You know what I mean! And women have been doing this for thousands of years at the same time as tilling the land or working in a factory. Getting help does seem a bit ridiculous but at the same time, I so want it! What do you think the others will think?”

“What Julie and Miranda?”

“Yeah. I mean are they going to feel I’m cheating or something!”

“Not if you explain why ......”

“Yeah, about that. How do you feel about telling people?”

“Weeeell” I rubbed my chin thinking it over. “There are pros and cons right? I’m probably pro on balance because I think being open is probably better mental health wise. I don’t know about the kids. I mean it would be hard if you told them and ....

“And something went wrong ..... like in ‘Up’?”

“Yeah like in ‘Up’.” I squeezed her hand remembering earlier.

“I mean, actually maybe ‘Up’ is the answer. They’ve watched it before and I think we had a little chat about that scene the first time around so ....”

“Ok, so let’s go for it”

“Ok, Tomorrow if the scan is ok, deal?”

The next day, we drove together to the hospital but I dropped Sophia off first just so we wouldn’t be making an entrance together. We were also both masked up and I wore a beanie so hopefully we’d escaped any opportunist paps.

The wait was brief in the obgyn waiting area thankfully and we went in having a brief chat first to confirm when Sophia’s last period was etc before she was asked to lie down for the scan.

I  gripped her hand - I don’t know which of us was more nervous!

The screen showed a cone shape black area which was the uterus as revealed by the ultrasound waves and then there was a tiny circle which flashed in and out of view  - the doctor explained that was the heartbeat.

We each had tears of joy rolling down our faces.

The doctor left for a few minutes while Sophia wiped away the jelly and got dressed again.  I pulled her up for a kiss, still choked up.

“Thank you”

“No Thank you!” was her reply.

 She Said

After the relief of the scan, we made the next appointment for the end of the first trimester which Keanu was aiming to fly back for. Then we headed home, with me meeting Keanu in the car park rather than walking out together, again hoping to avoid any stalking paps. We picked up some lunch from a deli and headed back home. After our meal, Keanu sent me to take a nap – he had some e mails to catch up on regarding the upcoming shoot schedule and he could see that the visit had taken it out of me. I snoozed for a couple of hours, waking to find Keanu had joined me and was spooning me with his arm slung around me, hand on my belly again. I didn’t mind him being possessive of it!

I stretched and slowly turned round to see if he was sleeping too but he quickly opened his eyes.

“Hey, is that better?”

“uh huh – I needed that thanks”

“How long do we have before we have to fetch the kids?”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly 3”

“OK, well we have an hour and a half”

“time to show you how much I’ve missed you he said in a low voice, while softly stroking my breasts through my t-shirt, that OK?”

“mmmm more than OK”

We had slow, gentle sex and I delighted in the fact that we could vary from the intense, the jokey, gentle or wild when it came to sex, whatever felt right and this soft focus version was just what I needed right then, being in the unenergetic pregnant state that I was with tender breasts and erratic emotions.

Over at Julie’s we left the kids to play in the garden for a while and we embarked on telling her our news and the plan to get a tutor to help me with home-schooling on my days. Luckily she was both delighted at our news and happy with the tutor plan. I promised to keep her and Miranda involved with the process and then we headed home with the kids being the next ones to receive the news once we’d eaten dinner.

 He Said

As dinner plates were cleared away, we told the kids to stay put as we had some news.  Sophia was the one to tell them that she was going to have a baby so they would hopefully have a baby brother or sister in the New Year.

Eva was attuned to the language and quickly asked

“Why only hopefully?”

“Well, right now I’m pregnant, you know that word right? And the baby is very, very small, just developing and growing. And sometimes babies don’t develop right and so there isn’t a baby in the end.  Do you remember that happened to Ellie and Carl in “Up”? Hopefully everything will be just fine and the doctors and Keanu will be looking after me really well but I can’t promise you, OK?

“But I don’t want you to be sad like Carl and Ellie” Eva’s eyes had already filled with tears.

“Me either” Miguel whined.

I could see Sophia’s lip quavering too and swung into action, standing up and lifting first Miguel and then Eva to stand on their chairs which I pulled near to me.

“Come on Sophia, over here for a group hug.”

So we all stood together and hugged them close while I repeated what Sophia had said.

“We all want this little baby to come, I know and like Mom said, I am going to look after her and the doctors and you two too and everything should be absolutely fine, OK so try not to worry and just be super helpers to your Mom while she has all this work to do, looking after you two OK?”

They both solemnly nodded.

“Can we have a brother?” Miguel asked excitedly?

“Now that I definitely can’t guarantee!” I said laughing. You don’t get to choose if it’s a boy or a girl”

“What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter to me one little bit – just a healthy brother or sister for you two.

The mood had lifted at last though I could tell it had been hard on Sophia.

 She Said

 After the kids had gone to bed, the tears I’d had to hold in when we were telling them about the baby flooded out.

“Tough huh?” Keanu said after I’d stopped crying and dried my eyes.

“You know it was less about the baby and more just their loss of innocence. It  reminded me of how I felt when my parents told me they were getting a divorce.  I guess it’s the moment when you realise life isn’t all candy bars and unicorns!”

“Yeah I know but look how strong and resilient you are now -  it was  tough but it will help them in the long run. A dose of reality isn’t necessarily a bad thing”

“Yeah but the look on Eva’s face broke my heart a little bit!”

“I know, but what a lovely, loving little girl - what she said about not wanting you to be sad like Carl and Ellie …..”

“Stop it, you’ll make me cry again!”

“Well that’s not hard!”

“Shudup you, you!”

“What?”

“You gorgeous lovely man, I guess!”

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithk’eanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles @bitchyslut99

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part seven) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part seven: While Dean makes a tough decision regarding who has to leave the ranch, Y/N finds it more and more difficult to keep her feelings in check.  Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Thin Line - honeyhoney (bar scene), Ride to Death - Carter Burwell (evening ride scene), Wonderwall - Ryan Adams (scene under the Joshua tree). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Dean pulls his head out of the refrigerator with six bottles of Corona hooked between his fingers. After he straightens his back, he pops off the cap with an opener, repeating the action until all bottles are opened. He’s about to break out the whiskey for his uncle, when the ranch owner hobbles towards the bar. The wrangler doesn’t really register him, though, because as his hands work swiftly, he watches his crew. The group of young men and women laugh over a - without a doubt - exaggerated story told by Benny, as they down the first round of the evening. It's Friday and the night is still young. With a day off in foresight, the workers allow themselves to enjoy the evening to the fullest. Dean will go easy on the alcohol, he has the early shift tomorrow.      Amongst the group of staff, there is one person in particular who brings a smile to his face. Y/N’s laughter carries through the saloon, mixing with the country music that comes from the jukebox. It’s a great sound, one that causes the corners of his mouth to creep up. Jo and Ash are teaching her how to play poker and so far she’s terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to matter. She’s having tons of fun and gets along great with the others. Still wearing a smile, Dean glances down when he pours the amber liquor into the whiskey glass, sets it down on the bar after which he slides it towards Bobby. As if he knows who is on the wrangler's mind, he glances over at the intern as well.      “So how’s our ‘wannabe cowgirl’ doing?” the ranch owner wonders.

     A chuckle rumbles deep down Dean’s throat. He remembers calling her that when he shared his concerns with Bobby on the night of her arrival.      “She survived the first week,” he admits. “Y/N’s a good fit. Still has a lot to learn, but she works hard and she’s smart.”     “So, what you're sayin’ is that the intern isn't a total disaster like you predicted?” Bobby continues, his brow raised.      “You just wanna hear me say you were right, don't ya?” Dean returns, amused either way.      Bobby’s face shows a glimpse of a smile while nursing the tumbler of whiskey.       “Maybe.”      The young man shakes his head grinning as he takes a swig from his Corona. “What I'm sayin’ is that you got lucky. You know this could have gone south,” he returns, not giving his uncle the satisfaction.      “It could have,” the ranch owner admits. “But I had to get creative; talking about things going south.”

     The tone of the conversation changes instantly, leaving a heavy silence. Smiles die, their heads dip down, and gone is the pleasant Friday night feel. Dean is fully aware of where this conversation is heading towards. The issue has been bothering him for an entire week now. He has to decide who of his men to let go      “Have you made up your mind yet?” Bobby asks his right hand.      Dean nods, letting a sigh slip from his lips. He feels like he’s about to snitch on a friend. But this is business, it's what's necessary for the ranch to survive. It’s not personal, and yet it is, because it’s pulling on his heartstrings when he pronounces the name.      “Ash.” 

     Dean’s eyes land on the group at the long table again. The Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie from Kentucky with tattoos on his arms and the wind in his hair is the one who has to go. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was the logical one. With the livestock reducing to only sixty cows and their calves, he will not have enough work to fill his day. What also weighs in, that Ash was hired last. Nevertheless, Gold Canyon is his home and he is a part of this family. He watches the guy, how he points out the pair of jacks in the open card game they are playing to teach the intern Texas Hold’em. The genuine smirk on his face is followed by a backhand down five when she wins. Poor dude, he has no idea what he’s about to lose.      “I’ll break it to him after the weekend.”      The voice of the old man, who seems to have aged during their chat, is sad and burdened. It's clear as a bell that laying off Ash is the last thing he wants for the bull rider, who he took under his wing half a decade ago. It’s a position Dean doesn't want his uncle in; the troubled ranch owner has enough on his plate as it is.      “I’ll do it,” he offers.      “Nah, I got this one, son,” Bobby says, reassuring him as he reaches across the bar to put a hand on his shoulder. “Join‘em, make the most of tonight.”      His nephew nods while picking up the drunks, and heads for the table, after glancing at Bobby Singer another time. Dean swallows down the guilt and worry before he takes a seat, leaving his company oblivious to the dark clouds that are gathering above them.       “So, how's it going? Do I have a new competitor yet?” he asks both Ash and Y/N while he gives out the beers.      “I'm getting the hang of it,” she returns confidently, picking up the two cards Garth just dealt.      Dean watches the young woman without her noticing, too focused on the game. Ash observes every action over the shoulder of his apprentice without helping her this time and is proud when she wins once again with three eights.      “Beginners luck,” Jo scoffs, pushing the pot in her friend’s direction.      “Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N grins at the blonde from across the table.

     It’s Jo’s turn to shuffle when a group enters. Distracted by the squeaking sound of the double doors, Y/N looks up, noticing that Casey is amongst the guests. Ignoring the heavy feeling in her chest, she directs her eyes back to the cards, the bright smile on her lips toned down. Expecting Dean to have his eyes on his probable fix for tonight, her gaze wanders. He noticed the pretty brunette, but it’s not Casey he’s looking at. As Y/N glances over, so does he, and they both seem to feel caught for busting each other. She cannot help but wonder why he would be checking on her, though. Was he curious about her response?       “Hey, handsome.”      Dean smiles up at Casey, who positions herself behind his chair, laying her delicate hands on his shoulders as she kisses him on the cheek. He forces himself to come off as sincere, but there’s an anchor restraining him.      “Hey,” he responds. “Had a nice ride?”      “I did. Would have been better if you were there,” she flirts.

     The game continues, but Jo doesn't deal for him, assuming that the two are going to leave for the bunkhouse anyway, like they usually do whenever Casey is here. After giving out the cards, the ranch owner's daughter peeks up from her hand, noticing her friend, who tries to mask the annoyance and disappointment to what is happening on the other end of the table. When she looks up, Jo’s brown eyes lock on hers as she lifts her chin shortly, the mimic asking if her friend is okay. Y/N nods and fakes a smile, but loses this game anyway.

     “Hey, you wanna get outta here? To have another sort of ride,” Casey whispers in Dean’s ear as she leans in.      He gulps down his beer and sets down the bottle. Her offer should sound tempting, then why isn't he intrigued? Instinctively, his eyes slip over to Y/N again. She seems to be concentrated on the game of poker, but she’s not at ease like she was a minute ago. This time she doesn't grant him any recognition of his existence.      “I - uh…” he starts, brought back to the conversation when Casey softly massages his tense shoulder muscles. “I had a busy week and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm gonna hit the hay early.”      “I can come along and help you relax,” she presses, now wrapping her arms around his neck.

     Y/N picks up on Casey’s offer and grinds her teeth. Suddenly she’s angry with herself. How could she be so stupid to let herself get swooned off her cowboy boots by that scumbag ? Sure, she fought it, she denied it, but at the same time, she found hope in every smile he threw at her, in his flirts and compliments. How could you possibly think for even one short second that he only has eyes for you?! What makes you so special?  

     When Y/N loses to Benny again, she glances at her watch. Ten past nine; it's not too late to train with Meadow. She was reluctant to leave the fun a moment ago, but now leaving the Saloon seems like the best idea she has had all week. Y/N gets up, attracting confused looks from the company.      “You're leaving?” Jo assumes.      “Yeah, I still have to train Meadow,” Y/N excuses.      “You're gonna ride now ?” Dean responds, perplexed. “We were just having fun.”      “No one ever improved their skills by getting plastered and by just having fun, Dean,” she responds, his name coming out with a sneer. “If you want to own it, you've got to work for it.”

     The cowgirl gets up and pushes the chair back under the table, the sound of its legs scratching the wooden floor breaking the silence. As she turns around to leave, her eyes meet Jo’s, who has a ‘you tell’im, girl!’ grin on her face. The doors flap after she walks through them, and the men at the table chuckle.      “She's a diehard, that’s for sure,” Ash says.       “Yeah...” Dean acknowledges, confused. “She is."

     He watches her go for a few more seconds, determined strides, frustration in the sound of her footsteps. What the hell was that all about? For someone who claims to be strictly business, she turned pretty defensive when Casey got a little clingy. Oh, he caught the true meaning behind her words, alright. Is she really implying that if he wants her, he has to step up his game? If that’s the case, this might actually be a good thing. Yes, she’s annoyed with him right now, but this could mean he has an actual shot.      “So, what do you say?” Casey asks again, pressing a seducing kiss in his neck.      He glances up at the gorgeous young woman. She is pretty, wavy brown hair frames her flawless face, some freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. Under that blue blouse and bootcut jeans, there is the body of a pinup girl. One who knows how to get a man’s engine running, which he had the pleasure of experiencing more than once. Dark, lustful eyes tell him all about what she has in store for him once she gets him alone. Yet for the first time, he’s not interested.      “I'm gonna have to pass,” Dean decides.      Somewhat stunned, Casey keeps a hold of the wrangler’s gaze, giving him a second to reconsider. When he doesn't, she creates a little distance and straightens her back.      “Alright then,” she huffs. “Your loss.”      The brunette strides away towards the bar, leaving the poker players in awkward silence. Ash and Garth follow the gorgeous beauty with their eyes, then simultaneously turn their heads to look at Dean, perplexed.      “Dude, did you just piss off two women in one minute? That's impressive, even for you,” Ash comments.      Jo snorts, her beer almost coming from her nose. Dean glares at her.      “What?” she counters. “You just turned down a female specimen of the human race. We should call 12 News.”      “Are you done?” Dean replies, agitated.      Before Jo can throw in another cocky counter, Benny lays down a flush and gets up as he clears his throat.      “If you kids will excuse me. I've got a fish to reel in. Keep the change."      He winks at Dean, who nods back at his friend as a sign of consent. The head wrangler held his part of the agreement, and Benny is going to take full advantage of that. He watches how the farrier settles down on the barstool next to Casey, complimenting the beautiful girl with his irresistible accent, after which he offers her a drink.       “That slick Southern bastard, he’s going to have her in his bed before she knows it,” Ash says, eying at the pair with an impressed look on his face, but then he rises from his seat. “How about some pool, y’all?”      Garth gets up to follow him, but Dean declines.      “I'll be right up,” Jo promises.      When the guys move over, Jo corners her cousin. She gets up, walks around the long table and feels his forehead.      “Jo, don't be ridiculous.” He smacks her hand away. “I'm not sick.”      “Then what the hell is going on with you?” she asks, confronting. “Casey is your usual set of hooters to honk. Since when do you just turn that down?”      “Since now,” the head wrangler answers shortly.      “Why?”      The head wrangler sighs annoyed. “Because I got bored.”       “Because your eye caught something shinier,” Jo corrects. “Dean, Y/N is off limits.”      “Says who?!” he argues.      “Says me!”      “You can't tell me who I can or can't--”      “- fuck and dump when you're done with her?" his little cousin interveans. "Yeah, I can! She's my friend, damn it!”      “Your friend?” Dean scoffs, fighting with Jo as siblings would. “You barely know her. This is her fifth day!”      “Since when is there a mandatory minimum time on friendship?” she cries out. “I care about her and you know just as well as I do that she’s gonna end up with the trash like Casey.”       Dean shrugs, finding her arguments invalid. “Casey doesn’t give a shit.”       “But Y/N will,” Jo brings to mind. “You will leave her a heartbroken mess when you’re done with her. She’ll go home cryin’ and you know damn well we’re gonna need her.”      That comment triggers Dean to furrow his brow. Being the daughter of the owner has its perks. Apparently, she’s aware of the financial problems that are threatening the company.      “How much do you know?” Dean questions with a lowered voice.      “I know there's gonna be a layoff and that we are gonna need all the free help we can get,” Jo states, whispering.      The head wrangler sighs, checking on his crew at the pool table. His eyes linger when he spots Ash, who pockets number thirteen and repositions himself behind the white ball for his next turn.      “Dean, you can't afford to screw around,” his cousin adds.      I’m not screwing around, is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not going to let his cousin in on something he doesn’t understand himself.      “She's not going anywhere, I'll make sure of that,” Dean assures, calmer than a moment ago.      “She better not, ‘cause if she does, that’s gonna be on you.”      With those words, the youngest Singer gets up and heads for the pool table as well. Dean watches her, staying behind with only his beer for company. Burdened, he drops his head, his jaw tensing. Great. One of his good friends is going to get fired next week, he doesn't feel like blowing off steam with Casey, and Jo won't even allow him to be with the girl he’s after. Not that she's falling for his usual tricks, anyway. Just fucking great.       With a sigh he downs his beer, which lost its spark, causing him to make a face at the bland taste. Then he gets up and exits the Saloon. Leaving the muffled sounds of music, conversation, and laughter behind, he slouches down the porch. The evenings are pleasantly warm, now that the monsoon season is reaching the home stretch. The night sky is so clear, that a thick ribbon of stars meanders across, the absence of light pollution allowing the Milky Way to shine brightly.       Going over tonight’s decisions once again, Dean heads towards the bunkhouse, when two individuals catch his eye. About a hundred yards ahead, Benny has his arm around Casey as they stroll up to the front door. Before he opens it, she tiptoes when the farrier turns towards her, meeting him in a hot kiss.       “Benny, you sly dog,” Dean grins.      Surely, he grants his friend the home run, but a part of him thinks of passing up Casey as a loss, now that he will be left empty-handed. The early night isn't going to happen either, since Benny’s room is next to his. He halts as the two enter the bunkhouse, passionately making out, then he breathes out a humid cloud of air. No way in hell he is going to listen to those two banging their heads against the backboard for the rest of the evening. Dean turns around, considering to head back to the Saloon, but then he notices the lighted outdoor arena. He almost forgot; Y/N is still at the barn. Maybe this evening does not have to be a total loss after all. Jo’s voice whales in the back of his mind, but it doesn't stop him from heading over. He’s just going to have a talk to clear the air, no harm in that, right?      Under the stars, he strolls towards the outdoor arena, listening to the crickets which chirp loudly in the dry grass. The two lanterns spread brightness over the otherwise dark and deserted lands, creating long shadows on the ground where the fencing blocks the rays. A horse moves steadily on a large circle, relaxed and in harmony with her rider. Y/N has not noticed Dean yet, too concentrated to pick up on the spectator. There is a peacefulness in the air that distracts him from the troubles on his mind. The coolness of the night causes Meadow to breathe out warm clouds with every third beat of the gait, leaving a misty trail behind her, like a steam train puffing out clouds rhythmically. The silhouette of horse and rider passes by the fence every time they come between the wrangler and the light is as if he’s watching an eclipse. It brings a smile to the cowboy’s face. Bobby was right; Y/N is talented.

     Slowly, he strolls up to the gate, moving into the yellow rays coming from the high masts. This time she does notice him and eyes the head wrangler, perplexed. He is the last person she expected to see here at this hour, especially since Casey couldn't wait to drag him away to do all kinds of dirty things to him.      “H - hey,” she stammers, half surprised, half confused.      “How is she doing?” he wonders while nodding at the horse, more to get the conversation going.       Suddenly self-conscious about every move she makes, Y/N sits back slightly and lets her mare transition to an easy walk, loosening the reins and petting her on the shoulder with her free hand.      “She’s good, a little fresh,” she responds. “I didn't expect you here.”      “I was on my way to the bunkhouse, saw the lights,” Dean explains casually.      The rider barely smiles at that, still unsure how to behave around him after the way she left the Saloon thirty minutes ago. An awkward silence follows and she decides to continue her training to keep busy. With a forward motion of the hand and a small aid with the legs, Meadow swiftly pushes into a lope, head down and light on the bit, as she should be. The muscles of the well-developed Quarter horse roll under her shiny coat with every stride, flexing and relaxing again. It might look like child’s play, and yet Y/N was less nervous for the Nationals last year than she is now. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, watching every move closely.       As he does, the wrangler climbs the steel fence, hooking his heels behind the middle bar and resting the palm of his hands on the top one for balance. Intrigued, he observes the training, reading into her skills. Now that she’s aware of him, her riding seems a little stiffer than it was before. Is she actually nervous now that he's here? His presumption is confirmed when she turns in the other direction halfway in a circle through a flying change. Her timing is far from perfect and the horse changes from a left to a right lope a stride too late, unable to translate the aid into an action before the perfect moment mid-stride. Despite the mistake, Y/N tussles Meadow’s manes. For a second Dean wonders if it’s because she didn't recognize the timing being off, but then she performs the exercise again, nailing it this time. Dean smiles at that, content with her method of training. Meadow did exactly what her rider inquired of her, it was the rider who inquired wrong. Where plenty would have corrected the horse or even punished it, Y/N didn't, because she was very much aware that it was a human error. After only a couple of minutes, he has a pretty good idea what kind of rider she is. Truly feeling what happens under the saddle is something most people will never get down. It’s almost like an extra sense, a skill only so many equestrians have. Y/N is one of those gifted equestrians. How she handled that communication error, is what separates horse riding from horsemanship.       Satisfied, Y/N uses her seat to bring Meadow back to an easy walk, after which Y/N lets her move around freely; the mare is done for today. Now that her horse doesn't require her full attention any more, she is forced to deal with the handsome yet overbearing spectator. Why on earth is he even here? Isn't he supposed to be getting laid right now? Oh yes, seeing him with Casey rubbed her the wrong way. She’s fully aware of that fact, and he probably is too. Should she have let him push her buttons like that? No. Was it his intention to mess her up? Probably not. Was she overreacting when she barked at him back at the Saloon? Maybe a little.       “Feel better now?” he asks out of the blue.      Y/N furrows her brow, glancing over when she rides by his spot on the fence, trying to sense in which direction he is going. “What do you mean?”      Dean shrugs, dropping his gaze to the sand for a moment. “For me, a good ride usually works as a stress reliever, and you seemed on edge earlier.”      As the rider cools down Meadow by walking her on a free rein, she considers her options carefully before she speaks. Darn, so he did notice. Then again, the sneer she fired at him was hard to miss. Denying it isn't going to do her much good, so she might as well skip past it.      “I'm fine. Who needs meditation when you spend time on the back of a horse, right?” she replies.      She wasn't keeping up an appearance, because Dean is right. Her mood did change for the better the moment she opened the stable door and was greeted by her four-legged friend. By the time she settled on her back, the whole thing seemed silly and unimportant.       “Especially on a horse like that. She’s good,” Dean compliments. “The rider could use a lesson or two…”      Y/N stares at him over her shoulder self consciously, turning Meadow around to face the cowboy. Is he serious? But when she spots the smirk on the wrangler’s face, followed by the subtle wink, she cannot help but chuckle.      “Let me guess: you should be the one teaching me,” she fills in.      “I can't think of anyone more capable,” he grins, his eyes sparkling like the stars above.      “Of course you can't,” she laughs as Meadow halts, allowing her to swing her leg over the back and smoothly lower herself until her feet reach the ground.      Glad to have gotten rid of the awkwardness, Dean gets down from the fence and opens the gate. Y/N leads the Quarter mare to the tack up area under the tree and her company follows, hitting the light switch when he passes it. The arena spots die down, leaving the only light to come from inside the barn together with the moon and galaxy above. As she takes off Meadow’s bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, she cannot help but to analyze herself. When she angrily speed-walked from the Saloon to the stable with her fists clenched in her pockets, she was calling Dean out for being a dirty scumbag with no respect for women whatsoever. But now that he’s here and apparently still takes an interest in her, a part of her is thrilled by that matter, and steadily overrules.      Y/N, you know better than this! He just wants to get in your pants! He will dispose of you like an empty coffee container when he’s done with you! She continues the inner dialogue while loosening the girth, after which she lifts the heavy saddle off Meadow’s back.      “I got it,” Dean says, taking over the twenty-five-pound load.      He holds the back of the saddle on his hip, balancing it by gripping the gullet. As if it weighs nothing at all, the wrangler heads to the tack room. Amused, Y/N watches him from under her Stetson hat, her eyes taking him in from top to bottom. Oh, you just cannot help yourself, can you? Meadow snorts impatiently and rubs her head against her shoulder. She is making herself perfectly clear; the Queen doesn't have time for this and wants to get to her hay, pronto. After a quick brush Y/N leads her to her stable and puts a rug on the horse to protect her from the cold in the early hours. Buried in thoughts, she enters the tack room where Dean is about to put the saddle away. She watches him push the saddle upon the highest rack on the wall, his strong arms working under his plaid shirt.       “Can I ask you something?” she wonders while she stores away the brushes, leg protection, and bridle.      “Shoot,” he says, as the two of them exit the room, which the head wrangler locks up.      The cowgirl hesitates, her footsteps suddenly loud and obvious when she begins to walk down the hall between the stables. “It might be a little straightforward--”      “Really? You being straightforward?” he interrupts, a smug grin on his face. “Now, that I wasn't expecting.”       She glares at the handsome cowboy, but can't suppress the smile either. The sarcasm is practically dripping off his comment and she bumps her shoulder into his.      “Watch it,” she warns. “You’re not entirely on my good side yet.”      A last glance into the quiet stable is sufficient to reassure Dean that the horses are alright until the final feeding round. He leaves the light on for his uncle and exits the barn through the large doors.      “Yeah, about that. What did I do to make you storm off?”      The two of them walk out, back to the tack up area. For a moment Y/N thinks of an answer, but nothing that she can come up with sounds reasonable. To be fair, she’s not even sure if she’s ready to admit why she got so frustrated with him. Dean is a free man, who can see whoever and do whatever he pleases. Yet when Casey put her arms around him and got intimate, she felt a prick in her heart. Her stupid, stupid heart wanted to be the one close to him, even though her smart mind is trying to keep it together and do the respectable thing.       “It was nothing, really,” she excuses, not giving him much of an explanation.       Dean glances aside, reading into the doubt in her voice. What is it, that she doesn't want to tell him? Could it be, that in that moment, she was jealous of Casey? He thinks about it for a second, as he slowly strolls to the big Joshua tree in the center of the square. He has played a lot of girls, but that sure as hell was not what he was doing here. He never intended to lure Y/N out of hiding, though her response to the situation raises a question. If watching him and another girl really bothered her that much, does that mean that she is interested in him? Confused, he bites the inside of his cheek as he halts.      “What did you want to ask me?” he wonders.      For a moment there, she was lost in her own mind, but then Y/N redirects her focus and turns around to face him. Curious, he observes the young woman as he leans against the bark of the tall Yucca tree. The sight of Mister Green Eyes wonderingly looking over, forces her to take a breath before she speaks. Stars reflect in his pupils, the moon painting their surroundings in a silver hue. It reminds her of the hills back home, covered in frost at the arrival of winter. Dean’s short hair has been tousled by the hat he took off and now holds by the brim. The up-to-no-good smile is gone, but he seems content either way. God, isn't he lovely. Annoyed with herself for thinking such things, she looks down, figuring that not being mesmerized by his gorgeous looks might help her keep it together.       “I was just wondering…” she starts insecure. “I - I mean, you and Casey… Are you two…?”     Dean frowns at the presumption. So it was about Casey.       “Together? No.” He huffs, unable to picture it. “She and some friends rent a house here for a week or two a year to blow off some steam. We’ve hooked up a couple of times whenever she comes over, but it doesn't mean anything.”      Y/N digests the information and keeps her gaze pinned on the hat in his hands. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. See? He doesn't care about Casey and he surely won't care about her either. But if he doesn't care for Casey, she doesn’t have to compete with anyone. Wait... She’s not actually considering making a move, is she? Y/N, you are under no circumstances making a move! she tells herself sternly. God, this is what schizophrenia must feel like.      Trying to distract herself from the voices in her head, she carries on with the conversation. “I'm sorry for asking. I know it’s none of my business, but I - I cannot help to wonder…”      Now she does look up, a little shocked when she realizes how close Dean is. His eyes are on her, peeling away the layers as he tries to make sense of what she’s struggling to say.      “If Casey is at the ranch, why are you here with me?”      Stunned, Dean keeps a hold of her gaze. She isn’t asking the obvious, but that is a damn good question. Casey offered herself on a silver plate back in the Saloon. Dean never experienced much trouble with the ladies, yet the brunette, in particular, couldn't wait to open her legs for the wrangler. He could have had her in his bed right now, letting her do all kinds of delightful things to him. Yet here he is, opposite of the girl that has been giving him a hard time from the get-go. The thought of Casey did nothing for him, he simply wasn’t interested in the regular ranch guest. Why is that? Brought out of balance by the question, he chuckles nervously and breaks eye contact, fiddling with the brim of his hat again. Slowly it starts to sink in. Why he would much rather be here with Y/N under the Joshua tree. Why he felt the need to protect her from Benny’s lust. Why he lost interest in any other girl. Why every wandering thought, every daydream he had in the past week, was somehow about the one person standing before him.      He looks up at her again and something within him changes. A tightness in his chest that he has never experienced before makes it difficult to swallow. It's unpleasant, scary even, but the sight of her waiting in wonder takes away the discomfort. The faint light from the night’s sky caresses her hair and smooth skin. A pair of gorgeous eyes framed with long lashes watch, traces of hesitation in them, but also curiosity. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks to himself.

     Dean fails to answer her question with words. He doesn't have to. His mouth falls open just a little as he looks deep into her eyes with an intensity she is unfamiliar with, simply because no one has ever looked at her like that before. As if only now he came to realize what is happening between the two of them.      He can tell that she understands now, because her insecurity makes way for astonishment.       “Oh…” she responds, flustered, a shy smile growing larger.      He mirrors her expression without letting go of her gaze. His pupils bounce between hers as he leans in hesitatingly. Every fiber he consists of wants to kiss the enchanting cowgirl before him and he cannot stop his eyes from flicking down at her lips for just a moment, then up again. Would she let him? What are you waiting for? Just go for it, Dean lectures himself. This isn't the first time he’s kissed a girl, however, doubt overwhelms him. What if she pulls back? What if he ruins it? Could he handle that? Before the cowboy can decide to act or not to act, she looks down and lets out a shuddering breath, the anticipation becoming too much.       “Are you cold?” he asks kindly, quickly covering up the awkwardness.      She crosses her arms in front of her chest and nods. Not only did Meadow get a workout, so did her rider. Her clammy undershirt has turned stone cold and sends goosebumps down her arms. Or is it Dean who is doing that?      “Let’s get inside. Wouldn't want you to catch something,” he suggests, not having a jacket to offer.      She agrees to that, because the warmth of the bunkhouse sounds pretty good. In silence they stroll towards the cabin, her shoulders hunched in an attempt to keep the cold at bay, as Dean walks by her side. Overcome by the rush of mixed emotions, she glances at him from under her hat. He seems to be pondering, without a doubt going over the past minute. That one moment that Dean’s reason for wanting to be around her became clear, with nothing more than a look. Holy mother, he was going to kiss you, and you glanced down? Why would you do that? What were you thinking?! She could kick herself in the head right about now. It was the responsible thing to do, to avoid things from getting complicated, to keep their relationship strictly business. But dear God, she wanted him to close that gap and press his lips on hers.       Dean walks up the porch and opens the door, after which he holds the fly curtain aside so that Y/N can pass through. As soon as she steps into the bunkhouse, peculiar sounds coming from one of the rooms draw her attention. Squeaking in a steady pace mixed with moans of both male and female, followed by a muffled ‘oh yeah’ and ‘right there’. Dean, who was about to pull the door shut, freezes mid-action when the noise reaches his hearing. Well then, this situation just went through the awkward scale. Y/N slowly turns to him, eyes wide in shock as she mouths ‘Oh my god!’ and he can't contain the quiet laughter.      “Who’s in there?” she whispers.      “My two cents: Benny and Casey,” he replies, keeping his voice down.      “Are you serious?” she returns, watching him shrug. “She lost no time, did she?”      “Like I said: it didn't mean anything,” he assures, grinning at her judgment. “Besides, you’re much better company anyway.”      Y/N can feel the heat rising to her face again. She opens her mouth to return the compliment, when the sounds from the other room intensify. Dear Lord, those two are really going at it.       Dean chuckles, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye, if I can with those rabbits next door.”      “Yeah, me too,” she says, shaking her head as she makes a mental note to dig up a set of earplugs from her suitcase.      In the doorway Y/N turns around, granting herself a last look at the man that is stealing her heart away. “Good night.”      “G’night,” Dean returns with a soft voice, keeping a hold of her gaze as well until she shuts the door.      The sounds of the couple in the other room is all that is left, a painful reminder of his loneliness. Could this evening have played out differently if he had kissed her? It probably could have. Shit, what if he wasted his only shot? For a few seconds the wrangler lingers, but then turns towards his room, where he sits down on the edge of his empty bed. Banning the noises of pleasure next door from his mind, Dean forks his fingers together as he leans his forearms on his knees. He's so confused by his own thoughts and how he’s responding to them, that he doesn't seem to know himself anymore. For some reason his conscience is telling him not to rush this, to take it one step at a time. What if for once in his life, this could grow into something more than just a fling?      At the same time, another voice raises awareness for the mixed signals she’s been giving, because she hasn’t exactly sent him a private invitation. And even if she does go along with it for a little while, what happens when she truly gets to know him? What happens when she learns about his tainted past, the family drama, his flaws and missteps? What happens when she sees him for who he truly is, under the mask and the pile of bullshit? The only reason why he can live with himself is because he swept the dirt under the carpet a long time ago and keeps pretending it's not there. When she knows, she will leave, he’s sure of it, and the thought of that alone scares him already. But it’s his heart that shouts the loudest, practically begging to throw himself at her. His heart which was rooting for that kiss. His heart which finally seems to have found what it had been silently waiting for.       Pondering, Dean rubs his face and glances at the desk clock on his nightstand, which shows the time at 10.47 PM. Next to it, a picture stares back, portraying his Mom with her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her four-year-old son against her chest lovingly. Like he has so many times over the years, he wishes she was still alive. Right about now, this lost wanderer could use someone to point him in the right direction.

The pining! They were so close! Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

[peacefulrevivalteen]

The Pop Plan

Cooking bonus Event for Round 2! @taiyuu-high-oct @snoopdoggkun @fentonblububelli @shimo-content

         Ever since they returned from their second round of battles Ozen has in her free time tirelessly searched of ways to try and repay Popi or at least show her appreciation for saving her round for her.

         Ozen has always preferred personal gifts, the sentimental person that she is, to her it’s telling the other person “Hey look! I appreciate you enough to make you something!” She even still has the balloon animal Popi made her, back at her house.

         So now she finds herself looking over the list she has made of what Popi likes and starts to go down the list to find something feasible.

         “She really likes fashion.. so that’s immediately out, already made her a balloon animal for her birthday.. Cursed dolls, mhm yeah nope, rat toys seem to be useless if they are free range rats so that’s also out.” She spends the next half hour like this, “no” after “no” after “no”, she’s honestly losing hope when her eyes finally land on it.. Cake Pops

         While it may seem easy enough, Ozen has to get around Her. Who is she? The biggest thorn in her side that existed months before school even started, the head of support Sherif.

         They first got to know each other after Ozen got her acceptance letter to the school, proceeding to eagerly put in her request for her hero outfit. The weeks leading up to the start of school saw constant arguments over email. Ozen’s current outfit a mere shadow of what she had planned, whether it be “grotesquely expensive to make a suit out of platinum”, “unfeasible to secure that much depleted uranium we aren’t the military,” or any of the other excuses Sherif liked to throw around, it was safe to say they were not on good terms.

         This tumultuous relationship is what Ozen suspects to be the reason that the western themed hero accepted Ozen’s parent’s silly request of BANNING their daughter from any heat oriented cooking appliances.

Her mom’s still have not gotten over the incident a couple years ago. So what she took the cookie tray out of the oven with her bare hands, severely scalding them and requiring a visit to the hospital. We all make mistakes.

         Sherif made the conscious decision to rig up such an elaborate protection system simply to keep Ozen away from the damn stove. Whenever she gets too close, those blasted light disks of Sherif’s block her way. She once pushed her luck and managed to get closer just for a special alarm to go off that resulted in multiple disk lights blocking her in. She only got out after Sherif sauntered her smirking self over and released her.

         This is for Popi, her best friend so she has to try her best to succeed. If this was a couple weeks earlier she would have no clue about going about such a task, but a certain transfer student with an electricity quirk and a penchant for setting off fire alarms recently changed that, giving her the opening she needs.

         Ozen found out, after one of the increasingly common quirk discharge and subsequent fire alarm that the system that runs those solid light disks reminiscent of Sherif’s own quirk, shuts down. This is understandable of course, they wouldn’t want Ozen to be stuck inside with no way out during a fire. Also after timing a couple she found that after the fire alarm is finally shut off through staff intervention there is a thirty minute period when the system reboots and recalibrates.

         Ozen doesn’t want to get in trouble for purposely triggering a fire alarm so she opts instead to catch the next instance of the dorm fire alarm being “Zeke’d” All she can do is prepare at this point, physically practicing the steps, committing them to muscle memory.

         Ozen’s time to shine came not even a week later, up in her room doing homework the fire alarm blares, aggravated residents call out Zeke’s name in exasperation, but not Ozen, because she has some damn friendship pops to make.

         She can’t waste any time, there is only a little extra time for everything, if she was right next to the kitchen, but she’s in her room. Ozen swings her window open and launches herself out of it with purpose, landing totally unharmed with a “whump” in front of the dorm entrance.

         She rushes inside catching sight of a very aggravated gargoyle “Where is he! Where the hell is Zeke!?” She calls out. Sensitive hearing must suck for this, but one gargoyle’s plight, is another best friend’s cake pop.

         Rushing to the fridge, Ozen starts quickly grabbing the supplies she has stocked up for a day such as this, placing them on the central kitchen island.  Just to make sure she isn’t wasting her time Ozen slides a foot cautiously towards the stove and… no light, good, just as expected.

         Ozen starts by preheating the Oven to a nice 350 Fahrenheit before heading back to the island. She proceeded to pour her ingredients into the bowl, placing the new mixture into an electric mixer, adjusting the speeds accordingly.

         Once finely mixed she starts pouring the batter, just in time too, the oven beeps itself in glorious recognition of its pre heated state, just as the fire alarm winds down and shuts off. Only thirty more minutes, Ozen will be cutting it close but she continues unperturbed.          She manages to get the dish in the oven not soon after, which leads to the most dangerous part, Waiting. This is the most important step, she believes she managed to get it in, in time to have it fully cooked before the system comes online.

         She’s right, and around 25 minutes later her toothpicks start coming back clean meaning she won’t be cutting it close at all, she just has to chill them in the refrigerator after the crumbling for 30 minutes, roll them into balls, stick them lollipops and dip them in.. chocolate… Melted chocolate she was so focused on being banned from the stove she forgot she’s banned from ALL heat related kitchen appliances, including the microwave.

         Ozen begins to internally panic, the chilling is going to take way too long, what is she going to do? She frantically looks around catching the attention of a couple of students who find it odd she has been so fast paced today.

         Ozen’s gaze finally lands on one student in particular, one always clad in their iconic jacket no matter the weather. The student with a frost quirk, Hiyasu Shimokizu.

         Her back is turned and it seemed she was talking to… Them of course it had to be Tokachi and Gakusa. She takes in deep breath and reminds herself she is doing this for her best friend.

         She runs with vigor over to them, the bunny girl raising her brow as Ozen makes her way closer.

         “Um, can we help you Ozzie-chan?” the small girl asks

         Ozen doesn’t stop to chat, instead choosing to pick up Shimo under her arms, surprising the poor girl who only let out a surprised “Waa?!”

         “I must borrow her really quick, no time for conflict” Ozen lets out rapidly turning back towards the kitchen, the students in the common area stop what they are doing as they watch the stoic Ozen run off with Shimo like some old arcade villain, her surprised yelps traveling with her all the way up to Ozen plopping her down in the kitchen.

         The absolutely flushed Shimo turns to look at Ozen, only managing a look of confusion as she catches her breath.

         “Shimokizu-san I need your help, can you recreate what you did the other day with those popsicles, to these?” she says, motioning to the bowl of proto cake pop.

         Still without words Shimo just nods and shoos Ozen out of the kitchen, and once making sure it’s safe, begins to cool the bowl down, Ozen watching on in muted interest as the area immediately around Shimo takes on a frosty appearance.

         Once finished Shimo walks over and hands the chilled bowl to Ozen, flushing at the thank you Ozen provides in return, heading back to her original group while Ozen rushes over to the island to begin rolling.

         Ozen manages to fully roll all 18 cake pops, albeit some lumpier than others, proceeds to quickly toss the bowl of chocolate into the microwave for a set 20 seconds. As the hum of the microwave churns she turns her attention upwards to the main array, the system that controls the physical light disks starting to glow.

         Shit, I’m out of time Ozen thinks to herself, the microwave beeps behind her and she doesn’t have any time left, she can’t leave it to cool so she just grabs the bowl with both hands to take it out, the sizzling emanating from her hands tells her she probably shouldn’t be doing this but she ignores it as she sets the bowl safely down on the table.

         She did it! Ozen managed to make her cake pops! She gives herself a little mental pat on the back before going in to start the dipping, it’s at that moment she notices the pink on her hands. Turning them over for inspection she finds that… she burned her hands.

          “Well fuck” she curses to herself, beginning to notice how silent the room got.

         Looking up for the source of silence she finds her fellow students collectively staring at the same spot, Ozen turns to find what it could be the cause and once she does understands perfectly as she catches sight Sherif standing in the entryway, a deep glower directed straight at her.

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

         “That’s funny” her best friend remarks, swinging her legs on the bench as she munches on homemade cake pops

         “Yeah, my moms are furious with me” Ozen replies, looking over her newly bandaged hands.

         They sat like that for a while, just listening to the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore, the sunset slowly sinking into the horizon. It was peaceful, Ozen cherished moments like these.

         Popi is the first one to break the silence.

         “These taste terrible” she states, continuing to gaze at the ocean, munching never slowing down

         Ozen just stares at her friend, the whole situation and awkwardness of the day starts to get at her and she bursts out into a fit of laughter.

         Managing to calm herself down, Ozen returns her gaze to the darkening Ocean. “Yeah, I’m a terrible baker” she lets out with a smile.

         Another couple of minutes pass by before Ozen reaches down into her bag. “I picked up some pops from the bakery after getting out of the clinic, want these instead?”

         “Oh god yes” Popi responds immediately, tossing the homemade pop into the trash.

         The sun is now fully gone but they stay a little while longer, enjoying the calmness of the ocean.

         Popi eventually plops her head to the side, leaning on Ozen. “Thank you” she lets out.

         Ozen responds in kind, plopping her head to the side too, coming to rest atop Popi’s head. “Of course, what are friends for?”

[reylo-trash-4ever]

HELLO REYLO FAM!!!

Wow... I am incredibly nervous about posting this because I haven’t shared my writing in years, but the incredible @lana-n95 gave me the idea when I made my prompts post, and I just rolled with it and made it an entire fic. SO HERE YA GO! 

Shout out to @scav-eng-er for being my Reylo Soul Mate and literally giving me the courage to do this!! I couldn’t ask for a better support group in @mojona1999 and @firethebluesky as well! You lovely people are who keep me going and I promise I’m working on getting us all a group chat so we can be friends for life.

This will be updated fairly regularly, but please do not expect a lot yet. I’m working towards bi-weekly, but for right now, this is all I have. I hope you enjoy! EEK!!

“The Game” - a Reylo AU

Universe: AU/Modern day New York

Rating: M (this chapter only has some mild language and sexual themes)

Word Count: 3629

Pairing: Rey and Ben Solo

PART ONE:

The New York winds were especially biting that December morning as Rey made her way through the bustling streets of the city. She wove in and out of passersby as everyone went about their day, each individual having separate lives, separate troubles, and separate dreams.

Rey had quite a few dreams of her own, but they were sometimes hard to make into reality. She had worked her ass off to get to where she was today, though. It was a great and classic story; a ‘nobody’ girl who came from the rural countryside making it big in the city. She’d always been passionate about helping people and doing what she could for the underdog, probably because she had felt like one all her life. Nobody thought she could do it, but she graduated at the top of her class in almost every subject, excelled in sports, and even dabbled in the theatrical arts when she had time. Her determination and hard work didn’t leave room for many friendships, but she didn’t mind putting all of that behind her when she moved to the city to study law.

College was good to her. She finally met some people she would call lifelong friends. She studied hard, and she learned harder. She was still kind of a ‘loner’ at heart, never really being the person to be seen out at parties, bars, or clubs. Every once in awhile she let herself go crazy, but it was rare. So much so that her friends started calling her “The Black Cat” because it was such a shock, and slightly unnerving, whenever she actually showed up to events. She knew the superstitions and implications surrounding a black cat, and she easily could have taken offense at the nickname, but Rey secretly liked it. Let her be known for her sly, hard work and mystery, not how well liked and popular she was or wasn’t.

It was this mentality that ultimately landed her a job as an intern at Skywalker and Associates straight out of college. It was a miracle from the stars that she got accepted into one of the top law firms in the state so soon after graduating. She didn’t really believe in a “higher power”, but something up there in the infinite galaxies must have been on her side. She knew she was good, and had the potential to be the best, but she had never before had the resources due to her upbringing. The opportunity was something she would never be ungrateful for.

It had been almost eight months since she started interning, and already she was making her way up in the company. Her dedication to cases and her keen eye for detail had gained her the attention of some of the more prominent names in the office and she hoped it was enough to be the next Jr. Partner.

Rey pulled off the street to step into a small coffee shop. A little bell chimed as she pushed open the door and the wondrous smells filled her nose as she took a deep breath in. The warmth filled her body and was almost a shock coming from such a drastic difference only seconds before, but she welcomed the comfort.

She stepped in line and perused the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. It was the same thing she always got - a french press, dark roast with just a little bit of half and half - as she was a woman of pattern and repetition. Getting the same thing day in and day out had never bothered her. It was safe, it was what she knew. Why risk something that would rock the boat? Even though she didn’t normally believe in “luck”, she didn’t want to risk it today. This was her chance to finally start doing real cases and to work on projects that would make a difference.

“Would you like to round up your order and donate to the Children’s Hospital for the holidays?”

The barista’s voice took her out of her own head after she had apparently told them her order without thinking. Rey smiled and nodded her head quickly in response. She felt in a ‘giving mood’ that morning. Send as much “good karma” out into the universe as she could.

“Thank you so much, and have a nice day!”

The words faded into the hustle and bustle of the crowd as Rey stepped away and waited for her drink. She dug her phone out of her pocket and soon got lost in social media, scrolling mindlessly. Friends and distant family passed her screen, seeming to all be living happy and comfortable lives with their loved ones.

Rey had always wished for that kind of security and ‘home’. It was one of the reasons she worked as hard as she did, so she could hopefully someday give that life to herself. The one she never had, but always wanted. Her mother passed away when she was in grade school and her father left before she was even born. Being an only child, her uncle had offered to take her in, but he was a bachelor with a demanding job and very little time for another human being besides himself. He wasn’t the worst person in the world and they got along well enough, he was just never really much of a ‘parental figure’. She learned early on that she would have to find her own place in the world, and her fierce determination was set from that moment on.

She didn’t know why this was the morning of reminiscing, but something about the possibility of change must have had her brain in that mode. Rey brushed off the weirdness as she got up out of her seat after hearing her name being called. She made her way through the crowded cafe and grabbed her coffee.

She turned to leave, thanking the employee behind the counter again over her shoulder, when suddenly, she was almost knocked off her feet by an incoming stranger. She caught herself and her coffee, thankful for the lid stuck solidly to the cup, and turned around with a glare.

A tall man with broad shoulders and dark, shoulder length hair had been the culprit. His tall frame towered over her, but he seemed intent on barely even acknowledging her in his attempt to rush past. She caught his attention though, and he turned to look back at her over his shoulder. Rey, astounded by the audacity of the stranger, continued to glare and silently dared him to apologize for the discrepancy.

The man simply blinked at her for the briefest of moments, a glint in his dark eyes as they gazed back at her with an air of pride and so little remorse that it sent a shiver down her spine. Then, without a word, he continued on his way as if he had never hit her at all.

Rey scoffed angrily and whipped around on her heels as quickly as she could to get out of the coffee shop, now with a sour taste in her mouth. Some people are just assholes, she concluded as she once again walked out the door. A gust of blistering cold air hit her face and she closed her eyes. She tightened her scarf around her neck and pulled it up so that it was covering her nose, trying to shelter as much of her face as she could. God, she hated the cold...

***

It was as busy as always at the office. Rey quickly got lost in her work, and she didn’t realize how much time had passed before she heard her co-worker, Rose, calling her name.

“Do you ever take a break?”

The short cropped, black haired girl crossed her arms over the top of Rey’s desktop computer, forcing her to break from her work. She couldn’t help but smile when looking up into her ever cheerful, grinning face.

“I don’t have time for a break,” Rey said, trying to see past the distraction.

“I admire your dedication,” Rose stood on her tiptoes to lean over and look at Rey’s computer upside down. She was one of Rey’s favorite coworkers. Unlike the other women, she didn’t sit around the office and gossip all day, but had just about as much dedication to her job as Rey did. Well, almost as much.

“Did you hear about Rex and Ava?”

“Oh my God, no! Did they hook up?”

The chatter of the women standing behind them was too much for Rey. The office was notorious for rumors, especially of the romantic kind. Apparently, the people who worked there were infatuated with who was dating who, who had an affair with who, and who slept with who. Personally, Rey wanted nothing to do with it and couldn’t care less about the love lives of her coworkers. Unless it was Rose, but one of the things Rey liked about her was that she was pretty private and kept her personal life separate from her work life.

“I heard they got lunch yesterday and-”

“That’s crazy! I thought she was seeing that Lando guy from Brooklyn-”

“Look,” Rose said, “you eventually have to take a break. You know that, right? It’s bad for your mental health to be so busy all the time. And it’s kind of required by law.”

Rey smiled at her friend. “I know,” she said, placing her palm on Rose’s head and softly pushed it back so that she had to move off of her computer, “and thank you for caring, but I’m alright.”

“You would let me know if you weren’t, right?”

“I heard that the CEO’s son was going to start here in the new year.”

“No way! That arrogant jerk wants nothing to do with his father’s company. And he’s supposedly a real ‘ladies man’.”

“But I heard he’s super attractive and has that ‘rich bad boy’ vibe. Wouldn’t that be so hot?”

“Well, I have to admit, that would be a welcome change around here.”

Rey tried to drown out the distractions of the noises and she managed to plaster another reassuring smile on her face. “Of course I would.”

“It’s a long shot, but we’re all getting drinks at Naboo’s, that new cocktail bar down the street, if you’d like to join us?” Rose asked, motioning to a few of the other women who were all filing behind her and collecting their coats and respective purses. Her dark eyes begged Rey to come along, and she hated to disappoint, but she knew she didn’t want to go.

“I wish I could,” Rey said with a hint of genuine sadness in her voice, “but I just have so much work to do. I was planning on staying a little late tonight anyway.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” Rose chuckled with a shrug. She turned to leave and gave Rey a little wave over her shoulder.

“Have fun without me,” Rey called after her as she walked away, grabbing her own coat as she passed by the coat rack.

“Would be more fun with you,” Rose teased. There was a small ding and the now collective group of men and women who were leaving for the day clamored into the elevator.

Rey watched as the doors slid shut and just like that, it was silent in the office. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and sighed with relief. It was always nice when she could be here by herself. She found that she got more work done with less distractions. She wouldn’t be there that late anyway and her bosses didn’t mind as long as it helped further the business. Some of them were still working in their own offices, so she wasn’t completely alone.

She grabbed her laptop to take to the conference room and finish some paperwork on a particularly difficult case. Although, she quickly discovered that maybe not taking a single break that day, even to eat, was probably an issue. Her stomach growled and at first she tried to ignore it, but when her hunger headache began, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for too much longer.

With a long sigh, Rey stood and made her way to the break room. Taking a peek through the floor to ceiling windows, she could see the city all lit up for the evening. There was something special about New York at night, but especially around the holidays. People had candles in their windows and hung colorful lights on balconies and railings and really wherever they could find space. She loved upstate, and not just because of the expensive look of her surroundings and the other rich things it had to offer, but because the city really did look stunning at night. Like a million, twinkling stars, but unlike the unreachable night sky above, if you reached out to touch them, they were almost in your grasp.

***

After making a quick protein filled smoothie, Rey went back to the empty room to finish her work. Only, when she got there, she discovered that she was not alone.

A man lounged in her chair, his back towards her. Without even seeing him standing, she could tell how tall he was just by how far his legs extended out from under him. He was sitting with his feet propped up on another chair close to him, one leg crossed over the other, and he was staring at her open laptop. The light from the screen illuminated his frame and she couldn’t see past his thick shoulders and broad upper torso. Something about him was so familiar to her, but she didn’t care enough to think too deeply on it as her focus was more caught on how he was snooping in on her personal case.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She said sharply, expecting to see him jump in surprise at being caught, but he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, she heard a calm, deep voice come from the opposite side of his large body.

“I’m reading.”

The response was simple, but the tone of it made her feel like she was the stupid one for even having asked the question in the first place.

“That’s my laptop,” she said plainly, taken off guard and not knowing how else to react.

“Is it? That’s interesting,” the man sounded bored and Rey thought for a second that he didn’t even seem to be listening to her at all.

“I’m sorry, but can I have my seat back? I was working on an important case.” Rey took a few defiant steps closer, trying to be as brave as she could. Something about this man unnerved her and she was suddenly very aware that she was alone with a stranger in an almost completely empty and dark room.

“I can see that,” he said, reaching a hand up to his face and rubbing his chin, “you’ve missed something important in your report though.” He still didn’t turn to her, but his other hand appeared beside him and he wiggled two fingers, motioning for her to come over to him. Rey felt her face heat with anger and embarrassment. How dare this strange man try to correct her on her case. Who did he think he was, anyway?!

Against her better judgement, Rey couldn’t suppress her pride and she realized she had to know what he was talking about. She’d looked over this case for almost an entire week now, and she was sure there was no way she could have missed a thing. It was a pretty cut and dry case, anyway. A man cheated on his fiance and she was suing him, hoping to make him pay for all the money her and her family had already spent on the upcoming wedding.

“What are you talking about?” Rey asked bluntly as she stepped over to the man. She leaned over his shoulder and squinted her eyes in the laptop light, trying to find the discrepancy she was sure was nowhere to be found.

“Right here,” the man’s deep voice was directly in her ear and she could feel his hot breath on her neck, instantly sending shivers down her spine, “the report says that your client’s ex-fiance cheated on her with another woman. That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not, the evidence proved that he was seeing another woman while they were together, and one of the witnesses all but admitted to being his mistress. It’s a cut and dry case.”

“Except that he wasn’t seeing another woman. He was seeing three.”

“Excuse me?!” The accusation was so outrageous that Rey had to turn and give the man the most incredulous look, and when their eyes met, she suddenly remembered where she had seen him before. The scene from that morning in the coffee shop played in her mind like a rerun of a bad TV show. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stared back at her with a wry smile on his lips.

“The sample of hair they found on his suit coat the night of the supposed affair is blonde. The color of your witnesses hair is a muted brunette,” he began to explain his reasonings, never breaking eye contact with Rey while she stared dumbfoundedly back at him.

“That’s only two women. You said there were three.” She stood up straight and looked down on the dark haired man who leaned back further into his seat to keep her gaze. She knew her response was weak, suddenly doubting everything she thought she knew about this case and hating herself for missing something so obvious as that. But she was still determined not to let this stranger get the better of her.

The man’s smile faded and he moved from his seat, slowly getting up. It seemed to take him an impossibly long time to rise, but when he stretched to his full height, he towered at least a good foot above her. He looked down at her with little interest in his eyes, as if he had just gotten bored of their conversation and was bothered by her presence.

Suddenly, he was leaning in towards her and Rey’s hand instinctively grabbed the pepper spray she carried in her jacket, but the man reached past her and pulled over a plastic baggy full of evidence. Rey’s breathing was heavy with a mixture of fury and fear as he grabbed the bag and pulled it towards him.

“The perfume found in his car is an original vintage bottle of Versace made in 1983. There are only a few of these rare finds left and their price runs around one thousand dollars a pop. Judging from the size of the pocket books on both of the ladies he was seeing, neither of them could afford such a luxury. Which of course suggests that he had another, more prominent and wealthy woman on his hands.”

Rey swallowed hard and tried to keep her expression as blank as she could, but he was making too much and too little sense at the same time, and her head was spinning with confusion. Who did this arrogant bastard think he was to come in here and completely destroy her work like this?

“Not to mention, I happen to know the lovely lady who owns this particular bottle,” his fingers traced the side of the bag and he looked at it with such a perverse smile that it made Rey’s stomach turn, “She can be very… persuasive when she wants something. Her father, who owns a tenth of the real estate in upper Manhattan, will do everything he can to fight the scandal. Which means new, expensive lawyers on the defendants side and probably a lot of shaddy underground work to get him out scotch free. I have a feeling your client isn’t going to get the money, if anything, as easily as she thought.”

The silence that followed was excruciating. Rey was shocked by the revelation and the ridiculous outcome of this case she had been working her life away on. There was no way that they could have hidden this from her, was there? Her mind raced with all the possibilities that this could mean and she scrambled to find a way, any way, to turn this back in her client's favor. Could she beg for a settlement and at least get some money to the poor, mistreated woman? Or maybe she could convince the judge that this was a gross misuse of trust and blame emotional manipulation? There had to be something, anything...

“Or,” the low drawl of the man’s voice as he drew out the word snapped Rey out of her spiral. His black eyes glittered once again with something she couldn’t place and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a cocky smile as he wiggled the evidence in his hand, “this could just be a regular old department store perfume bottle and I was simply fucking with you.”

Another silence filled the room and Rey found she couldn’t breathe again. What… the… hell had he just said?

“I-I’m sorry, what?” She hissed her question and the smile on the man’s face grew wider.

“That was fun, sweetheart,” his condescending words made Rey’s blood boil, “let’s do this again sometime. When I need comic relief in this shithole of a job, I’ll look for you.” He stretched his arms behind his neck and sauntered around her, making his way out of the room. He stopped in the doorway and turned over his shoulder to give her a taunting wink.

“See you around.”

*to be continued*

[heythrrdelilah]

Lights, Camera, Love (Tom Holland x Reader) part 2

A/N: I miss writing so much! My classes have been crazy, my Navy stuff has been crazy and i have a podcast now. (it’s on anywhere you listen to podcasts, spotify, apple, google find the link on the name: Potterworld: A Harry Potter reread podcast)  So, you can imagine why i’ve been gone. I plan on finishing out the final ship request. this weekend.  I hope you like part 2, hopefully next chapter will be more progressed and have a moodboard. Also, In my asks, i was told people don’t like my Tom stuff and would rather have me stick to Supernatural? I also plan on Harry Potter stuff so lmk what you think! 

Word Count: 2,410

Warnings: Fluff, talk of eating disorder, cheesy romantic crap (shrek...? no?) Endgame talk 

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader

 “Pasta sounds nice. Sounds like a deal,” You smiled up at him before walking back to your seat once your mug was filled. “Black coffee?” Toms voice gently came to the seat next to you. You nod simply. “Bold. I’ll have to keep that in mind,” His voice trailed off with the sound of the directors and other actors coming in. Everyone said their hello’s and You were introduced to your fellow castmates. “So, I would just like to welcome everyone to the cast who wasn’t in before,” The heavyset man nodded towards you. The director began to do the introductions and table readings were to begin. Your scene was coming up soon, after an hour of anxious waiting. Your heart was beating fast and the fact that you were sitting in a room full of experienced, Big-Screen actors began setting into your mind. Your palms began shaking as you flipped the pages. You were nowhere near this nervous when you went in for your audition, but now there were five times as many eyes on you. Counting on you. Your breathing sped up as you spotted Gwen’s name at the bottom of the page. You were coming soon. 

“Damn!” Tom shouted in the seat next to you, he had spilled his coffee all over the floor and the ankle of his jeans. The whole room stopped and began to call Clara who had stepped out for some lunch. “Agh, I got some on your white sneakers. Lets go clean off,” Tom stood up quickly, grabbing ahold of your wrist, not letting you argue. When you got out of the room and the door closed behind you two, you spoke quickly, “It’s okay. It can come out. Plus, It’s just shoes.” He shook his head, dropping your wrist. “Forget the coffee. It was just an excuse to get you a minute to relax. I understand the nerves. Even though i’ve been on film prior to Avengers, I was extremely nervous my first table read. Read as if you were in your bedroom. Everyone will love you. You got the role, now breath, then rock their socks off,” Tom spoke calmly, looking at you intensely. How did he know you were self imploding? Were you shaking your leg too aggressively? Breathing too deeply? You wondered for a quick moment if the other actors had noticed as well, before tom responded, “I know the signs of a panic attack when I see one. So, lets do this together?” You nodded and took three breaths before going back into the room. Everyone was chatting while waiting. 

The table read began once more, when it came to your line, you looked at the gentleman, who was an absolute sweetheart so far, next to you. He nodded giving you a thumbs up and you read your lines as if you were practicing in your room. You made a mental note to thank Tom later for the advice. 

The table read went smooth, so smooth that everyone ended with chatting about plans afterwards. “So, looks like you owe us a hangout,” Tom smiled at you, placing his script into the muffin basket he had opened. You nodded, picking your basket up from the floor. “Thanks for the advice. I don’t know if I would have survived without it,” You stood up to face him. He smiled down at you, “No need to thank me. We all went through it. Besides,” He paused to smirk at you, “You were really good. Spider-gwen will be my favorite character if you keep that work up.” you rolled your eyes at him. Characters are whats written. Your acting is sub-par, at least to you, so there will be no way he could say you’re his favorite actor. You decided to change the subject, “Well, I find it interesting they even added her as an avenger. I guess after into the Spider-Verse, with Spider-Gwen becoming a trend, they wanted what will sell the most tickets. Follow the trends.” You giggled, looking up at him. “I can tell you one thousand percent, that what you just said… is a fact. Heard the PR team talking to the writers about it last press conference. Just like that Birds Of Prey was only made because of the insane amount of hype Harley Quinn received,” He answered becoming deep into the conversation. He seemed like he thinks about this kind of stuff himself. Before you could say anything in response, your felt a hand land firmly on your shoulder, and saw one on Tom’s. You turned to see Chris smiling down at you both. “I want pasta. Who’s joining?” He chimed, rubbing his stomach. “Didn’t you have 4 whole sub sandwiches at lunch?” Tom asked, looking horrified. “You should know by now, after so many times together, I eat. Let's get moving, " He chuckled,  his tone low. Tom shrugged at you, grabbing his basket and reached for yours. You shook your head and quickly took ahold of it, “I got it thanks. So, can I get the address?” Tom looked as though a lightbulb went off in his head. He shook his head, taking his phone out, “Give me your number and I’ll add you to our group chat!” You took ahold of his phone, Chris holding your basket long enough for you to enter your phone number into Tom's phone and hand it back. 

You felt your phone buzz, notifying you of the group chat. “I can actually ride in your car if you’d like to show you where our usual pasta place is. That is where we are going correct?” Tom turned to Chris, who was returning your basket. Chris nodded, smiling down at Tom cheekily. Tom flashed a glare at Chris and waited for your response. “Well, I do not drive a fancy car. Plus, wouldn’t you be leaving your car?” He shook his head at you to inform that he had a car here in the US, but he rarely drove it to work. He arrived with Chris. “Well my car is available to whoever needs it,” You awkwardly offer, moving towards the door. The two men followed you out the door. 

You all engaged in small talk on the way to your parking spot. Chris held your door open for you, allowing you to step in and roll your window down. Tom placed his basket in the small backseat, and got into the passenger seat. “See you lads there,” Chris waved through your window, allowing you to back out of the parking spot. “You can pick the music,” You stated, placing your car in drive and turning the knob on the radio to the bluetooth setting. He shook his head and clicked the knob, turning the radio off. “We are castmates and we will be spending months, to a year together. I think it’s only appropriate we learn a bit about each other,” He smiled, turning in his seat so that he was facing you, half of his back leaning against the door. You felt a flutter in your stomach. It felt like your life was a dream. You were cast in an avengers movie, driving to a cast dinner, and Tom Holland was in the passenger seat of your Camaro, asking to know you. 

“Well, I am 20, I am a nurse, well, I guess prior now that I am aware of the full-time. I have always dreamed of acting, I also had no idea I had a lead role. I was told I was here for Mikayla. That is what i had auditioned for,” You spoke, following the directions Tom had pulled up on his phone. His eyes widened, “wow, that is extremely uncool that they didn’t tell you. Did your agent know?”  You shook your head at him, “I do not have an agent.”  His mouth opened wide, “You don’t have an agent? I’ll get in contact with someone if you’d like. You’ll need one. Also, you won’t even need your nursing job after this. This is going to sound cocky, but once you star in a big screen film… it’s not hard to get another,” He explained. He was right. You thought about how many times you’ve seen the same celebrities bounce around to different films. It was rare you see new faces on the movie screen unless it was an Indie type of film. The truth was, you would probably have to resign from the hospital for this movie alone. It was good to have a sort of job security in that chance that this will be your only film. You made a mental note to talk to your boss on your way home. “Tell me more about you,” He spoke, breaking the silence, “Other than the fact you’re a raging transformers fan.” Your eyes widened and you gasped. “Was it really that obvious?” You retorted, pulling into the entryway of the restaurant. 

He stepped out of the car, waiting for you to do the same and meet him by the front of your car. “Well, bumblebee themed car, bumblebee keychain hanging from your keys, your phone screen is an aesthetic with an old bug in the fashion of a bumblebee. I would say, yes.Pretty obvious,” He confessed, eyeing you with a smirk. “Well, since you’re making fun of me, I may not let bee give you a ride home,” You walked over to the door of the restaurant and held it open for him. “Well, that is a bit backwards isn’t it?” Mark Ruffalo laughed, walking in behind you all. You let out a slight laugh and responded with a simple, “ladies first, am i right?” This caused Tom to raise his hands in defense, making the whole cast laugh. 

“The usual table?” The hostess smiled, counting the group, grabbing the menus. Chris winked at the short, copper-haired girl, “Only if it’s available.” Walking to the table in the far back of the restaurant, you could hear gasps coming from nearly every table. This made sense to you, considering they were big time movie stars walking through an everyday restaurant. The table was a giant circular booth that everyone could fit around. The lights were dim and the sound was low. Tom and Chris both let you scoot in between them. After the hostess waitress passed the menus around and got drink orders she left. “Come here often?” you ask everyone, remembering the waitress and Chris’s conversation. He pushed his blonde hair back and winked, “We love pasta.” The lack of women around the table became well known when the waitress came back and asked for everyone's drink order. The men were rattling off beer types and you heard not a single woman's voice. You ordered water and then looked down at your menu. Come to think of it, you were the only woman actor in the room for the table read. You had previously watched the Avengers Endgame movie and noticed they killed off black widow. “Do the women not come out?” You whispered to Tom behind your menu. “Well, there isn’t many left. Brie Larson will show up, however, today’s scenes did not include captain marvel so she doesn’t need to come,” He explained flagging down the waitress at the same time.

This made a lot of sense and you hoped that Tom hasn’t become annoyed with your questions. You were sure to have more because this was your first film. 

As the waitress made her way back, all of the men sitting around the table ordered their variety of different dishes. When she made it to you, you decided to go with shrimp and broccoli fettuccine alfredo. “That is a big dish, by the way. They give you a lot of food here, It’s why we like it,” Chris nudged you, chuckling. You rolled your eyes, “I eat for five. So, we will see.” Tom smirked and ordered his food as the last person at the table. He ordered the same. “Lets see who can finish more then?” Tom challenged, “Most women are frightened of carbs or go on extreme diets. Some eat and cry later while exercising daily. Which are you?” You laughed at the assumption. Tom was forgetting one thing, metabolism. “Listen sweety,” You lifted a brow at him. The whole table made loud oo’s and ah’s followed by laughing. Tom smirked at you, chuckling slightly. You continued, now smiling wide, “I have a fast metabolism. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t care about how I look enough to be too worried.” This was only partially true. You had struggled before with eating disorders, but as part of recovery you had to have this mindset. So far, you are a few months in and doing great. 

“So, are you from Atlanta?” Anthony Mackie asked once the food came around.  You shook your head, “I’m from (your home state/town). How about you guys?” Tom shook his head and threw a breadstick gently, at your face, “no time for that!” He picked up his fork. You hadn’t realized it would be a full on race. “Alright start placing bets,” said Cumberbatch, finishing his beer. Chris placed a 20 on the table, “I’ll go with the girl. Seems promising.” The cycle of bets began. Soon enough, the table made sound effects to mark the start. You began shoveling the absolutely delicous food into your mouth. Anything and everything lady-like went out the door. You tried savoring the flavor with every bite, but from your view, Tom was chewing quickly. You picked up your speed. 

“The lady wins!” Shouts Anthony, splitting the money between everyone who bet on you. Tom wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “I have underestimated you.” You smiled and looked to the floor. You became seemingly embarrassed of how unlady-like that was. “A woman who can keep up. I like that,” Tom removed his arm from your shoulders, letting his hand fall to the middle of your back. You felt your heart flutter momentarily. Why did this make you nervous? Even though his hand was only there for a fraction of a second, it felt like hours in your mind. You knew so far, Tom was gentle, sweet, funny, and competitive. You were developing a crush on him with every moment and you were determined to not let that happen. This was business. He was just being friendly because you will have to spend so much time together.

Lights,  camera, love tag list 

@theetherealbloom

@eridanuswave

@coni-martina

[geewithluv]

◁ Thursday in April▷

Ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Jung Hoseok X Fem!Reader

Ｇｅｎｒｅ：angst with a happy ending

Ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ：miscarriage and sadness associated with it.

Ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG-13

Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ：2.1k

It was just past one in the morning on a Thursday in April when the sunny persona Hoseok had been known for vanished. It was so far gone that anyone who had never met Hoseok would’ve thought he was always so cold. He had spent so long reading every pregnancy and parenting book he could get and keeping in mind the fact that after the first 12 weeks, the risk of miscarriage goes down significantly. So why at 16 weeks was he no longer a dad-to-be?

Why had life decided to be so cruel to him after being so giving? Maybe it was some form of balance. If he was allowed to live a dream life touring the world with his 6 best friends – his found family – and making people everywhere so happy then he couldn’t also have a happy family of his own. He would trade everything BTS gave him if it meant he didn’t have to sit in a hospital room watching his wife get an ultrasound and the room fill with silence. Fill with the absence of a heartbeat.

He watched, in shock, as a doctor tried to tell them that these things just happen sometimes. That there wasn’t a real reason so they couldn’t blame themselves. Y/N cried so hard she ended up hyperventilating before nurses gave her some medications to calm down and eventually fall asleep. That was the first of many nights that Hoseok spent awake just thinking.

They go home in the morning. Hoseok turned his phone on for the first time since reaching the hospital to a flood of notifications. Maybe sending a simple ‘she miscarried’ to the group chat and turning his phone off wasn’t a good idea, he thinks. Y/N didn’t turn her phone on. Her lock screen was from a maternity shoot they did, and it made her emotional on days when her hormones were acting up so there’s no telling how she’d react now. Knowing the date on the picture was just a random day and no longer a countdown to the most exciting moment of their lives.

Hoseok ignores all the messages, missed phone calls, and voicemails as he opens the group chat again. ‘We’re home’ is all he sends. He mutes all notifications and decides how to tell his parents. Y/N already told her own parents, she called from Hoseok’s phone and they were going to come over ASAP, the insisted despite her kind heart not wanting to worry them with the travel. Hoseok toyed with the idea of just pretending everything was fine and not telling his parents. He knew a vague text to his mother wouldn’t be the right choice. He had to call.

Pacing around the living room, Hoseok tries to steady his breathing. Y/N sleeping in their bedroom, far enough away that she can’t hear him walking back and forth. Under normal circumstances, she’d scold him for ‘wearing down the wood flooring’. They were told she’d be very tired as her body recovered. He’s slightly comforted by that. She isn’t crying or in pain when she’s sleeping.

He calls his mother like ripping a band-aid. It’s ringing before he knows he’s even done it.

Her voice comes through so excited and all the work he had done to calm down is worthless in a moment as he recognizes she’s expecting some good news.

“Eomma…” His voice quivers. She knew right then something was truly wrong. “Y/N miscarried.” The words he hadn’t said aloud yet. He swears he feels his heart shatter. He doesn’t really hear what his mother says to him. Something with the purpose of being comforting, laced with her own sorrow.

“Do you want us to come over?” She asks.

“No.” Yes. She knows what he means.

“I’ll arrange a trip now.”

He resists the urge to throw his phone after hanging up. Anger is part of grief, he remembers. He didn’t want to remember. But he did. Walking to his bedroom, he regrets the decision to make the nursery the room before the master bedroom and not the room after it. He stands, gazing at the closed door for a good 5 minutes as if held more than unused furniture now tainted with happy memories of a child that will never use it.  

“Hoseok…” Her voice breaks his trance as she stands in the doorway of their bedroom. Her eyes are puffy, her cheeks are a blotchy red color, her hair is falling out of the lopsided bun she put it in the night before. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Do you need more Tylenol? The doctor said warm showers can help the pain.” He tries to remember everything he was told. Y/N shakes her head, a sad smile on her face as she sniffles. She could see how hard he was breaking, and she could see how hard he was trying to pretend he wasn’t. It only broke her heart more.

“Come hold me.” Her voice is soft. “Please.” Hoseok closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to cry, trying to be strong. He nods and shuffles over to her, prompting her back into the bedroom.

“Do you want –”

“I just want my husband to hold me.” She cuts him off as she gets into bed. Hoseok lays down beside her and pulls her into his side.

“My parents are coming over and yours said they’d call when they land.” He speaks softly, afraid that if he speaks any louder, he’ll scare the tears into dropping down his cheeks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” It. It. It. The miscarriage. The ‘it’.

He mutters an apology.

The visits from their parents come and go quickly. Y/N stayed in bed most of the time, leaving Hoseok to try and be somewhat of a host. No one expected him to be though. Their family mainly cleaned up, cooked some food, took care of whatever needed to be done. Including box up some baby-related items hanging around. They made sure to do that while the couple was not around. As moving a plush toy had sent Hoseok into a fit that ended with him crying into his mother’s shoulder.

They had a couple of dinners together, only a couple though. Both were just to force Y/N to socialize. Telling her that isolating will only hurt her further. Hoseok’s father took to constantly reminding him that he needed to be strong for Y/N. That her mind and her body were both unwell at the moment. Only a passing comment of acknowledgment for Hoseok’s own mental state during this time. ‘Please take care of yourself too.’ He reassures his father that he’s fine. But his father never saw him smile in the week he was there. Not even a fake smile to reassure his parents, the ones they always saw through but pretended not to. His lips never moved more than the few words he spoke required. Y/N’s parents stay a couple of days longer than Hoseok’s but soon the couple are alone.

The other members checkup frequently. Mostly showing up to the door since neither was very good at answering texts or calls. Bang PD even comes by a few times over the next couple of weeks. TXT even makes a couple of rounds. But quickly, it’s been a full month since that Thursday in April.

Hoseok had only had 4 full nights of sleep in the past month. All were because of medication which he decided he didn’t like. He said he hated how he felt when he woke up. When asked how it made him feel he withheld giving an extended answer. Refreshed. That’s how it felt to wake up after 8 hours of sleep. And he hated it. How could he feel refreshed when he just lost a child. When his wife began therapy. When his band was put on a break. How could he let himself feel refreshed? So, he didn’t take the meds. Said they were for tour anyway, when the jetlag was really bad. No one pushed further.

30 whole days later, Y/N was smiling. No one really knew if it was genuine. It reminded Hoseok of when they announced their relationship and through all the hate and death threats, she still smiled saying it didn’t outweigh their love. Everyone believed her until she broke down at the BigHit building when a specific death threat was too concerning to let her walk around without security.

Hoseok didn’t believe these smiles. Not for a second. He couldn’t believe she was truly enjoying the warm May sun on her face and the sound of birds singing outside their home. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – believe it.

Namjoon takes her to therapy. He hangs around the area to pick her up when it’s over. She was scared to drive herself and Hoseok wouldn’t go. Thus, Namjoon decided to take her to and from her appointments twice a week and come in to check on Hoseok after.

Hoseok didn’t appreciate it. He’d much rather everyone leave him alone. Including his wife whose smiles only infuriated him.

One and a half months after that Thursday in April, all the boys come over with food. Hoseok is in the home studio. He says he’s working on music, but Y/N has passed by a few times and only heard the sound of their baby’s heartbeat on loop. They hadn’t all come over as a group in a while. Usually individually or a couple at a time. They decided all 6 at once could be overwhelming. Y/N tries to assure them that Hoseok is still grieving, but he’ll be okay, and he’ll be back to himself soon. She says this partially for her own benefit. She’s not sure if she believes it and the guys are unsure as they see her eyes tear up before she’s even finished talking. She thanks them for coming over, making sure to go over some cooking instructions with Seokjin before they leave.

Shortly after the door closes, Hoseok comes into the kitchen. She doesn’t know if he just had good timing or if he had been lingering. She gives him a quick smile.

“The guys came over.” She tells him, but she knows he’s aware. The doorbell is very loud, and so are 6 men walking into your home. He mutters a response. “They miss you.” She sticks a dish in the fridge and starts unwrapping the warm one Seokjin made for that day. His willingness to cook is a blessing, Y/N thought every time he made sure their fridge was full.

“That’s nice.” The most common phrase over the past 6 weeks.

“I miss you.” Y/N looks up, meeting his eyes. He tilts his head slightly in confusion. It’s the most emotion she’s seen from him since that Thursday in April.

“I’ve been here.” His voice is monotone. She shakes her head, pressing her lips together in a thin line, taking a deep breath as tears already build up in her eyes.

“I miss…my husband. I miss the sunshine personified. I miss the man I fell in love with. I miss Hoseok. I want Jung Hoseok. Not this shell of a human that sits at the foot of our bed all night long.” She sobs with a bitter laugh as she thinks about how crazy she must sound. “I’m in pain, so much pain. And I know you are too. I can see it in your eyes how hard this is. But we can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears fall from his eyes. Y/N isn’t sure she’s actually seen him cry since that Thursday in April. She tells him not to be sorry. Mouthing words as she can’t get her vocal cords to make. He takes her hands. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the supportive husband I promised I’d be. You wanted a family so bad. We wanted a family so bad. And…I couldn’t give that to you. I failed.”

“All I ever wanted…is right here in front of me.” She cups his face in her hands, making sure he sees the sincerity in her eyes. “You didn’t fail. Don’t ever think you’ve failed.”

“How do we fix this?” He questions. “Tell me we can fix this…” He begs her.

“I have an appointment tomorrow. We can start there.” She suggests, he nods. “I love you.” Hoseok kisses her lips for the first time in a month and a half.

FIN. Reposted