#➺ ❀ 【 THOUGH IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD (Claus) 】 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-awturn · 9 months ago

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Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

“You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

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#f1 imagine #f1 #f1!angst #f1!fanfic #f1!headcanons #f1 grid x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #sawturn

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 years ago

Text

i saw mommy kissing santa claus | joel miller

Summary | Your daughter catches you kissing santa... or does she?

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | Mentions of traditional Christmas (A tree, gift giving ect), Joel dressed as Santa, Joel being a daddy again, Joel AS A HUSBAND, smut but not super explicit - oral sex (f) and unprotected PiV, just general fluff really.

Authors note | Firstly, I have to give a huge shoutout to @wildemaven - the Dave York piece she posted recently definitely inspired this little Drabble, along with being stuck in a car with my bestie for three hours with the Christmas radio blaring. This is just some sweet Christmas fluff for us all!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

amazing divider by @saradika

The way the snow flurries fall outside are still a wonder to you, even after seven years of winters in Jackson. The warmth you remember from Christmas before the end of the world is a distant memory now, the open windows and the light breeze of December now replaced with the biting cold and the four layers you must wear inside your home to keep as warm as possible. It’s magical though, the way it looks picture perfect, just like the movies you would watch back then. If you could, you’d take a photo of it, use it as the family Christmas card.

Turning around from the window, the room is bathed in the orange glow from the fire you set a few hours earlier. The lamp, on Joel’s side of the couch is also helping, as are the frosty lights wrapped haphazardly around the tree, in making it feel normal. Because really it is. This has been your life for the past five years, putting up a tree, setting small gifts under it like you always had before all of this. The three stockings set above the fireplace, ready to be filled in the next few hours – the precursor of joy the following morning.

Sofia had thankfully gone to bed with little fuss tonight. Finally old enough to understand that the earlier she went to sleep, the earlier she could wake up to find out if Santa had paid her a visit. She hadn’t been planned, but then when were children ever a plan in this new world? You’d been scared, Joel had been terrified, but in the end, she had been the most wonderful thing to happen to the both of you.

You settle on the couch, letting the warmth from the fire soothe the aches that the cold now settles across your bones. You’re almost able to fall asleep, when, with clockwork timing, Joel tears open the front door, a flurry of snow and cold following him in as he closes it behind him. You struggled to stifle a giggle as you turn to look at him.

Dressed head to toe in a Santa costume that is far too big for him, not enough time for the town seamstress to do anything other than pin the sides of the trousers in. The hat on his head is almost covering his eyes, his hand pushing it back to sit properly, as he deposits the sack, once full of tiny gifts but now empty, on the ground. He’s got a fake beard on to cover most of his face so that none of the children that did see him would know it was Joel.

“Wow,” You muse lightly, standing from the couch, “I thought it was customary to wait for everyone to go to sleep before you turned up?”

There’s a slight grumble from under his beard as you step closer to him, watching as he pulls the fake beard down to sit around his neck, his beautiful face finally revealed. You set your back against the closed door, leaning against it, fluttering your eyelashes slightly.

“Did you bring us presents, Santa?” You ask, voice sultry and low.

“Depends,” Joel says, voice just as low, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

That low, southern drawl shoots straight between your legs, thighs rubbing together as you shrug at him, wrinkle your nose a little, “You’d have to ask my husband.”

You watch as he smirks, steps a little closer to you, his gloved hand wrapping around your waist, “What would he say?”

“That I can be a handful,” You bite at your bottom lip, “But ultimately, I always do as I’m told.”

Joel leans down, as slowly as possible, mouth so close you can feel his breath across your lips, your body tugged closely to his own now, “Well then,” He muses, “If you’ve been a good girl, it’s only right you get your gift.”

His mouth is on yours in no time, softly pressed against yours, his hand clutching your body close to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing up on your tiptoes so your mouth is finally flush with his own. You open your mouths at the same time, tongues meeting as Joel groans into your mouth, hands pulled from your body just long enough to tear the gloves off his hands, shoving them straight under the hem of your shirt, resting at your waist to move you gently from the door to the couch.

He sets you down on your back, fumbling his big body to cover yours as those hands of his work to undo your jeans - tearing them down your legs enough so he can put his mouth on you. You feel weirdly like a teenager, fumbling with someone on the couch like this, biting down on your fist in order to keep quiet as Joel’s tongue works across your soaked cunt, drinking you down, tipping you over the edge twice with his mouth - the second, with his fingers buried deep inside you - trying to keep yourself as quiet as you can, you know the other option is waking your daughter and having to spend the rest of the night trying to get her to go back to sleep.

It gets harder to hold that noise in when Joel pulls you onto his lap, trousers pushed down just enough for you to sink down onto his cock, that stupid Santa jacket unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders, your mouth biting down on his skin as he fucks up into you, his hands gripping the meat of your ass to keep you still.

It’s messy, it lasts probably less than five minutes, Joel spilling himself inside of you, your mouth pulled from his shoulder, bite mark evident as he moves you gently, puts himself right so he can carry you up the stairs, tuck you both into bed, his warm body next to yours as you both drift off to sleep, sated and happy.

Then, the next morning, with Sofia on her knees in front of the tree, you sat on the couch, curled into Joel’s side with a smile on your face at the elation your daughter finds in tearing the paper off her gifts, she says something no-one expects.

“Daddy?” She says, big brown eyes looking up at the two of you.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Mommy was kissing Santa last night.”

You almost choke on your coffee, spluttering to try and keep your composure, praying to the Almighty that it was just the kissing she saw. Joel though, is cool as a cucumber.

“Is that right?” He asks, looking down at you with a wink.

“Yeah!” Sofia exclaims, “I saw her last night.”

“You were supposed to be in bed.” You chastise her lightly, “What were you doing up?”

“I heard the door open,” She says, so matter-of-factly that it’s like having a conversation with an adult, “I wanted to meet him.”

“Well, you see,” Joel speaks, “Sometimes, to get your presents from Santa, he’s gotta ask for somethin’ in return, all that travellin’ in one night and he sees your pretty mama?” He shakes his head, “I’d ask her for a kiss too.”

She mulls it over a little, small hands holding onto an unopened gift, then clearly accepts the explanation as she tears into the paper.

“Nicely saved,” You whisper into his ear, lips pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind it, “Christmas is saved.”

“Oh baby,” He whispers back, taking the lull in Sofia’s attention on the two of you to look down at you, “You can’t think you can kiss Santa and get away with it?” His low voice sends a silver down your spine, “You’re gonna have to make up for that later."

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kingdom-carer · 4 months ago

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Unique agere writing prompts:

A bunch of young or inexperienced characters (the younger/less experienced the funnier) are hanging out together when suddenly one of them regresses. None of the others know what to do - “I don’t know how to take care of a baby!!! Do YOU know how to take care of a baby!?”

A character regresses alone … except for their pet. They pick up on the fact that their person is suddenly acting like a child, and takes care of them the best way a pet knows how. (Bonus points if the pet’s reasoning abilities are enhanced somehow, whether through creative storytelling or in-world magical properties.)

A character regresses and loses all of their speech. No cute babbles or lisping here - just complete silence. CG has to figure out what their baby wants through gestures alone, and that can be challenging depending on how young their kiddo is.

A character teen regresses around their superior or boss, becoming mouthy or being silly in a distracting manner. Boss/coworker quickly discourages that behavior, and teen is highly embarrassed and has to work through a lot of unhappy emotions regarding rebellion or rejection. The boss/coworker could be either caring or mean for this one.

Kiddo’s heart stops when they see someone who looks like Santa Claus on their day out. Without thinking, they approach him. The man is surprised to see them, but meets them with warmth and promises to write their Christmas wish down for the elves. Was it really Santa? Who knows?

Middle shyly admits that they are interested in something they got scolded for when they were young - and CG decided to join them in their quest to live out the dream, whether that’s funky hair, a new fandom, or a tricky hobby. Kiddo ends up rocking it, of course.

Digging up old writing or artwork pitches a middle into their headspace - and it is NOT a good one. CG isn’t sure why middle is being so bratty until they suddenly burst into tears, saying they hate themselves and they wish they could just disappear. CG offers to go through the sketchbook and praises each page lovingly as they do, but the drawings turn darker and darker …

CG has a hard day and wants to love on their kiddo to relax, but kiddo isn’t feeling particularly small and subtly tries to redirect the attempts at affection. CG gets more and more frustrated until they snap, shouting, throwing things, slamming doors and cabinets. So many repressed emotions bubbling up … CG immediately regrets what they’ve done and hides away in shame. Baby does their best to cheer CG up again, even if CG’s outburst scared them.

Kiddo is perfectly big when going about their day, but a sweet lady at the gas station starts calling them all sorts of pet names when she sees they’re upset and offers to pay for their snacks. Kiddo immediately tries to hold it together, but tears are still falling from their eyes.

CG or kiddo revisits their childhood home and reflects on their upbringing. Good? Bad? Ugly? You decide.

Middle revisits a school and realizes how … young they all are. Mentally, they’ve been stuck there for so long … but my, how far they’ve come.

Kiddo has to babysit a younger kiddo when there’s no one else around to care for them. Chaos ensues.

For some reason (possibly due to trauma or magic?), big cannot remember being little, even though the aftermath exists. They begin leaving notes to themselves when big, and get responses back when small. Slowly, they start to heal their hurt brains and bridge the gap between headspaces.

Big actually goes back in time to meet their little self. Who have they become in the eyes of this tiny person?

Kiddo is afraid of making messes and getting in trouble, so CG responds with sensory bins, mud puddles, shaving cream kiddie pools, and other activities where getting messy is the name of the game. There are lots of big feelings, but nothing a little food fight can’t fix.

CG misses their kiddo so much it hurts. They snuggle a pillow and tend to their stuffies, but it isn’t the same. They call their kiddo just to see how they’re doing, and kiddo can tell it’s hard for them to be apart; so they decide to get their CG a pet.

A kiddo with powers has to relearn to use them when small, since channeling energy takes focus … and so does repressing a magical outburst when upset.

A CG starts falling in love with someone … and kiddo notices, taking it upon themself to help them get together by being “sneakily” romantic. Naturally it is not quite as subtle as they intended.

You’ve heard of “caught being little,” now get ready for “caught being a CG.” Why IS this box full of band-aids and stuffed animals and grab-and-go play packs and electrolytes in your closet?

#mama talks #sfw age dreaming #sfw age regression #sfw agedre #sfw agere #sfw cg #sfw cglre #christian agere #sfw littlespace #sfw middlespace #agere writing #agere prompts

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rebelspykatie · 6 months ago

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The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Steve’s had enough of the teasing and drags Eddie into the dressing room by his wrist for some privacy, locking Robin and Hopper outside. Laughter reaches his ears but he doesn’t care. Hopper raps his knuckles on the door again and yells ten minutes. It sounds like they shuffle away from the door until all Steve can hear is the low thrum of the baseline again and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

As soon as the door closes, he crowds Eddie against it. Even though he hasn’t been on stage yet, Eddie’s glistening with a sheen of sweat that Steve wants to lick off his neck. He angles their bodies together, one hand on the door beside Eddie’s head, the other lightly resting on his hip.

“Is this okay?”

“There’s probably some mistletoe lying around here somewhere if you need an excuse.”

That’s all the permission Steve needs. The distance closes between them and he’s not sure who moves first, but something hot coils in his gut when their lips meet. The culmination of all his feelings over the past few weeks flooding out into all the places they touch. Somehow, it feels different with Eddie already. That first touch feels like a lifetime of longing coming to fruition, despite only knowing each other a few weeks. Such a short amount of time to fall for someone, but he has.

Electricity zaps from where his fingertips graze that pale skin of Eddie’s abdomen all the way down to his toes. It feels a bit like floating. One swipe of Eddie’s mouth against his and he could take flight. But it’s also anchoring him in place. Eddie is frenetic against him, but it’s like the world around them has stopped, giving them space to work this out before continuing to let the minutes tick by.

Hands slip around Steve’s body, one fisting into the back of his sweater and the other gliding smoothly over the nape of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. Steve melts into him, getting impossibly closer and still not close enough. It’s delicious and everything Steve dreamed of, but they don’t have enough time to get into anything more than a few heated kisses. That insistent warning from Hopper still ringing in Steve’s ears. Ten minutes.

When he pulls away, Eddie’s lips chase him with a soft whine.

“No, wait- come back,” he paws at Steve’s sweater trying to drag him back in.

Steve puts his hand over Eddie’s face and pushes back. “You have a show to do.”

“Who cares about a show?” His smirk turns downright lascivious. “I could get a show right here.”

“There will be plenty of time after the show for more of…whatever this is, right?” He’s hesitant, despite all signs pointing to Eddie being in all the way on this, too.

“I’ll make time for whatever you want.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie. You’re a rockstar, and I’m just some guy.”

Eddie jostles him a bit, grabbing onto his shoulders and shaking gently. “You’re way more than just some guy to me, Steve. It’s like I’ve had my own personalized present delivered to me in a dorky Christmas sweater by Santa Claus himself.”

“Hey! My sweater isn’t-”

“It is, and it’s adorable.” He accentuates this point with a kiss to the tip of Steve’s nose. “And we have all the time in the world to figure it all out. We don’t have to have all the answers right now, five minutes before I go on stage. But this is the last show of the year, kind of a hometown thing. So, I’m all yours after tonight.”

“You live in Indy?”

“When we’re not recording or touring, yeah. I told you about my uncle.” Steve nods, remembering that late night conversation about the uncle that adopted him. “He’s my home. Lives about an hour outside of Indy. It’s a good place to hide.”

“So you’ll be close?” Steve lets himself lean into Eddie again, whose arms wrap around him and hold him tightly against his chest.

“For as long as you’ll let me be.”

“Merry Christmas to me, then.” And he kisses Eddie again. Soft and sweet. Perhaps it’s Steve’s turn to get the gift he deserves.

END

Now on AO3

Thanks for reading my loves, merry christmas!

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #christmas

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seaskate · 1 month ago

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Poll is done, check here for fics as they come out

Fic Explanations:

1. The Batkids are watching the first season of Arcane and stop for the night after episode four. They discuss who would be which characters if they were in the world of Arcane. Jason says that he would Jinx, Tim knows that he's wrong.

(Joker Junior Tim)

2. Constantine comes to Gotham following a magical lead that had fled to the city, knowing that most Justice League members and metas are not welcome there. This somehow leads the man and the bats to the conversation of Santa Claus, his apparent realness, his death that one of the bats had known of, and what Constantine did with his bones after that.

3. Tim has met many assassins over the years. This is not a fact that the bats know as well as they should. So, when assassins start popping up around the teen, there are questions to be had, and schemes and deals at hand. Maybe even the return of some that Tim had thought lost.

4. When Tim turns eighteen, it is Ra's that finds him first. Normally Tim would hate such a thing, but Ra's at least was an enemy that he knew would play mind games with him, not someone meant to protect and care for him that does test in him anyways and calls it training. He says as much to the man not knowing that the bats were watching.

5. [Mini series: 2 pieces]

Tim goes to Jason in his Red Robin costume before he leaves Gotham to search for Bruce, asking the older bat to look out for his territory while he was away. Jason is more concerned with the younger bat having taken another costume of his than why he'sleaving Gotham. Tim explains that neither thefts had had anything to do with Jason, especially not this one.

(It was Kon's colors that he was chasing this time after all)

6. Ra's reaches out to the bats, asking for them to mediate a meeting between the high ranking members of the League of Assassins that he wanted to hold in Gotham. They agree, hoping for a chance to gleam information from the shadow society. Tim doesn't show up though, at least not in the way that they had expected.

7. The five Robins, previous and current, meet one day and end up on the conversation of who counts as the killer Robin out of the five of them.

It's not who any of them thinks.

8. [Mini series: four pieces]

Tim Drake was kidnapped when he was thirteen, and his DNA forcefully changed by the Temps Aeternalis to hold that of history's greatest killers, making him a perfect killer. He escapes two years later and returns to the night he was taken, and soon becomes Robin later. This is how Young Justice, Ra's, The Batfamily, and the Justice League come to know of these events.

(Based loosely around the Umbrella Academy comics and the experiments done to Five within them by Temps Aeternalis (alt. The Commission in the show) In this, Tim is meant to have been a trail subject for the process done to and prefected with Five)

9. Three assassins break into the Batcave one night, three that Tim knew very well even if he had thought that he had buried two of them in that desert. Now they stand before will eyes faintly green.

He knows then that he has to choose.

Fan Fic Request Are Open

Check page for more information

#batman #tim drake #red robin #dc robin #fanfic ao3 #ao3 #ao3 fic #batman fanfiction #tim drake fanfiction #joker junior #young justice #teen titans #young just us #justice league #batfamily #jason todd #red hood

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oddinary4bts · 1 month ago

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Be With You | ch 9

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: mentions of Jungkook (he's a permanent warning at this point), mention of a scar, vague mention of death (her uncle passed when she was 12), mentions of depression, oc is also depressive, alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating

☆word count: 7.2k

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: another sad chapter am sorry :'). Plus, I'm still in Seoul, and it's been so so fun omg. and thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, November 2nd

Home is warm. Home is filled with memories of your childhood, of bruising your knees on the pavement when you fell while playing soccer. It’s filled with memories of Christmas Eves drinking hot chocolate, trying to see if you were able to stay up long enough to see Santa Claus bringing the gifts only to fall asleep by the fireplace. Home is middle school, the dances, homecoming.

Home is also where you fell in love with Jungkook, only to get crushed by the end. Yet home is home, and the negativity of Jungkook’s passage in your life doesn’t overcome the positivity and nostalgia of growing up.

You doubt anything could. Because home is where you had your first kiss even before Jungkook. It’s where you and Sydney used to have sleepovers in a tent in the backyard feeling like you were on top of the world. Home is where you used to stargaze on the roof in your teenage years, when you thought you should go into astronomy.

When the perspective of becoming an astronaut seemed like a journey you wanted to achieve. And though you haven’t followed that path at all in the end, home is a place where the magic of growing up and slowly learning what person you want to be in adulthood lingers.

You wanted to be strong, independent. You wanted to go to college and live in the city and come home for holidays, bringing your dog and hopefully a partner that would cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished.

You never thought home would be the place you’d go hide when heartbreak steals the breath from your lungs, yet here you are tonight, and it’s healing.

So, so healing.

Maybe it’s the fire in the fireplace, crackling away its merry song. Maybe it’s the Christmas tree you’ve put up earlier today with your family and Sydney. Maybe it’s the fact that men have been banned from the living room except for bringing you snacks once in a while. Maybe it’s a combination of everything. But the heartbreak from back in college seems distant tonight, as does the thought of Choi San.

But he doesn’t leave your mind - you doubt he will for a while, and tonight you think it’s okay. It’s okay if days and weeks and months later, you still think of him. It’s okay if he’s there at the back of your mind whenever you see something that reminds you of him. It’s okay if your heart still beats for him when you reminisce about the idyllic moments you spent with him.

As long as you don’t let it hurt you too much. As long as it doesn’t bring you down until you can’t get up. But tonight, tonight you have Sydney and your mother, and it’s all you’ve been needing.

“Another full house?” you complain as you watch the dice on the coffee table in front of you. “I’ve already had ten of them.”

You’ve been playing Yahtzee, Christmas music playing in the background, and you’re on your way to grandly losing. Indeed, your mother has already scored three Yahtzees, and you haven’t even been able to get your straights.

“You’ll get it next time,” your mother reassures you, while Sydney winces, slightly shaking her head as you exchange a look.

You all laugh, though your laughter doesn’t feel as free as it usually does. But at least you’re laughing.

“Mrs Jeong, you crushed us in the last two games,” Sydney says. “I don’t think we’ll ever win.”

“Yeah mom, are you cheating?” you tease your mother. “It feels like you are.”

“I just have a good flick of the wrist,” your mother says with a proud smile.

You frown. “Ew.”

Your mother’s gaze widens, and then she pushes you. “I meant to roll dice.”

You shrug while Sydney stifles a laugh, and then you resume playing. You evidently lose, and you decide to stop playing for now, instead putting on some dumb reality TV show your mother swears is interesting. It isn’t really, yet you do find yourself joking around with your mother and Sydney at some of the contestants’ stupidity. It keeps you occupied, keeps your mind from going back to a dimpled boy and for now, it’ll have to suffice.

You’re halfway through an episode when Yunho walks in, a sheepish look on his face.

“Not to interrupt,” he says, raising his hands in defense when the three of you glare his way, “but the crumble is ready. Do you want any?”

“Bring us some plates,” your mother orders. “Please.”

“Can I have some?”

Sydney throws a pillow at him, and he effortlessly catches. “Just get the dessert for us and then have some in the kitchen. This is a no man zone.”

“You guys are so mean,” he complains under his breath as he walks back out of the living room, disappearing at the bend in the hallway.

“I don’t mind if he stays,” you say, much like you’ve said earlier when Sydney told him to go chill in his room.

“We don’t need men tonight,” your mother says. “Girlhood time.”

You roll your eyes. “This feels a little excessive.”

Your mother sighs loudly. “Fine. Yunho, your sister said you can stay!”

He’s quick to come back with the plates then, handing one to your mom and Sydney before he goes back to the kitchen for his piece and yours. And then your mother resumes the show, and you eat the dessert while watching.

There’s something healing about apple crumble. You don’t know exactly what, but it’s a little easier to smile after that. It helps that Yunho accepts to do face masks with you after you eat, and he does it like a champ while Sydney complains about it the whole time. It’s fun, easy, and San manages to leave your thoughts alone for a little while, up until your mother starts yawning more than talking, a clear indication that she’s getting tired.

“You can go to bed,” you tell her. “You don’t have to stay up for me.”

“I haven’t seen my kids in months, please just let me enjoy your company.”

Your father comes back then - he had a dinner with some clients - and he walks in to the sight of you all in the living room, sheet masks on.

“What did I miss?” he deadpans.

Your mother pulls her mask off, getting up with a stretch. “Girl’s night.”

“And boy!” Yunho chimes in.

Your father snorts. He walks over to your mother, kissing her forehead as he pulls her into a hug. “Ew, that did not taste good.”

“That’s mean,” your mother grumbles, though her words are muffled by your father’s shirt.

“I’m talking about the lotion thing you have going on,” he explains. “You know I’d never say that about you.”

“That sounds suspicious,” Yunho says.

You kick your brother - he’s sitting on the floor at your feet, Sydney on his other side. “Can you not?”

“Am I wrong though?”

“Behave, children,” your father says in a stern voice, though it shortly breaks into a laugh.

You all know your mother has always been the most authoritative between the two of them after all.

You watch your parents holding each other, and your heart aches in your chest, so much so that you find yourself looking away, gazing at the television instead. The contestants are playing a game you don’t understand the rules of, yet it’s distracting enough that you can fight the onslaught of tears that was threatening to come until it goes away, leaving you feeling exhausted.

The loneliness wasn’t too far off despite the evening. Indeed, it’s creeping back in now, especially as Yunho wraps an arm around Sydney, and she leans her head on his shoulder. It’s such a simple display of affection, but it makes you miss San, makes you want the explanation that never came, one you know you’ll never have.

Hell, you don’t even know what you’ll do about the project. You’ve considered talking to the professor, but you don’t even know what you would say.

But it’s a problem for another day. Tonight, you try to focus on the here and now, try to recover that sense of peace you had earlier, yet you can’t shake it off. Not even after your parents have headed to bed, and it’s just you, Sydney and Yunho. Especially not when you head to bed, too, in the room that held such horror once that you find yourself tracing the line of the faint scar on your arm, the one that bloomed on your skin that August night.

You wonder, did Jungkook ever get the help he clearly needed? Or does he go around hurting every girl that he meets, even now?

More than that, as you watch the full moon in the sky outside, you wonder, is San watching it too? Is San just as lonely as you are, or has he already moved on?

If only you could know. If only you could know what Choi San is up to tonight. Is he at home, spending the evening with Byeol while playing video games? Or is he out and about with his friends, losing himself in alcohol and…

And someone else. Has he already moved on to being able to do that?

Worse, did he even care about you enough to have trouble meeting other people after you?

You’re crying. You’re crying, muffling the pained sounds in your childhood comforter, much like you did after Jungkook’s passage in your life.

Home is warm, and home is comfort. But home is also heartbreak. Home is cold, blue like ice and tonight, you cry for your heartbreak. You cry for falling too fast for someone that didn’t deserve it in the end.

Your tears don’t make it any better, yet it seems like there’s no dam to stop their flow. So you cry your pain into your childhood comforter, cry for the little girl inside of you that’s been hurt time and time again, be it by friends when you were younger or by lovers when you were a little older.

You cry because you feel like you’re failing her. You failed to protect her and it breaks and shatters.

Is the pain going to be everlasting?

Sunday, November 3rd

You’re tired. Exhausted, even, as you barely slept last night, and you decided to get up when the sun had barely risen. You’re regretting your decision as you sit at the kitchen counter, feeling like you might be sick, but by the time you decide to go back to your room, your father appears in the doorway, looking just as tired as you.

He’s been having trouble sleeping for years, ever since he was in a car accident with your uncle who unfortunately didn’t make it in the end. You were young then, barely even twelve, and though the pain of losing an uncle has faded with the years, you know the pain of losing a brother hasn’t faded for your father.

“You’re up early,” your father says as he walks into the kitchen, making his way to the coffee machine.

“Couldn’t really sleep.”

Your father doesn’t reply right away, busying himself with preparing coffee instead. Once the machine is on and it’s started grinding the coffee beans, your father leans against the counter, looking at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You think it might be the early morning. Because you aren't able to lie and say you’re okay.

You’re too tired to pretend.

“I’m feeling sad again,” you say.

Code word for, you’re feeling like you felt back then when you’d just gotten out of your relationship with Jungkook. Your father gets it immediately, and his eyes turn somber.

“When did it start?”

You sigh, looking down at your hands where they’re resting on the counter. “I don’t know if mom told you about the guy I was seeing?”

You know they tell each other everything, so you’re not surprised when he nods.

“Well, we didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” your dad gently asks.

“I think I fucked up.” You take a deep breath. “I didn’t tell him about Jungkook. I didn’t want to have to tell him, but then we went to a party… I think Jungkook talked to him.”

“You saw Jungkook?”

There’s murder in your father’s voice. Hell, you think if he had been the one to be home that August night, Jungkook would have most likely died.

“For like five seconds,” you say. “We left when I saw him.”

“You and the boy?”

You shake your head. “No, San left before. That’s why I think Jungkook talked to him? We were supposed to leave together, and then he disappeared and only texted me later during the night to say he went home.”

Your father scoffs, but then the coffee is ready, interrupting the conversation. He pours himself a cup, offering you one that you gladly take even though you’ve never been too much of a coffee drinker.

“He left you alone?” your father asks as he sits on the stool next to you.

“Yunho and Sydney were there,” you reply, as if that excuses what San did. “But… yeah, he left. And he’s been ignoring all my messages since then. Doesn’t show up to class anymore either.”

A heavy silence settles on the kitchen, and you take a sip of the coffee, wincing at the strong taste.

“You’re not going to like what I’m about to say…” your father starts. “But don’t you think it might be better that way?”

It punches you right through your gut, and your fist clenches on the cup of coffee. “What?”

“If the boy can’t even talk to you, is he deserving of your love?”

You don’t know. You don’t know anymore.

“His father cheated on his mom and left them alone for years,” you try to explain as if that justifies San’s behaviour. “I feel like it’s all he knows.”

“If he’s gone through that, he knows the pain of it himself,” your father says. “If he’s willing to put you through that too, I don’t think he deserves you at all.”

Your father has never been one to mince his words and though they hurt, you know he’s right.

“It doesn’t make it easier, though,” you say with a small voice, a voice far too vulnerable for the big, bad world outside.

“I know.” Your father pats your arm. “It doesn’t have to. It’s normal that you’re hurting right now.”

“I just…” you trail off, blinking away the wetness that starts pricking at your eyes. “I don’t know how to get back up.”

“It’s recent,” your father reminds you. “Maybe you don’t have to get back up right away.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Maybe you should give yourself time to rest before you try getting back up.”

A tear spills on your cheek, and you weakly dry it with your thumb. “I’m afraid it’s going to fuck up my semester.”

“It won’t,” your father reassures you. “Pumpkin, you’re the most intelligent person I know. The most intelligent Jeong. No offense to your brother.” You let out a small laugh. “This won’t fuck up your semester.”

“But what if it does?”

“Then you get back up next semester,” your father says. “It’s not the end of the world if you get bad grades once in a while. Your mental health comes first, you know?”

Sometimes, you forget that your father studied psychology before going into law. But then you have conversations like this with him, and you remember how lucky you are to call him your dad.

“I know.” You sigh. “It’s just… I had a project to do with San.”

“For a class?” You nod your head yes. “Is there any way you can finish it yourself?”

“Not really.” You wet your lips, pulling at some dry skin before you speak again. “We have a presentation on the first week of finals.”

“That’s… inconvenient.”

You chuckle. “Yeah.” You take a deep breath, looking at your father. “But I mean… apart from that, I guess I could finish the project by myself.”

“If someone can do it, it’s you,” your father encourages you.

You look at your father, meeting his gaze. There’s so much kindness in his eyes that you can’t hold the tears back anymore, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. It’s a little awkward from sitting on stools, but you don’t care. No, all you’re focused on is letting the pain out, hoping it will stop festering in your heart.

By the time the tears recede, you feel much lighter than you’ve felt in days. You feel like maybe, maybe this is the start of getting back up. Maybe letting the pain out is the start of healing. Slowly, surely.

One step at a time.

Friday, November 8th

Almost a week later, the epiphany you thought you’d reached last Sunday while you were talking to your father seems like a mirage in the distance. But you remember your father’s words, remember that you need to give yourself some time, and so you don’t let the pain choke you up like it did before.

You don’t really let it affect you too much, actually. You’re not even sure you feel anything at all. You’ve gone numb, and perhaps that’s what you need right now.

You don’t know what you’re doing here. The soccer stadium is louder than you’d expected it would be when Sydney suggested coming to the game, the crowd buzzing with vivid energy as music plays on the speakers. You barely even feel it - you really have been feeling disconnected, yet you do force a smile out as Sydney glances at you over her shoulder.

“There’s a shit ton of people here,” she deadpans, and that does make you snort.

“There always is,” you point out. “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

“Thought it’d be great to support our soccer team. They’re winning for a reason.”

You guess they are, and you just offer her a shrug of your shoulders that makes her smile wryly before facing the other way again.

Yunho has apparently gotten here earlier, meeting up with his friends Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Sydney obviously wants to sit with them, but you’re wary.

Hongjoong is also friends with San. But then again San has been so good at avoiding you - like a shadow, he’s always there but out of reach. So you highly doubt he’ll be there tonight, especially since he hasn’t come to class since he ghosted you.

He’s even been avoiding Yunho.

You try to push San out of your thoughts, but he’s festered a while ago, digging claws in your mind until every single one of your thoughts is tainted by him. By the what-ifs, and the incomprehension, and the struggling to understand what happened.

You haven’t been good at not thinking about it. In truth, you don’t think you have even tried. Despite the conversation you had with your father, San still lingers in your head like he’s built a house in there.

You don’t want to chase him from your thoughts already anyway. Not when he was starting to mean so much, and you lost him so abruptly. And you wish you could hate him like you momentarily did before, wish you could have a shred of backbone in you, but whenever he is mentioned, you fold.

You’ll always fold for him.

“Smile,” Sydney says, and she hooks her arm with yours.

She’s trying. She’s been trying the hardest, and it hurts. Because your best friend shouldn’t have to be the one trying to save you from slowly drowning. Closure should be the answer, but that wasn’t even something San thought you worthy of.

Were you even worthy of anything at all, in his eyes?

And you don’t want to be a weight to Sydney. Not when she’s been glowing like the sun in the sky as her relationship with Yunho slowly blooms. She deserves happiness and right now…

Right now, you’re not even sure you feel anything at all.

“Sorry,” you apologize, and you force another smile. “My period is killing me.”

It’s not even a lie - your period indeed has been killing you, but you think it’s a relief. At least you’re not pregnant.

You don’t even want to think about what it would be like to find out you were pregnant right now…

“If you need to go home, I’ll totally understand,” Sydney says as she leads you towards the food and drinks bar. “But it’ll be fun, I promise.”

You wet your lips, eyeing the menu over the heads of the people in front of you. “What are you getting?” you ask, and you hope she doesn’t see the change of subject for what it is.

“Mmh,” she hums. “I was just thinking about nachos and a can of cider. You want anything?”

You shake your head no, not finding in you to reply. Sydney remains silent, her gaze heavy on your profile, and then her attention slides to the guy in front of you as he moves closer to the bar, and she tugs you with her.

The music dims, replaced by a man announcing the start of the game, introducing the players, and you look over your shoulder, though you can’t catch sight of the field from this angle. You don’t mind missing the beginning of the game though, so you linger behind as Sydney gets her food, and you hold the tray for her as she texts Yunho to ask where he’s sitting.

“He’s this way,” she says after a minute, motioning towards your right. “They’re at the last bleacher.”

You nod, and you fall into step with her, walking around a group of girls you vaguely remember from parties. They smile in recognition, and you mirror the expression, before turning towards Sydney.

“Those nachos smell delicious,” you tell her.

You don’t even know where the words came from, but they feel oddly relieving in your numbness, like maybe not everything changed.

“Have some,” she encourages you. “I won’t be able to eat all of that.”

You do so, chewing on a chip as you finally reach the right bleacher. You have to walk around it to be able to climb, and you spy the game as it unfolds on the field. It’s just a quick glance, long enough for you to see men running around after a ball, and then you’re following Sydney up the stairs to where you can now see Yunho.

You scan his surroundings, your heart quickening in your chest as if you’re about to see San, then sinking when his absence becomes far too noticeable. You’re disappointed, like maybe you’d wished to see him after all, and you shove that away, try to ignore how it reminds you of soft lips murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

One day. It took one day for him to turn away and never look back.

“Hey!” Hongjoong greets you as you reach his side.

He gets up to let Sydney pass, and Seonghwa waves from the other side of Yunho. You wave back, and then meet Hongjoong’s gaze. “Hey,” you let out.

“You want to sit next to Syd?” he asks, glancing to his side.

You raise the nachos. “We’re sharing this, so don’t really have a choice.”

He nods in understanding, and then you squeeze between him and the back of the person sitting in front of him, up until you reach Sydney's side. You plop down on the bleacher, and then put the nachos down on your knees. Yunho is quick to reach around his girlfriend - your best friend - to grab a chip, and you swat his hand away.

“Nu-uh,” you say.

He narrows his eyes at you, and Sydney chuckles, grabbing a chip that she dips in salsa. She hands it to him, and he grins at you.

“See, at least she’s got a decent bone in her body,” he tells you before biting into the chip.

“That’s the only one you’ll get,” Sydney says, and Yunho’s gaze widens as you let out a small, but oh so relieving laugh.

You can still laugh, and you think there’s beauty in the act of it. Though maybe you’re just being dramatic - your life has not ended because San decided to walk out of it without a look back. As much as it hurts, it did not end.

Maybe there’s beauty in that, too.

“She loves me more, just accept it.”

Yunho rolls his eyes before sitting back in his spot, wrapping an arm around Sydney’s shoulders to pull her closer. He kisses her temple - it’s not more than a peck, but Sydney’s cheeks still dust with pink. They’re cute, and you give them privacy, instead focusing on what’s unfolding on the field.

You don’t know much about soccer, and though Hongjoong next to you is invested and tries to explain everything, you’re still lost by the time Sydney complains that her drink is empty, mostly because Yunho has been sipping from it far too much. You side-eye them, and you snort at your brother’s apologetic gaze. He immediately tells her he’ll go get another one, but she waves him off, telling him that she doesn’t need to drink more.

“I can go get you guys drinks, if you want,” you suggest, and you wave the now empty tacos tray meekly. “I need to throw this away anyway.”

Everyone’s attention turns to you.

“I’ll go with you,” Hongjoong says, and though you appreciate the offer, you shake your head no.

“Nah, I don’t want to make you miss the game.”

He seems relieved, like he only asked to be polite and knowing him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he did. So you take everyone’s order - a beer for Hongjoong and Yunho and another cider for Sydney. Seonghwa claims he doesn’t want anything, and so you make your way down the bleachers, startling when people cheer loudly as your team scores.

Or at least you think your team scored.

It takes you all of five minutes before you’re in front of the bar again, and there’s no line this time. You throw the empty taco tray in a bin, and the guy behind the bar smiles politely as you then move in front of him.

“Huh, I’ll have two beers and a cider,” you say as you pull your phone out of the front pocket of the sweater you’re wearing.

The guy punches in the order in the register, and then you pay while he fetches the drinks from the fridge behind him, putting them on a square drink tray. You thank him when he’s done, and then you’re walking back the way you came.

You reach your bleachers, but then your gaze narrows at the sight of the guy bent over beside it, throwing up while his friend is laughing at him and filming. You think it’s disgusting from both of them - it’s hardly late enough to be this drunk - but you don’t say anything, instead walking back around the bleachers.

There’s no way you’ll walk next to that dude while he’s sick.

You go back two bleachers before you find a spot you can cross to the front of them, and then you’re walking beside the two metal installations, your eyes catching glimpses of players running. You don’t see them for too long, and you look away the second you reach the front of the bleachers.

You think you feel it. It’s like your whole body goes aware, the hair dressing on your arms despite the fact that your sweater is warm enough for the chill evening. Your gaze widens, your pulse quickens, and you look to your left, up the bleachers.

You see Wooyoung first. Wooyoung, who’s laughing at something as he waves at the field maniacally while Yeosang watches with an eyebrow cocked. And then you see Jongho and his girlfriend. Lyla notices you, or at least you think she does, but you know she loves soccer, and her gaze doesn’t linger on you as screams erupt again, another goal having been scored.

San is next. Hell, you think San was first - you knew he was there before even seeing him. He looks beautiful as ever, his smile just as blinding as you felt like it was the first time you saw him. But what you truly notice is Nayeon next to him.

Nayeon, very obviously wearing his jacket.

Nayeon, very obviously leaning into him. She earns a dimpled smile that used to be yours - was it ever really? - and you feel sick to your stomach.

I don’t date girls from our class.

Was it because of Nayeon, that he didn’t date girls from your class? Because, as his ex, he didn’t want to do anything that might push her out of his orbit the way he pushed you out?

San’s words echo in your head, and everything fades out of focus. The sounds grow distant, like maybe you’re under water, and all you can truly see is San’s smile as Nayeon says something, and you think you can even hear his laugh.

It wraps around you, wraps around your heart, and then it squeezes before tearing it from your chest.

He looks ahead, and you don’t know if he, too, is keenly aware of your presence whenever you’re nearby. Because his gaze falls on you, and his smile dies, replaced by an emotion you refuse to interpret.

It hurts too much to think he’d regard you like… that.

You can’t breathe. Your lungs feel filled with heaviness, and it burns as your throat constricts, as you try to swallow around the lump that formed at the base of it. Your gaze burns, too, tears slowly pricking at your eyes, and you take a sharp breath in.

The breath stabs and shreds, and you take a step back. And then Nayeon is pulling on his arm, trying to gain his attention, but still, he looks at you.

Still, his features remain hard, icy, so different from those you’d slowly been falling in love with that you realize it then.

You must have imagined the whole thing. Because how can he look at you with such contempt when just a few weeks ago, he was telling you he was falling for you?

Fuck.

You blink once, twice, like that might clear your gaze. But the tears cling to your eyes, the pain clings to your heart, and you think about the box cake. You think about Elden Ring, about Byeol, about the wine and cheese.

You think about what he told you that Wednesday night. Think about what his life was growing up, how devastated he was at telling you what his father did. An ugly thought forms in your head - the apple didn’t fall far from the tree after all.

You do hate him a little then. Everything in you turns bittersweet, rotten, and you swallow again, this time managing to not choke on the lump in your throat.

You would have told him you loved him. A few more days, and the embarrassing truth would have been out there. You wonder, would it have been better for it to be out?

Would you still be choking on it now?

The sounds return to your ears so quickly you almost drop the drinks in your hands, and you startle as a girl runs into you.

“Oh shit,” she lets out, and you watch as the drinks do tumble out of your hands now, falling to the ground.

You can’t even bother to bend down to pick them up. You can’t even fucking move, like everything in you froze like ice in the winter.

“Sorry,” the girl apologizes, and she grabs the drinks. “You probably shouldn’t open…” she trails off, catching sight of your face. “Are you okay?”

You’re fighting tears. You’re uselessly fighting tears - they’ve won the night you realized he had ghosted you, and multiple times since then, and they’ll win tonight, too.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl says, and she pulls you towards an empty spot at the bottom of the bleachers. “I can get you new drinks.”

“No,” you weakly say. “God no, it’s not…” You let out a small chuckle that sounds just as broken as you feel. “It’s not that.”

“Girl, are you okay?” the girl asks again, and it’s the pity in her voice that undoes you.

Tears spill free, and you just stand there in front of the empty spot, fully aware that San must have seen you. Or maybe he looked away, maybe he’s focused on Nayeon again. You don’t even risk a look, not when it’d be enough to shatter you without any chance of repair.

“I don’t feel too good,” you choke out. “Shit.”

“Come,” the girl says, and she grabs your hand again, this time pulling you towards the gap between the bleachers.

It doesn’t feel better to not be in San’s direct line of sight anymore. In truth, everything just feels worse and worse with every step that you take, and you want to crash and burn and stay here.

Dig your grave and lie in it until all this heartbreaking pain leaves you empty.

“What’s wrong?” the girl gently asks.

“Got ghosted by a dude,” you answer, and you weakly laugh through the tears. “And now I’m crying over him. What the fuck.”

She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “What a dick. I’m so sorry.”

You laugh again, and she must think you’re crazy. “I should have known.”

But how could you when he was so sweet with you? When he took care of you like he did, told you things he never told anyone before?

“Men like him are impossible to understand,” she wisely answers. “You couldn’t know. I’m really sorry.”

Her apologies won’t bring him back, and right now you don’t think you’d want him back.

That’s a lie - you’d do anything for one more moment, for one explanation.

“It’s okay,” you say, and you wipe under your eyes. “It’s okay.”

Repeating it might make it true one day, right?

“Do you…” the girl trails off. “Do you have any friends we could text?”

You blink a few times, surprised when no new tears come. “Nah. I mean, yes, but I’ll just go to them. Sorry about this.”

“Hey, girl, don’t apologize,” she reassures you. “I’m sorry you’re going through this shit.”

“Shit happens, right?”

She purses her lips in what you know is pity, but you choose to ignore it.

You don’t want anyone’s pity. Don’t want to feel as pathetic as you feel right now.

“Yeah,” the girl eventually says. She hands you the tray she thankfully brought along, the drinks safely tucked in it again. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” You gulp, and you nod as you grab the drinks. “Thanks a lot.”

“Of course,” she says, flashing an easy smile this time. “Girls supporting girls, am I right?”

That does make you smile a little, and you let out a weak, “Yes.”

And that is that. The girl asks if you’re okay to meet your friends, and you promise that you are before parting ways with her, this time choosing to walk next to the guy that’s sick.

To your relief, he’s gone when you get there, but the atmosphere of the crowd feels overwhelming, your heart still throbbing in your chest, and you know you won’t be able to stay. You still force yourself to climb the stairs, and you offer Hongjoong a tight-lipped smile as he moves to let you pass.

He barely notices, his focus trained on the game, and you’re almost thankful for it.

But then Sydney notices, and she says, “Why are you crying?”

Your eyes fill with tears again, especially as everyone in your vicinity turns to look at you.

“I’m not crying,” you lie, blinking the wetness away. It works, and you hand her the tray with the drinks. “But I do feel like shit, so I think I’ll head home.”

“I’ll come with you,” she immediately says, and she’s halfway up when you shake your head no.

“Please don’t,” you say. “I kind of want a moment alone.”

“What happened?” Yunho asks.

You meet your older brother’s gaze, and you hate to see the concern in his eyes. “San. It’s whatever.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Yunho drawls, and you slowly shake your head.

“He didn’t do anything,” you say, your cheeks burning as Hongjoong’s gaze latches on the side of your face. “He didn’t do anything at all.”

“He hurt you,” Yunho says with a vehemence you didn’t quite expect from him.

Sydney sits back down, patting his thigh. “Love the enthusiasm, but I don’t think that’s what Y/n needs right now.”

She’s right, and you’re so thankful she knows you so well that you could cry. But you’re done with crying in public - there’s just so much embarrassment you can take before you collapse.

“So,” you let out, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to head home. But you guys enjoy the game.”

“Are you sure you want to be alone?” Yunho asks.

This time, Sydney elbows him in the ribs. “Will you shut up?”

He frowns at her, rubbing the spot she hit. “Why are you so violent?”

“You deserve it,” she says, and then she meets your gaze again. “Text me if there’s anything?”

You nod as Yunho mutters, “Why do I deserve it?” It makes you roll your eyes, and then you wave all of them goodbye. You feel awkward knowing that Seonghwa, and mostly Hongjoong heard the conversation, but it’s not like you can do anything about it.

Not when, when you’re walking towards the exit, you catch sight of Yeosang and Wooyoung near the bathroom. Wooyoung waves you over, and you know you can’t avoid them.

And as much as it hurts, you did grow fond of Wooyoung in the last two months. You don’t want to just ignore him.

“What’s up?” Wooyoung says, and he throws a quick look at the bathroom.

And just like that, you know that San has to be in there. The knowledge of his proximity makes you feel like you might puke.

“Not much,” you let out. “Kinda feel sick, so I was just heading home.”

He knows. You think he knows you’re leaving because of San, but he doesn’t say anything. He only meets your gaze, nodding once in understanding.

“Rest well, then,” he says. “I’ll see you in class.”

You nod, and then you glance at Yeosang. He offers you a small smile that you echo by reflex, though you’re not sure yours even truly reaches your lips.

Especially not as San walks out of the bathroom, jacket-less, and catches sight of you.

“I’ll see you,” you tell Wooyoung, and then you turn around.

You turn around, walking away despite the fact that you can feel his gaze boring between your shoulder blades. Walking away despite your heart screaming for him, your soul reaching for his like it’ll find an explanation if it gets close enough.

And when you turn outside of the small building between the field and the parking lot, you look behind.

He’s still looking at you, and his expression hurts far more than the one from earlier did. His eyes are haunted, his mouth pulled in a taut line, and there’s such heaviness to him that his shoulders look hunched. And maybe his expression hurts so fiercely, like red iron burning in your flesh, because you know you have the same look on your face, and you don’t want to accept it. Don’t want to acknowledge that he might be hurting, too.

Why would he even be?

You ask yourself that question on the whole way home. Even when you’re in the shower, later, you’re still asking yourself that question. Why would he be hurt?

Why would he choose to do something that hurt the two of you? It doesn’t make any sense, like nothing has since he ghosted you.

Why ghost someone you’re falling in love with? You don’t think you’ll ever understand. Don’t think there’ll ever be a reason to justify it - is he just young and dumb and he ran from commitment because he was scared?

Because of the lingering trauma from his young teenage years?

Did you do something that drove him away, or did Jungkook really talk to him that night, ruining what could have been?

It wouldn’t have ruined anything if you had had the courage to tell San before. If you had explained your past to him in a way that he could have understood. But you didn’t - you were too much of a coward to tell San, and now you lost him.

The guilt claws at you, digging deep into what’s left of your heart until you’re in bed later, wrapped in a blanket. The fabric stains with your tears, and it muffles your soft sobs as you imagine it’s his arms wrapped around you.

Even everything that happened with Jungkook didn’t hurt as much as this does. And so much happened - Jungkook made you feel unworthy of love, so unworthy that you think, maybe this is just life’s twisted way of punishing you for the relationship.

Life’s twisted way of punishing you for the falling out of you and Jeon Jungkook. After all, you did cheat on Jungkook.

Why would you ever be worthy of love again?

The thoughts are haunting, dark, and they settle deep in your chest until they leave your eyes dry. Dry like the Sahara, like you cried every last drop of water in your body, leaving a pathetic, desiccated form behind. Something empty, something numb.

You try to sleep. You try to sleep that night, but it evades you. It evades you like perhaps love will always evade you, and the sky is turning grey when you grab your phone. You’re on autopilot, not even thinking about what you’re doing as you go to the chat with San.

You don’t blink your eyes as you type, don’t blink as you press send. You stare at the text bubble as it delivers, and then some more as if that might make him come back.

[6:21 am] You: listen, i understand that u don’t want to talk. i just want to finish the project! so i’d appreciate it if u replied bc i kinda don’t want to fail the class. thanks

The text is impersonal, so different from the embarrassing message you’d sent the last time you texted him when you’d finally accepted that he had ghosted you. You don’t even look at that text, refusing to live through the pain and anger of it again, and you put your phone away on the night table.

You breathe in, breathe out. The silence is heavy on your body, settling deep in your chest, and you shut your eyes.

Sleep finally takes you in its hold a little while later, when the city slowly comes alive around you. You dream of him, and you feel at peace for the first time in weeks.

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☆☆☆☆☆

sometimes i forget how angsty my fics can get until i reread bc GODDAMN this hurts. please let me know what you think of this chapter

#be with you ch 9 #be with you #san angst #san fluff #san smut #san x you #san x reader #san fic #san #choi san #choi san angst #choi san smut #choi san fluff #choi san x you #choi san x reader #choi san fic #be with you series

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wandasaura · 1 month ago

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THE GRACE OF SOUTHERN CHARM

summary — maybe the instance you fell in love with amanda rollins was the first time your daughters name rolled off her lips dripping with southern charm

warning(s) — single parent, medical examiner, mention of death, mention of assault, canon-typical content/dialogue, brief episode reference, southern accent, certified milf, pregnant amanda rollins, playful banter, flirting, oblivious reader, pregnancy, alludes to c-section delivery, ICE mentioned, consoling, cravings, mood swings (kinda), mentions/alludes to adoption, generally just cute domestic fluff

authors note — down bad for kelli giddish. once again not edited, nothing ever is here. enjoy :)

“The park isn’t this way.”

The New York skyline had evolved since you’d moved to New York. It had lost a couple of buildings, gained a couple more. It was different, but beautiful. Your life looked different too. All those years ago when you’d stepped foot in the city with a suitcase and an acceptance letter to Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. Everything had felt so big back then. The twin towns had reflected the sunlight down on you, Billionaire’s Row hadn’t seen a crowded expansion, Hudson Yards hadn’t grown so much. You’d have never anticipated the city to look the way it does now, but it had come to feel like home whether you missed the old New York City at night or not.

“We have to stop by Mommy’s job, remember?” Your voice is patient, more patient than it should be while wandering the streets of New York, but your daughter already softens your exterior and makes you vulnerable, that’s just the sad reality of the society you’re bringing her up in.

When you’d moved to New York City, before the World Trade Center had needed to be rebuilt, it had been just you. You didn’t have a roommate your freshman year due to widespread last minute unenrollment, and being a creature of habit, you’d chosen a single your sophomore year too. There had never been a roommate to mold with, schedules to memorize or sync together. You’d always been able to do your own thing whenever you wanted to, though you hadn’t taken advantage of that, spending most of your nights holed up with a highlighter and a textbook. The point was that you could have if you wanted to, but you hadn’t, and now you certainly cannot.

”All the bad guys are dead?” Your daughter pauses on the sidewalk, her little head craning to the left curiously — a trait you think she’s absorbed from watching too much Dora. You wished it was that simple, that her theory was ever at all possible, but it wasn’t. So long as there was somebody good in this world, there would be somebody downright despicable to even it out.

“Not quite, goosebumps.” You smiled sympathetically, wishing that you could lie to her about this like you did about Santa Claus and the ice cream truck being for kids five and older on week days unless explicitly stated otherwise on the light up sign by the door. Your kid is smart, painfully so, but she’s not smart enough to know how to read yet, and that has saved you immensely in the four years that you’ve been watching her glow. You can’t lie about this though, because as much as it’s your job to be the parent now, to let her be a blissfully unaware kid while she still has a chance, you can’t let her be ignorant, because you’re not around all the time, and you’ve seen the end of life come from far smaller things than gun violence or suffocation. ”One of the good guys had an accident. I have to tell my friend Ms. Olivia about it. That’s why we stopped to get the papers, so that she can read them.”

”Oh, okay.” She nodded, a look of genuine pondering on her tiny face. “I can be like a mermaid all the way to the stop sign!” She proclaimed in the next minute, and you know in an instance what that means.

”We’re not going to be mermaids right now. We need to be humans and walk nicely on our feet.” You attempt to remind her, to reel her back into your control, but she’s a spritely little creature with persistently sticky hands, and you’ve lost the battle before you could even put up a fight. Her little body jumps and thrashes at your side, her little feet pretend glued together to make a mermaid tail. It’s adorable, truly it is, but you don’t have time for her tiny little jumps because her legs aren’t even half the length of yours yet. “Etta Lou, we’re walking right now.”

“You’re no fun, Mommy.” She tells you honestly, and you know that she probably means that as sincerely as she can comprehend. Regardless of her disheartened opinion, she does stop hopping at your side, walking at a snail's pace beside you, but it’s still faster than whatever her mermaid pace is.

“Mommy only has to be fun when we get to the park.“ You reasoned, earning yourself a deadpanned glare from the four-year-old. She doesn’t understand sarcasm in this stage of life, but she is a harsh critic with taunting jokes whenever her mood is soured; which it currently is. You don’t budge at her pouting, swinging her up onto your hip when you reach a cross walk, waiting for the red hand to stop flashing. “What number is that?” You redirect, pointing toward the blinking signal sign across the street.

“Seven!” Loretta grins, her feet kicking at your sides as she watches the seconds tick by, distracted from her abruptly cut-off game of walk the mermaid. “Now it says four!”

”I think I know somebody whose four.” You hum, looking hasilty to your left before you cross the street, Loretta seated on your hip contently, tiny hands balling up the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s purple, a light lilac, and it has the name of Loretta’s dance company on the front, a fundraiser from last year's recital — the first one you’d gotten to attend as a mother. It still maintains a spot in your weekly rotation, perfect for days at the park. “Is Daniel from your class four?”

“No, Mommy! I’m four!” She tells you, beaming brightly, her tiny hands on your cheeks, pulling your attention to her when she’s displeased to realize you’re actually paying attention to where you’re walking instead of her eyes that you still can’t believe you made.

”Oh, Charleigh’s four!” You feigned a look of realization, nodding your head in understanding that had your daughter shrieking, shaking her head and giggling manically, the sun tinting her cheeks pink even with the layer of sunscreen you lathered her in before you left the apartment.

“No! Etta’s four! Charleigh’s… how old’s Charleigh, Mommy?” She questioned, and you smiled, kissing her forehead as you climbed the stairs to the precinct, hoping you can keep her distracted until you get inside, knowing how much she’s being loving to tackle the stairs by herself and you don’t have time to painstakingly take each and every one if you stand a chance of getting to the park before the ice cream truck. You have the route memorized. It shows up at one-thirty, bells and whistles ringing, and if there’s nobody left in line for precisely three minutes, he pulls away and another one doesn’t come back until eleven the next day, which you think is actually so obscure considering that’s before most people have lunch ready for their kids.

“Charleigh’s five. We went to her birthday party at the aquarium, remember?” You brushed a hand down her hair, returning her to her feet when she strained, realizing that you’d entered a building she’d never gotten to explore before. “If I let go of your hand, do you run away?”

“No.” Loretta answered, shaking her head like she was shocked you’d think she’d run away from you. You scoff, but oblige, because one day the concepts of trust and consequences are going to click and your life is going to be exponentially easier for establishing these boundaries in any capacity right now.

You let her lead, staying three steps ahead of you because she’s come to learn that she can go that far without you beckoning her back to your side. She takes her independence seriously, but when she reaches the end of the main hallway and doesn’t know where she’s going, she freezes, standing still like a statue in the middle of the path as she looks at you for directions.

“Find the picture of a big angel.” You tell her helpfully, because left and right is still amongst the mountain of things left unlearned. It’s so easy to forget that everything in life is learned until you tell a kid to do something and they take you so literally that you can’t even be mad, or they just stare at you wide eyed until you give more explanation.

“Okay!” She giggles, spinning around, looking right, and then left. You think she missed it, didn’t catch it on the wall in the Sex Crimes hub, but then she points with one tiny little finger painted yellow, and she bolts off like a bolt of lightning, your pre discussed and established rules flying out of her head like they were never there at all. You have to admit that she’d done well, but you don’t say that as you chase after her.

“Etta!” You call, catching up to her when she pauses to closely analyze the picture of the angel, her little hands clasped in front of her as she swings on her feet, forward and backward repetitively.

“Was that a real life angel, Mommy?” She asks, not recognizing the look of exasperation on your face as you stand beside her, fixing the strap of her backpack over your shoulder. The files are zipped away inside, between a bottle of bubbles and two peanut butter sandwiches, no jelly. The change of clothes and spare pull-up in case of emergency keeps it from moving around, but you can only hope that nothing’s pressed or wrinkled a corner in any way.

”Some people think so. Ms. Kathy at school thinks so.” You hum, leading her farther into the precinct, Olivia’s door in sight. You’re about to park her at a bench down the hallway, in your line of sight from the office but out of the way of foot traffic when she gasps and bolts off again, her tiny hands knocking into colorful plastic before you can stop her. You sigh when tiny pieces crash to the floor, her little hands flying up near her head in alarm. “I’m so sorry!” You rush toward Amanda, trying to pull Loretta into your chest and away from the blonde’s desk, but she’s already sinking to the floor and letting her little fingers grip the pieces. You recognize it now. It’s a lego duplo set you’d gotten her for Christmas and have since accompanied and watched be rebuilt at least seventeen times.

“I can fix it!” She beamed, not phased by the embarrassment that flushes your cheeks, or the way you apologize to Amanda for her curiosity and lack of control.

“She has this set at home. It’s one of her favorites.” You explain before you bend down, “We can’t touch other people’s things without asking, Etta. Can you say sorry to Ms. Amanda?”

“Sorry for touchin’, Ms. Amanda.” Loretta frowns, because she knows you’re upset with her now. Apologies are an automatic trigger for tears right now, you hate this bashful, just barely self-aware stage. She knows enough to realize that she did something wrong, and you know she doesn’t understand what embarrassment feels like. but you assume that’s what’s coursing through her as she blushes, shyly raising her head to look at Amanda while she presses close to you.

“Well, that’s alright now.” Amanda brushed it off, because there was no way she could even be slightly annoyed when you were squatting beside her desk looking so horrified even she hoped the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “My little girl made that for me. Her name’s Jesse.”

“My names Etta Lou!” She grins, and you smile too, because there’s no way you can remain stone faced when she looks so proud of herself for getting it right.

“Loretta Louise, right, goosebumps?” You encourage, trying to drill it into her head that despite calling her Etta every day of her life since she’d first been pulled from your womb by forceps and gloved hands, her legal name was Loretta, and people had every right to call her such so she had to at least recognize it.

“Yeah! Loretta Louise, and this is my Mommy.” She points to you, and you laugh, standing up now. Loretta remains on the floor, still holding onto pieces of the scattered duplo.

“I’ve met your Mommy before, she’s very nice.” Amanda winks at you, and your thankful that your cheeks have maintained their warmth, not giving away how that single action makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, Mommy’s nice. She plays fishies good.” Loretta nodded, looking down at the lego, piecing it together with ease. You need to look into getting her some more sets, you figure she must be growing bored of this one at home if she can put it together without even looking at the picture book you lay out next to her and flip through when she demands.

“How do you play fishies?” Amanda asks intrigued, leaning closer to Loretta, her hands on forearms on her knees as leverage.

Loretta’s head shoots up from the pile of legos, and she puckers her lips, framing two hands on either side of her mouth until she’s certain they look just like gills. “Like this!” She mumbles between puckered lips, and Amanda laughs. “Do it Mommy!”

“Mommy has to talk to Ms. Olivia.” You remind her, and Loretta pouts, putting the final piece back on the duplo. She holds it up to Amanda proudly, clearly pleased that her conscience was now free of guilt she couldn’t recognize without your help. “Say bye-bye to Ms. Amanda.”

”You can leave her here.” Amanda smiles, and you falter, not expecting her kindness. You’d done this all on your own for the last four years, and you mean that literally. When your daughter is not at school, she’s with you. You’ve changed every diaper, made every bottle, multi-tasked through every single day and overcompensated just to be Mom, Dad, Boss, and co-worker at the same time. It’s an odd feeling to have someone offer to watch Loretta for you, even if it’s only for five minutes when you’re across the room. “We can hang out while Mommy talks to Ms. Olivia, right?”

Loretta nodded enthusiastically, and you sighed, relenting because if this was the only break you got from constantly being ‘on’ all weekend with Loretta, you’d appreciate every second spent not putting on a mask of happiness and innocence.

“Be good for, Ms. Amanda.” You kiss Loretta's head before you stand up, the backpack still over your shoulder, and you’re almost certain Amanda’s snickering into her palm as she takes in the sight of you stalking toward Benson’s office with a plethora of Disney princesses on your back surrounded by a solid background of pink.

You’d known her for months now, seeing her anytime someone crawled down to the lab for an analysis or update. It wasn’t often Amanda was the one who came down to grovel and beg for you to find a way to get things done faster, but she’d been in enough times for this to feel like healthy, friendly conversation, if not the slightest bit more.

She’d never seen you out of professional attire, and she thinks the black biker shorts and purple company t-shirt is so amusing given the circumstances. You don’t know it, but whatever she’s saying about you has Loretta giggling into her palm, clamoring up into Amanda’s lap with no semblance of stranger danger.

“Cap?” You peak your head into the office, smiling at Olivia who sets her glasses down to give you her attention. “I just got the report back for the Davis case. As of right now, I’m ruling it a homicide. I’m still waiting for the DNA under her fingernails to come back. But the semen found in her underwear is a match to your perp.”

“You’re thinking multiple assailants.” Olivia mused, dropping the documents, now fully intrigued with your medical examination of the body and injuries attained.

“The marks on her neck are only possible if her attacker was behind her, but the lacerations on her belly were made from the front. Like she was pulled into the blade. There had to be at least two people there.” You conclude, because you finally have enough lab testing back to rule conclusively that foul play was involved by at least two suspects.

Olivia sighed, “Thank you.” Her eyebrows raised when you turned the backpack so that you could reach into the big pocket, pulling out the medical file that was thankfully in pristine condition. “You have the day?”

“Yup. I promised someone a trip to the park and a break from preschool. Apparently having someone map out your entire day is exhausting and she needed a break.” You nod out the window, toward the desks where you can see Amanda and your daughter. She’s curled up in the blonde’s lap, both of them with their backs toward you, looking at something on Rollins’ computer that you’re not close enough to decipher.

“Well, I certainly don’t want to keep you.” Benson’s eyes twinkled, and you know she misses these years with Noah even if they hadn’t been that long ago. Her eyes trail to the framed picture on her desk, one from Noah’s sixth birthday, and you only know that because it was her phones background and you’d seen it down at the lab last month when she’d dropped by with Fin.

“The second set of DNA should be back by next week. The labs backed up, and before you tell me to rush it, I already did. The original send back date was three weeks out.” You tell Olivia, and she nods thankfully, before you leave, stalking back toward Amanda and Loretta who aren’t aware of your soft footsteps.

“That’s Jesse’s first birthday party. She had a strawberry cake.” Amanda tells your daughter, and you can finally make out that they’re looking at pictures of her daughter, bright blue eyes and blonde hair evidence of their direct relation.

“Mommy likes strawbaby cake.” Loretta tells her, and you laugh, giving away your presence behind them. She spins around, grinning brightly at you.

“Mommy, that’s Jesse. Ms. Amanda said she’s three! That’s as many as Daisy.” She tells you proudly, and you can tell that although Amanda has no clue who Daisy is, she understands the sentiment of what you’re trying to get across. “Ms. Amanda’s gonna bring her to the park to play bubbles.”

“I think Ms. Amanda still has a lot of work to do. She’s super important, they’d have to close down the park if she went home because she keeps it safe. Jesse can’t come today, goosebumps.” You tell your daughter, and Amanda is surprised at how easily you cover for her, because she absolutely would’ve agreed if you didn’t fill the silence before she had a chance. Damned if she was still on the clock, it had been far too long since Jesse had a playmate who wasn’t a spoiled brat or Noah, and she didn’t think Benson quite had the looks you do, but she didn’t say that part out loud.

“Do you keep the banana store safe too?” Loretta asks, and you smile softly, taking her into your arms when she least expects you to just pluck her up. She hums, surprised, but settles into your embrace comfortably.

“The grocery store. They have more than just bananas, Etta.” You remind her, and she makes a look of realization, nodding her head.

Amanda didn’t miss a beat, reaching out to tickle Loretta’s belly. “I do keep the grocery store safe. I practically keep all of New York safe.”

”Even Mommy and me and Jesse?” She asks, eyes wide. You smile, wondering what your life would be like if you didn’t have her to see the world through. You can’t remember what it was like to be amazed by every little thing and see the world as something kind and ever giving, but Loretta is living in that moment, and she’s showing you thinks that as an adult you’ve become blind to.

“Even Mommy, and you, and Jesse.” Amanda smiles, “Now, I think you and Mommy have somewhere to be. The parks waiting!”

“Bye-bye, Ms. Amanda!” Your daughter needs no further guidance, waving dutifully at Amanda before she wraps her arms around your neck, apparently deeming her legs out of commission for the time being.

“Bye-bye, Etta Lou.” There’s always an underlying twang of southern hospitality in Amanda’s charming tone, but there’s something utterly delectable in the way your daughters name rolls off her tongue so smoothly and sweetly. There’s a rhythmic pattern in the way the two names fall off her tongue, sounding so perfectly cohesive it remind you of why you’d given her this name four years ago. You’d liked the way it sounded then, but it feels like you’re hearing it in a whole new way right now.

“Thank you.” You say again, because you’ll never be able to express enough how much it’s meant to you for her to show Loretta so much kindness and patience even when she’d come in like a bulldozer.

“She’s a cute kid.” Amanda tells you, and you think that’ll get a reaction out of your daughter, she’s ever the ham, drawn to compliments as if you’d deprived her of them her entire life, but she’s otherwise absorbed with waving to Olivia through the window, and you can only assume Olivia’s waving back because Loretta changes her strategy, pulling some kind of funny face as she stretches out her lips.

“She’s free.” You tease, and Amanda knows that’s all that it is. Even if she hadn’t known about your daughter before this moment, never having a reason to bring it up before or even begin to think you had anyone at home or specifically who it was, but now that she had seen you with Loretta, she knows you love her with your entire being.

“Oh, I’m good with two.” Amanda laughs, dropping her hands to her belly, and that’s when you take in her rounded tummy and swollen knuckles. There’s an undeniable water weight to her face, her nose just slightly contorted to where it’s noticeable if you know what you’re looking for. That’s why she hasn’t been down to the lab. She’s playing her cards right and getting literally anyone else to go down for her.

“Congratulations.” You coo, your head tilting, melting at her admission. There’s no ring on her finger, you don’t even know why you’re looking, but it’s an automatic response and you don’t recognize your doing it until you breathe a sigh of relief at the empty search. “Ms. Amanda has a baby in her belly.” You tell Loretta, who finally looked away from the window and turned her attention back to you and Amanda.

“Is it a girl baby?” Loretta asks, because her obsession is girl babies, not boy babies. She’d come home saying she doesn’t like boy babies a month ago, and after a very confused conversation with her teacher, you’d come to find out another little girl in her class is expecting a baby brother, and it was about the end of the world when she found out it was not going to be a sister the Sunday before school resumed after easter break. You’d been trying to work that out of her head since, but apparently this girl and her unborn baby brother have enough tension to still be a conversational point weeks later.

“It is a girl.” Amanda smiles, and Loretta nods.

“Park now Mommy.” She whines, evidently bored with the conversation now that it didn’t revolve around cake flavors or the lego duplo sets Amanda has back at the apartment for Jesse.

You say goodbye to Amanda, hoping that you can find another reason to stop by the precinct sometime soon.

A week and a half later, you have the second set of DNA results back, and just as you’d expected to be the case, the results were not a match to the suspect already in custody. There was good news attached to your break in the case however, and that good news came in the form of his name already being in the system for petty crime at nineteen.

You manage through the precinct a lot quicker without your daughter, but it feels like something’s missing as you trek through the halls holding onto the manila folder containing your lab reports. You’d come straight from the lab, a crossbody bag slung over your shoulder and your professional attire dampening your radiant personality.

Your eyes sought to find Amanda, but she didn’t turn up at her desk or anywhere in sight as you walked to Olivia’s office. You didn’t want to say you were disappointed, but you’d be lying if you said a twang of disappointment didn’t shoot through you at her absence. For a moment, you wondered if everything was okay with the baby, and with Jesse, but then you remembered that you don’t know her well enough to be concerning yourself with her personal affairs even if she had spared five minutes of her day to show your child kindness and that was more than anyone had done for you in a long time.

“Here’s the other report.” You tell Olivia, and she hums. Her energy is depleted, her tired eyes looking up from yet another pile of documents that you’re sure need her immediate attention because everything in these lines of work do. “That second set of DNA is to Forrest McClain.”

“Thank you, really. You didn’t have to walk these over.” Olivia couldn’t express her gratitude effectively enough, but you wave her off regardless.

“It’s no problem. It would’ve been another handful of hours, and your case is getting colder the longer you waste time. Is everything okay though? The mood in here is kind of… more suffocating than usual.” You were closet with Benson, that’s just what came with the territory given you were the Lead ME and she was the Captain. You worked together often, either at the scene or through emails from your lab. It wasn’t abnormal for you to be checking in.

“Rough case with ICE and Amanda.” Olivia sighed, “She’s taking it… not well.” Olivia grimaces and you sympathize, knowing that any case emotional enough to rattle Benson is never a good sign, but there’s something that you can recognize that Olivia can’t — raging emotions while pregnant. You’d never pin it against the Captain, but she can’t even begin to understand what it feels like to have your world turned upside down when you already feel like all your emotions are one sneeze from shooting out of your popped and swollen belly button.

“She still around?” You asked, and Olivia smiled, nodding her head and informing you that Amanda was attempting to sulk her sadness away in the break room.

You stopped by the vending machine before you found the break room down the hall, exactly where Olivia had told you it would be across from the main interrogation room. You knocked on the doorframe before entering, watching Amanda with careful eyes.

She sat hunched over the table, her head in her hands, tears evident on her cheeks even though she tried to hide any evidence of her emotional state with her hands, the apples of her cheeks concealed by swollen fingers. She’s wearing a blazer, black, and slacks of the same shade. The monotone outfit is surprise from her, but it makes her figure pop, the definition in her bump undeniable even if the sleek outfit does it’s best to slim her down when shadows hit her right.

“I heard you’re having a rough time.” You start,and Amanda laughs humorlessly, scrubbing the evidence of her meltdown off of her cheeks to instead glance at you curiously. “Mind if I join you? Thursdays are storytime days at daycare, Etta won’t mind getting another hour of Hansel and Gretel.”

Amanda nodded, motioning to the chair at her side. You smile softly, stalking near enough to drop the snacks you’d purchased in front of her before you grabbed the back of the chair, pulling it out just enough to get your body into it.

“My cravings with Etta were insane. I was eating all the time, from the first trimester to the last. Fritos were an unexpected delicacy, and you need something sweet to finish up, so I grabbed some donuts. You don’t strike me as a chocolate person.”

Amanda smiled, reaching for the bag of Fritos. She pulled it open like she hadn’t eaten at all that day, and you grinned. “Not a chocolate person.” She confirms, and you hum, knowing you were correct but glad to have solid confirmation. “I was gonna take her. I would’ve. ICE… Stone made a deal, somehow. He got her back with her mother, but if that didn’t happen, I would’ve taken her.” Amanda rambles, and you’re still at a loss for most of the details, but you have enough information to see the full picture. Your heart breaks for her a little bit, but you know that most of her let down has to do with the fact that she’s months away from meeting her baby and at this state, everything feels colossal. That doesn’t negate her want to open her home. You’re sure that whether she was pregnant or not she would’ve wanted to help however she could, but the current state of her womb doesn’t help matters.

“What happened to two being enough for you?” You tease, because you take Amanda for the type to rely on humor in dark times, and it doesn’t fail you. Her shoulders jump with her inhale, a breathy sound floating off of her tongue that’s not quite a genuine laugh, but does something to lighten her mood at least.

“No, I… I’d be okay with three. I’ve thought about three more this week than I have in my life, and I’d be okay with it.” She breathes out, and her eyes flicker up to yours. You think there’s something more there, in her unspoken words, but you’re not sure.

“And there will be plenty of time for three. But, this girl has a Mom. It may not be what you want to hear, but it’s a good thing when too many people have the best thing of a child at heart. It’s a good thing that you care enough to have yourself all worked up in a break room. You impacted that girls life, Amanda. You know how I know that? Because Etta spent a fraction of the time with you and you’re all she wants to talk about. What’s Ms. Amanda’s favorite color? Does Ms. Amanda let Jesse have ice cream on Saturday? Ms. Amanda has legos on her desk, Mommy, you can put legos on yours! So, thank you for that. You’re the reason there’s astronaut legos crowding my already minimal desk space now.” You tease, and Amanda smiles wide, finally beginning to crack, to come down from the high of overwhelming sadness.

“I’ve never… in all of my years on this job, I’ve never met a kid I connected with like that. It scared me. It scares me to think that there’s so little keeping that from being Jesse, Etta, this baby. One wrong move, and who do they have? You have somebody at home?” Amanda asks with tears gleaming in her eyes.

“No.” You shake your head, breathing deeply, because if you hadn’t had the same panicked fear rush through you a million times, you’d be somebody else. “No, it’s just me and Etta. It’s always been just me and Etta.”

“It’s just me and Jesse.. or, it’s just me, Jesse, and this baby.” Amanda’s hand falls to her bump, and you frown.

“Well, then how about we change that?” You perked up, reaching a hand out toward her. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Amanda frowns, but she complies with your request regardless, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her phone, swiping it open past a picture of her and Jesse on Halloween.

“If your girls need someone and you’re not around, my contract hours end at four unless I’m on call and needed at a scene.” You tell her simply, taking her phone and putting your number into it’s contacts, feeling bold, uncharacteristically so. “It’s good if you need anything too, you know. Maybe some pickles. Pickles were what I craved most.”

”God, pickles sound good.” Amanda grounds and you giggle, glad to see that you’ve roused her from her fit at least temporarily. “Here, give me your phone. Maybe we can get the girls together for pizza one night.”

”Loretta’s only stipulation will be that we order garlic bread too.” You tell her, because it’s easier to say yes if you use your child as a buffer, and Amanda laughs wetly at your flushed state. You hand your phone over the second after, giggling when Amanda makes a sound of awe at your home screen, a picture from two years ago with Etta passed out in her laundry basket.

“I’m not…I’m not reaching if I ask you to dinner without the girls, am I?” Amanda asked after a beat, her hands still holding her phone, like she’s trying to delay giving it back and letting the conversation end.

You smile timidly, your bottom lip bitten as you glance down at the table, feeling your stomach churn with butterflies at her proposition. “No… no you wouldn’t be reaching.” You admitted, and Amanada nodded, smiling fondly.

”Good. Okay.” Amanda smiled, nodding her head a bit dumbly. You giggled, taking your phone back and sliding it into your pocket.

“Okay.” You mimicked, and Amanda’s eyes rolled fondly, her cheeks tinting pink. “I’ll text you later?”

“I’ll be waiting.” She sang, and you laughed, shaking your head as you stood up from the table, beginning to back out of the squad room with one last glance at the donuts and fritos you left on the table for her. “Bye, Amanda.”

Amanda waved, her mouth full of the curved and salty chips. You laughed softly, backing out of the room without another word, because you’re sure if you said anything else, like that Amanda looks good with her hair falling around her face, not contained by a hair tie, she’d have kept you in that squad room forever and neither one of you ever wouldn’t gotten back to your girls.

At eight o’clock, after an eventful dinner time and bath time, you’d finally gotten Loretta down for the night. You reached for your phone after you’d cleared the dishes and prepared her lunchbox for the morning, eager to text Amanda, but she’d apparently texted you first, a notification lighting up your home screen.

You grinned at the simple text that said ‘Home’, but what really made your lips pull was the selfie she’d taken with Jesse over dinner, which looked to be spaghetti and meatballs. Jesse was splatted with tomato sauce, her blonde hair twinged pink from where little fingers had rubbed saunders into thin strands. She’s probably fighting a losing battle in the bath with the toddle right now, but you text back anyways, a selfie of yourself in front of the three sippy cups you’d washed the daycare requires two cups of water for all children at the start of the day, and Etta had a specific cup in mind for dinner tonight.

Amanda doesn’t get back to you until almost ten o’clock, telling you that Jesse had decided to find a second wind somewhere between bath time and the third book they’d read, so she’d been spending the last hour and a half trying to redo their entire bedtime routine. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but the start of something new was upon you after years of no change.

#amanda rollins #detective amanda rollins #olivia benson #amanda rollins x reader #amanda rollins x you #amanda rollins fluff #amanda rollins comfort #amanda rollins fic #olivia benson x reader #law and order: svu

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siggiedraws · 4 months ago

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I'd love to hear more about your view on Sonic too! What do you like (and dislike, if you want) most about him?🍀

There are so many things I love about him it's hard to choose! But a few things do come to mind:

1) Sonic's willingness to help others no matter what, like when Sonic decides to help rescue a girl's village from a dragon in Black Knight despite the fact that this would cause him to run out of time to do Nimue's tasks (luckily, that was actually a test that Sonic passed!) The fact that Sonic just wants to save people who need saving, no matter if that's an inconvenience to him, shows how compassionate and selfless he is. Not to mention his line to Chip where he says "Do I need a reason to want to help out a friend?" makes me emotional every time. He helps people simply because he wants to!

2) Sonic's thrill-seeking nature. He'll do crazy shit just because it's fun and dangerous and you can tell he just lives for it. He sounds so happy and excited whenever it happens that it's really cute. This is very much highlighted in the Storybook games, where Sonic's companion characters often express their chagrin at how reckless Sonic is. This moment in Pirate Storm and this moment in Molten Mine are my favourite examples.

I would say Sonic's thrill-seeking is emboldened by the fact that he faces death head-on and isn't afraid. When he's about to die in Sonic Adventure 2, he keeps his cool and he calmly holds the fake Chaos Emerald, wondering if he can make it through. In Secret Rings, at the realization that the Flame of Judgment's time limit is almost up, he chuckles to himself and apologizes to Shahra for worrying her. This is extremely telling of his selfless character and his lack of self-preservation. Even in death he's not thinking about himself. He's focused on cheering up his friend.

It's something I find very fascinating, for someone who enjoys living so much to lack a fear of death. Though, I would argue that it does bother him on the inside, if even a little bit, going by the lyrics of Unawakening Float: Must I float away? / Will I ever wake?

3) Sonic's love for life and the world around him. Sonic's always fighting to preserve and protect nature from Dr. Eggman's industrialization, and environmental awareness is a prominent theme in the Sonic franchise, so it makes sense that's what Sonic's all about! He remarks in Heroes that he loves Grand Metropolis, for instance, which is a huge eco-friendly city with no pollution. Also, in a 2022 Q&A, Sonic says that restoring all the levels in Generations reminded him of how great the world is, which is genuinely so sweet! 💙

As for Sonic's love for life, the thing with Sonic is that he doesn't have any ultimate goals in life or any dream to achieve. When it comes to living life to the fullest, he exists in the moment and enjoys the present day. He does what makes him happy right here and right now. In other words, he's content without a destination, and he enjoys the never-ending journey. There is a lot I can learn from him!

4) His mystery! What is Christmas Island like? How did he and Eggman first meet? Just who the hell is this guy? No one knows, but Sonic will tell you he's just a normal hedgehog, which may very well be true. There are little hints here and there that point towards the symbolism of his origins, like his folded boots being inspired by Santa Claus, which is why they're red and white with a buckle! I find that such a cool detail. I love the vagueness of his past and I hope it stays that way.

Speaking of Sonic and mystery, did you know that there's a character called Uhu the Wind Genie in Sonic and the Secret Rings, who is known for his speed, and we never see his true form? I wonder who that could be an analogue to...

As for what I dislike about Sonic, that's much harder to answer because I love him so much. Every aspect about him is perfect to me! I suppose if I had to choose one thing… he can just leave without notice for an extended period of time, as seen in the end of Sonic Advance, and that can be very worrying. He's an independent guy and he likes alone time, but I can imagine how his behaviour could frustrate the people around him. Tails flying in the Tornado trying to look for him in the sky breaks my heart.

anyways... I love Sonic so much as you could tell. Thanks so much for your ask! 💙

#sonic characterization #ask

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justsomerandomfanfic · 6 months ago

Text

It's A Date - Jack O'Malley X Female Reader

Title: It's A Date

Jack O'Malley X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Santa Claus (Nick), Callum, Garcia, M.C (Mrs. Claus) (Mentioned), Dylan (Mentioned), Zoe (Mentioned), Gryla (Mentioned), the Reindeer (Mentioned), and Christmas elves (Mentioned)

WC: 3,485

Warnings: Post-canon movie events, mentions of slight family difficulties, magic, very brief mentions of canon kidnapping, banter, teasing, flirting?, confessions, nicknames, italics, mini angst?, fluff

As soon as you heard that your father had been kidnapped, you made your way to the North Pole as fast as you possibly could. Though, it was a bit difficult. Being Santa Claus’s daughter, some might have thought that it would be easy traveling from place to place. Santa was able to visit all the good children in the world with presents in one night, why couldn't you - his own flesh and blood daughter - be able to get to the North Pole after you heard he got kidnapped?

It was simple really- actually, no, it wasn't that simple.

Your relationship with your magical gift-giving Christmas spirit Kris Kringle father wasn't as cheery and jolly as some people might have thought. You loved him dearly, and he loved you, but your opinions and ideas clashed periodically. Not often, but it still happened. And it did usually end with you leaving the room and hiding out somewhere else for a couple of days. You’d just either stay with Cal or Garcia, really.

However, you wanted to go out and see the world, to keep a long story short. For more than just a night of gift-giving, and more than just the mall in Philadelphia. You wanted to walk the streets, shop at the stores, make more friends… In all honesty, you wanted to move out.

That's where you and your father differed. While you wished to live among the humans, your father wished for you to stay with him at home and help him and your mother. He didn't want you to leave. Your place was with the team, with your friends, with your family. Who else would be the head of the gift wrapping department?

To be honest, you were tired of gift wrapping. Who wouldn’t be?

No, you didn’t lose your Christmas spirit, nor did you lose your love for it. You just wished for a change of scenery. You wanted to experience something new. And finally, at the age of sixty - to humans you looked as if you were in your early twenties - and after some consistent begging, your father allowed you to join the human world.

You packed up most of your belongings; clothes, helpful gadgets, and whatnot before you headed off. You found yourself in California, enjoying the sun and the heat - polar opposites from the cold and the snow that you were so used to. You had gotten a job, made friends, got a place to live - a nice apartment, close to the mall, a toy store, and a library. You were enjoying your life, you were enjoying the world around you. And you always made sure to visit your family and friends in the North Pole during the holidays.

However, this all came with a price…

You had noticed that the longer you stayed in the human world, away from the safety of the North Pole, the more you felt your powers draining… You could still teleport through toy stores, see the magic of the holiday, and a few others things… But there was just something… Off.

Anyway, getting back to it, when you got the call from Zoe that your father had been kidnapped mere hours away from Christmas Eve, you almost dropped your coffee.

You rescheduled everything you had for the next week or so, not knowing what was fully happening. All Zoe said was that your father had been kidnapped and to come to the North Pole as soon as possible.

When you arrived, you were greeted by your mother who quickly enveloped you in her arms. She explained everything to you, seeing how you were sputtering questions out left and right. Was he alright? What about Christmas? What happened? Is everyone okay..?

You sat with your mother in the control room, waiting impatiently as the sun slowly began to rise. You knew that she said that he was okay, that he was alive and breathing, but you had to see him to be sure.

As word spread that he was landing soon, you ran all the way to the landing bay, fiddling with your hands in front of you as you waited. The sight of the reindeer and sleigh made you let out a deep sigh of relief. The eight, large reindeer galloped to a stop, huffing and shaking their heads after a long run around the entire world, and previous fight with Gryla. You noted to yourself to make sure that they had gotten more carrots, and pets.

Speeding your way over to the sleigh, your eyes landed on the two new people, then Cal, then to your father. His eyes met yours, the grin resurfacing as he hopped off the sleigh and opened his arms out to you. You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes into a glare before punching him in the shoulder.

He let out a mix between an ‘ow’ and a chuckle. He knew you weren't angry at him, he knew that you were just worried about him. “Good to see you too.”

You rolled your eyes before falling into his arms. Hugging him tight, you squeezed your eyes shut. Pulling back, you looked up at him with a smile, “You better be okay.” Your eyes then landed on Callum, and you gave him a nod, before you then spotted the two strangers. Your head tilted to the side as you looked at the two curiously. “You're new.”

“Ah,” Your father spoke up, “This,” He gestured to the man and the young teenager with a hand, “This is Jack, and his son, Dylan.” He introduced you to them, “They - along with Cal - saved me. And Christmas, along with it.”

You raised an eyebrow, you turned your gaze to your father, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Cal spoke up, hoping off the sleigh, “Couldn't have done it without them.” He gave Jack and Dylan a grateful grin before looking back at you. “Welcome back, kid.” He raised his hand, ruffling your hair teasingly, making you huff and jokingly hitting his hand away before he began to leave the landing bay.

“Well,” You began, walking over to the two humans that saved your dad. “Thank you for saving him. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Hey,” Your father interjected, “I can take care of myself, you know.”

You sighed, nodding, “Yeah, sure, sure. Why don't you go get something to eat? You must be hungry.” You suggested, looking back over at the man as he let out an amused sigh of faux defeat, his hand going up in the air briefly before he began to walk away.

“Hey, Dylan!” You heard your dad yell, your head turning to see him at the stairs, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Want to see how the tinsel is made?”

With a grin and within a flash, the teenager Dylan ran past you, running up the stairs with your dad. You sighed, rubbing your cheek as you raised your gaze to meet the man in front of you.

“Jack, right?” You offered out your hand to him, smiling almost bashfully. “Thank you again for your help. I truly appreciate it. You have no idea. And, sorry for the trouble.”

Jack’s grin widened as he took your hand into yours, shaking it, “Yeah, it’s Jack. Jack O'Malley. And you don't need to thank me or apologize, miss…”

“Claus,” You grinned, not even minding how your hand was still shaking his, “Y/N Claus.”

~~~

Jack stood at the small cabin home at the near center of the North Pole. The place where it all began. Leaning against the glass railing, he stared at the old factory but he was lost in thought.

For the past couple of days Jack had been staying at the North Pole as Nick’s special guest, allowing him to stay and roam about the North Pole as a huge thank you for saving him and Christmas. Jack was surprised that Nick trusted him enough not to steal anything, but Jack knew better - he learned his lesson, he wouldn’t steal from Father Christmas.

He was more than happy to stay for a couple of days, he wanted to know more about the process. It also gave him the chance and the excuse to spend more time with you.

Santa Claus's daughter…

He wasn’t expecting Santa to have a daughter. And he definitely wasn’t expecting Santa’s daughter to be so gorgeous. Yeah, Santa was ripped, but still, he wasn’t expecting it…

Anyway, you gave him a proper tour of, well, almost everything; showing him the tinsel room, toy room, gift wrapping room, but at some point, you both found yourselves wandering outside. Feet stepping upon the snow-covered ground, snowflakes sprinkling from the sky, falling onto your hair and eyelashes. Conversation and questions quickly diverted from toy making and Christmas, to each other.

And the more time he spent with you, over the passing days, the more he was beginning to really like you. Like a lot. A lot more than he had expected. But how does one even go about asking the daughter of Santa Claus out on a date?

He was conflicted. Staring at the small factory, he wondered if you'd even go for a guy like him. A level 4 naughty-lister. Well, he didn't know if he was on the naughty list anymore, but still. He was conflicted. He wasn’t… Well…

“Hey,” The deep voice beside him startled Jack slightly as he snapped his head to the side, eyes immediately landing on Nick.

Jack cleared his throat, turning back to the small factory, “Oh, hey,” He copied.

There was a moment of silence before Nick spoke up again, “Something on your mind?” He asked and Jack shook his head, a nervous chuckle leaving him.

“Oh, no, no,” He chuckled out, “Just admirin’ the architecture.” Nick hummed, and Jack could tell that he didn't believe him. “I'm tellin’ the truth. The, uh,” He waved a hand in the air towards the building vaguely, “The archway has good detailin’.”

Nick glanced over at Jack, “You know, not only do I have the power of knowing when children are sleeping and when children are awake, but I have the incredible talent of knowing when people are lying.” His grin widened as he noticed Jack shuffle nervously in place from his side view.

He sighed, his eyes flickering to parts of the factory's exterior. He didn't know if it was the chill in the air or if his cheeks were always this warm. “So, I-” Might as well rip off the bandage, “I…” Nope, moment gone. He lost his confidence.

Nick hummed once more, nodding as he looked at his old factory. “You know… She likes you too.”

“What?” Jack’s gaze snapped back over at the centuries old man, his eyes wide, both in confusion and surprise. “Who?”

Nick chuckled softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Oh, come on, Jack. You think I don’t see the way she looks at you? Or how your face lights up whenever she’s around?”

Jack’s jaw opened and closed - like a fish out of water - he was trying to form words, but none of them were really sticking. “I- what? No,” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s- she doesn't-”

Nick raised a single brow, the weight of his centuries of wisdom practically radiating off of him. “She does,” He said plainly, his tone teasing but still sincere.

Jack ran a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle. “C’mon, she’s Santa Claus’s daughter. She’s your daughter. And I’m...” He trailed off, gesturing at himself like that explained everything. Jack hesitated from saying anything more, his fingers tightening into fists at his side. But, Nick understood.

Nick crossed his arms, “And you’re what? The guy who helped save me and Christmas? The guy who stepped up when it mattered most? Who didn’t up and leave when things got tough or possible death was on the line? Jack, you’re more than you give yourself credit for.”

Jack blinked, taken aback by the somewhat sudden praise. “I mean… I guess I did help,” He muttered, his tone softening.

Nick’s smile widened, “Not just help - you made a difference. You’ve got a good heart, Jack. That’s what matters. And if you think she doesn’t see that, then you’re not giving her enough credit either.”

Jack swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. He nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a faint, nervous, and unsure smile. And Nick didn’t need to fully spell anything out, the unspoken message was clear - he wasn’t going to stand in Jack’s way if he went forth and asked you out.

“Thanks, Nick,” Jack finally said, only for the big man in question to clap him on the shoulder, a hearty chuckle leaving him.

“Call me, ‘Dad’, Jack,” He said with a wink, “Y/N should be over in the gift wrapping department. Now, go on. The cocoa won’t drink itself.” He said before strolling off, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts and a glimmer of hope.

Did he just get Santa Claus’s blessing?

~~~

Jack may have gotten a bit lost, but he was able to find ‘The Gift Wrapping Department.’ The golden plaque above the double doors made him sigh with relief. However, that relief was not enough to still his racing heart. It thudded in his chest as he stood there for a moment, trying to shake the nerves creeping up on him, making his skin prickle.

With a deep breath, he pushed open one of the doors to the room, the faint scent of peppermint and wrapping paper came wafting out at his face as he stepped inside. The place was bustling, elves darting back and forth with rolls of ribbons and sheets of colorful, festive wrapping paper. In the center of the chaos, however, was you.

You were leaning casually against a worktable, locked in an intense game of rock-paper-scissors - very fitting, Jack thought - with Garcia, the polar bear. “Alright, ready? Rock, paper, scissors!” Garcia exclaimed, only to lose with a loud groan when you threw scissors against his paper.

“Yes!” You cheered, pumping a fist in victory. “That’s three in a row, Gar. Admit it, I am the reigning champion.”

Garcia huffed, crossing his bear arms, “I demand a rematch later. There is now way you’re that good at this game.”

Jack couldn’t help but grin as he leaned against the doorframe, amused. “Rock-paper-scissors champion, huh?” He finally spoke up, drawing your attention.

You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his chest tighten. “Oh, hey, Jack!” You said, your smile widening as you spoke, “Don’t tell me you’re here to challenge my title, too.”

Garcia huffed as he walked past the both of you, giving Jack a playful punch on the shoulder. “Good luck, buddy. You’re gonna need it,” He teased before heading off to another part of the room.

Jack winced, rubbing his shoulder. “Ow,” He muttered under his breath, shooting a half-hearted glare at Garcia’s retreating back. “Thanks, Garcia,” Jack deadpanned but when his gaze flickered back to you, he couldn’t help but grin, the sting now forgotten. “Nah, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Nick- er, your dad- said that you might be here. Thought I’d come find you.”

“Well, you found me,” You said warmly, “What’s up?” Jack opened his mouth to respond but stopped short, the words catching in his throat. For a guy who was usually quick with his wit, he found himself completely thrown off by the way that you were looking at him - patient, curious, and kind. You tilted your head slightly, noticing his hesitation. “Come on,” You said, nodding towards the far side of the room. “Let’s talk in my office. It’s quieter there, less hustle-bustle.”

You led Jack into your office, and he couldn’t help but notice how festive it was. But, it made sense. Twinkling lights were strung across the walls, casting a soft, warm glow over the room. A small tree in the corner was decorated with silver ornaments, and a few carefully placed garlands added to the holiday cheer. The walls were lined with quirky movie posters surprisingly, some vintage and others more recent. One, in particular, caught his eye: a retro ‘Home Alone’ poster. And in the far corner, a small table was set up with a cocoa and coffee station, the rich smell of chocolate and coffee beans filled the air. The atmosphere was cozy, and inviting.

Walking towards the cocoa maker, you glanced over your shoulder, “Cocoa or coffee?” You asked, gesturing to the machine with a mug in your hand.

“Uh, cocoa, yeah. Thanks.” Jack nodded, that cute smile forming on his lips as he watched you nod and turn back to the machine. With a few taps and switches, the cocoa was steaming from two mugs.

"So," You began, turning to hand Jack his warm mug that had a picture of Santa on it, you leaned against your desk, and Jack joined you, sitting beside you on the said desk. "What did you want to tell me?" You asked, looking up at him as you took a sip from your mug, that said ‘World’s Best Daughter’ on it.

Jack cleared his throat, struggling to focus as the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights played across your face. The gentle light illuminated the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, and the sparkle in your eyes, sending a tightness through his chest he couldn’t quite ignore.

“Right,” He muttered, he took a quick sip of his cocoa, and god, it was delicious, “This is amazin’.” He stared down at his cocoa in awe. Not too hot and not too cold. It was perfect. “What is in this cocoa? Christmas magic?”

“No,” You chuckled out, amused, “Just the regular kind we have here. Though I do add a dash of peppermint into my cocoas. I think it enhances the flavor.”

“Oh,” Jack nodded, agreeing, “It definitely does.” He took another sip. “I can’t remember the last time I had cocoa.”

You tilted your head to the side, a couple of our fingers tapping against the side of your mug, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, almost bittersweet, “It’s definitely been a couple of years. I’m a bit more of a coffee guy.”

“I can totally see that,” You smiled warmly, before taking a slow sip from your drink. "A bit of sugar, a dash of creamer." You commented after swallowing. "And just a tiny pinch of cinnamon, maybe?"

Jack grinned at that, a feeling of warmth spreading through him, “Maybe,” He agreed easily, setting down the empty mug.

You had to admit, Jack was hard to ignore. Tall, with rugged charm that was undeniably attractive. He had this warmth to him that made him easy to talk to, and you couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous he was, especially when he smiled. That grin of his? It was like sunshine breaking through the clouds on a beautiful winter morning. The sight made your heart skip a beat every time. But it also reminded you that you shouldn’t keep staring.

Clearing your throat, you shifted in your seat so that you could meet Jack’s eyes. Not fully expecting him to already be looking at you. You could feel your cheeks flush under his piercing blue eyes as they held yours. You felt your stomach flip slightly as you reached out a hand, cupping his chin, your thumb brushing along the corner of his lips. "Sorry," You immediately began to feel a wave of nervousness wash over you, "You had a bit of cocoa on you."

You went to drop your hand, but Jack surprised you as he reached up to grab your hand with his; his touch sent a jolt through your body. "Y/N..," He began, and his voice sounded like deep velvet, “Would you want to maybe-” You held your breath, “Maybe get some food sometime? Or… Just hang out.” Jack finally softly blurted out, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “Dang it, Jack,” You laughed nervously, “I would love that.” You quickly replied, your heart racing.

Jack's eyes widened slightly, "Really?... You mean it?"

"Yes!" You chirped, "Of course! I mean I was kind of hoping you'd ask me sooner or later." You admitted softly, biting your lip slightly as you tried to fight away the shy smile that threatened to creep onto your lips.

He let out an exhale he didn't even know he was holding in, relieved. "Oh... Good, cool..." Jack’s grin widened, the nerves melting away as he squeezed your hand gently. "It’s a date then.”

"It's a date." You replied, your smile brightening as you gently squeezed his hand back.

~~~

(Should I write a part 2?)

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widowmaxff · 1 year ago

Text

the magic of christmas

pairings: natasha romanoff × daughter!reader | aunt!wanda maximoff × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, happy ending?, natasha being a really bad mother, reader sees wanda as a mother figure, really mom issues!

a/n: this was supposed to came out on christmas lmao sorry

You hated Christmas. But not just it, you hated all the celebrations that reminded you that you had no one to spend it with. You hated seeing all those kids opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Maybe you just wanted that too. Maybe you just wanted a normal family. If you had a father would things be normal? Or maybe if it weren't you who came out of your mother's womb, maybe if it were someone else the family would be normal.

When you discovered that all that magic didn't exist, you were a kid, around seven years old. At that time you were at the Avengers Compound, the place was completely decorated while you stared open-mouthed at all those decorations. In the small apartment where you and your mother lived, it was not decorated like the big Tower. Natasha didn't care about that. So, you ran to every room in that big place to admire every bit of it. Soon, you arrived at the kitchen with your light steps and noticed your mother and uncle Steve talking with their backs to you.

“What did Y/n ask for for Christmas this year?” Rogers asks making you stop on your feet as you listened to their conversation.

"I don't know." your mother says. "Wanda always comes to my apartment a few days before to read the letter and buy her what she asked for." Your Auntie Wanda was your favorite person. She seemed to be the only one who cared about you. She was the one who helped you with your homework, who asked if you were okay, who knew your favorite food, color, movie, book and song. She knew everything a mother should know, that Natasha didn't know.

You never asked Natasha to help you with your homework, you never asked her if she would like to play with you or just watch a movie, because you knew she would say no. Since you gained awareness of your own mind and memories, you cannot remember any time when Natasha wished she was your mother.

"You should care about her a little more, you know." Your mother just takes a deep breath, she was starting to get annoyed talking about you.

"I didn't want a kid in the first place."

And it was on that day that you realized that this magic never existed, but Wanda did everything she could to make it exist in you. May you have a normal childhood that your mother would never give you.

That Christmas morning, all the Avengers were gathered around the Christmas tree, including you, who was sitting next to Wanda of course. Each of them opened some of the gifts scattered around while you just watched, quieter than usual. "Now it's your turn, my love." Your Auntie mutters to you, while all eyes were fixed on you. Walking to the tree and picking up your gift, you notice a letter attached to it that a little later that day you would read.

'From: Santa Claus

To: The Brilliant Y/n Romanoff'

It said on the package. You laugh for a second, knowing at that moment and from then on that the one who really would have given that to you was your Auntie Wanda. You delicately open the paper, trying to surprise it even though you knew what was underneath. Your eyes lit up when you saw the large plush of a white bunny with pink details. You never asked for expensive toys and things for Christmas, because you knew there were children in the world who deserved much more than you.

"He's so beautiful, I loved it." You spoke almost like a whisper, but the people around you could still hear you. You stroke the rabbit's soft white fur while smiling broadly. Your eyes stop on Wanda for a moment, who appreciated you with bright and affectionate eyes, happy to also make you happy. "Thank you so much, Auntie Wanda. I really love him."

The smile on Wanda's face disappears when you finish your speech. How did you know she was the one who bought you the gift? Was it that age when children stopped believing in Santa Claus? "Oh." Someone murmurs among the circle of people, falling into total silence as you get to your feet and return to your starting place. Laying your head on her shoulder, still stroking the bunny that became yout best companion on your days alone.

At that moment even your mother was silent, but her eyes never met you. But it doesn't change the fact that Natasha has a great eye, of course, she was once a assassin. You just wished that one time, she would use it to look at you.

You remember arriving at your apartment that same evening with your new stuffed animal clutched to your chest. You enter your room and sit on your bed. The letter that Wanda wrote - or that Santa wrote - was in your hands as you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. You open the envelope and notice the handwriting, with perfect letters.

'Dear Y/n Romanoff,

Over the year, I have observed your good behavior and the wonderful things you have done. Your kindness, generosity and efforts to be a better person did not go unnoticed. It fills me with joy to know that there are children as special and unique as you in the world.

I came here through this letter to tell you how important and special you are! Never forget that every day you bring great pride to everyone in your family, especially your mother. They are extremely grateful to have you by their side. They love you very much. Remember to always be that sweet and understanding girl that you are. Your smile and your laugh are bright and you should never stop showing them.

I hope you like your gift which I and someone who loves you dearly, chose from our hearts!

Lots of love, Santa.'

You read those words as if it were Wanda who had write, and it was really her. So the comfort of the lyrics made that magic of Christmas still be in your head, even if it was in the deep layers of your mind. You loved your Autie so much, and the way she wrote about you made you think that maybe some day Natasha would see you the way Wanda does. Your Auntie would always say that you were the most understanding girl in the world. You weren't sure about that, you just knew your mother couldn't take one more burden thing in her life.

And the next year, there was no letter for Santa on the table beside your bed.

Now you were 16, almost ten years since that magic ended for you. It was Christmas Eve again and you just wanted this season to pass. Your room was dark and you really thought about just spending the day lying in bed like some other days. But still, you got up.

You knew you wouldn't find your mother somewhere in the apartment, she was never here. It had been almost a week since you knew anything about her or had seen her. Natasha was probably on some mission or maybe she just didn't want to be breathing the same air as you, why would she want to? And it wasn't like you wanted to see her either. Every time you looked at or remembered her, your eyes begged to release tears.

It had been a few years since you really gave up trying to have her as a mother and having any hope that one day she would treat you like a daughter. So even if you met in some room in the apartment, no words were exchanged between you two, and that was okay with you. Natasha always kept food in the apartment and left you an 'allowance' at the end of the month, maybe this was her way of showing you that she still cared, or maybe she was just doing the minimum.

The ringing of your cell phone in the almost empty kitchen takes you out of your thoughts. You place the coffee mug on the table and reach for the device. 'Auntie Wanda' said the name on the screen and a smile appears on your face automatically. "Hi, dear." It's the first thing you hear when you answer the call, making some of your frustration go away.

"Good morning, Auntie Wanda." You respond, trying not to seem discouraged so that you wouldn't be another burden on Maximoff's life, but it seemed like she always knew when something was wrong with you. "I called you to see if you wanted to spend Christmas with us?" She asks. You really have nothing against Wanda's family - now made up of Vision and their twins, Billy and Tommy -, you just felt that being around them during that festive season that was supposed to be spent among families was like you were an intruder at the moment.

"Oh." You stop for a moment. It was obvious that you wanted to, but the guilt grew even more in you for invading that family. "I don't- I think I'll just stay here today."

"I'm not taking that for an answer!" She laughs, making you roll your eyes but with a smile on your face. "The kids miss you and I even bought matching pajamas for us!"

"Right, right! I want to spend Christmas with you, Auntie Wanda." You speak, hearing your aunt's excited screams on the other end of the call. "Vision will pick you up in... one hour. Okay?" You hummed for her quickly saying goodbye to go pack your things before your Uncle Vision shows up at the door to get you.

After hearing Wanda say that they really wanted you that holiday season, something in you lit up. Maybe Christmas isn't that bad, you just haven't experienced the good part of it. The part where you feel loved by the people around you and who really care about you.

You put your backpack on your back with some things you would probably need if you wanted to spend Christmas away from home. You put on your headphones, stopping for a few seconds to choose a song, but the sound of keys in the front door made you completely stop what you were doing. Natasha was finally home. A part of you thought that maybe she would be back to spend Christmas with you, but you knew deep down that it was impossible.

She enters the living room and looks at you, who was still looking at your phone choosing some music. Your mother looks at the backpack and the shoes next to you that you were still putting on, making her tilt her head. "Where are you going?"

You frown. "Auntie Wanda invited me to spend Christmas at her house." Why? Why do you care? - you almost asked, but decided to just keep your head down, not laying your eyes on her.

"Are you going to walk there?" You see from the corner of your eyes Natasha crossing her arms.

"No. Uncle Vision will come get me in a bit." You reach for your shoes next to you and start putting them on a little faster than usual, perhaps trying to escape that uncomfortable moment where you and your mother finally exchange a few words after more than two weeks.

She nods. "Um... do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" Natasha murmurs, making you finally lay your eyes on her.

"Why do you care now?"

“... Because you’re my daughter, Y/n.”

"Daughter? You know you've done really good ignoring me my whole life." You remain calm and with a low voice, getting up from the sofa and collecting your things.

Natasha takes a deep breath. "Okay, then you can come back with Vision or something." She uncrosses her arms and leaves the living room, heading towards the kitchen. Excellent. When your mother finally gives you some attention, you ruin everything, as always. You roll your eyes and head out of the apartment. The quicker you get away from her, the less guilty you feel.

[...]

"I missed you so much!" Wanda hugged you tightly as you hugged back, making you laugh.

"I saw you last week, Auntie Wanda." You say. She rolls her eyes before running the palm of her hand through your hair and ruffling it.

"Yes, and it's a long time!" She kisses your forehead and holds your hand, pulling you through the large house towards the living room, where the twins were. "Come on, the boys missed you." You laugh at her enthusiasm, feeling loved by that family.

"Y/n!" The boys shout your name when they see you. They quickly get up from the sofa and throw themselves on top of you, hugging you.

You mess up their hair, imitating your Auntie Wanda's action from earlier. They lead you towards their toys, making you sit on the floor and play with them. You did this without any complaints, because you adored the twins and deep down, you considered them your little brothers, consequently considering Wanda as your mother too - but you would never tell any of them that.

"I'm so excited for Santa to bring our presents!" Billy says as he moves one of his toys through the air. “What did you ask for Christmas this year, Y/n?”

You didn't know what to answer: the truth ruining their Christmas or lying? You obviously chose the second option. "I didn't ask for anything. We don't have a Christmas tree at home, so Santa can't bring me what I ask for." You make up anything, trying not to talk about how the old man hadn't been in your life for a long time.

"Do you think if we put a letter from you here at home he would bring your gift tonight?" Tommy asks. You place one of their toy characters next to another, as if they were fighting.

"I don't think so. Santa Claus has probably already seen all the things the kids want. But it's okay, you two don't need to worry about that," You speak to them. "you guys need to worry about... the tickle monster!" You 'attack' the two boys with tickles, making them laugh until they can't take it anymore. Billy and Tommy get up and start running around the house, screaming at you.

Wanda and Vision, who were hugging each other sitting on the sofa, laugh at the three of you. You get up from the floor and fix your clothes. "I'll find you two! Don't hesitate to run!" You speak loudly to them as they continue to run around. Wanda looks at you lovingly, making you feel at home.

That Christmas Eve was incredible. You watched a lot of Christmas movies and it seemed like every time someone did something affectionate towards you, all your problems would go away and that parental void would gradually be filled. "Come on, Y/n! We have to go to sleep or Santa won't show up with our presents!" Billy says as he jumps on his bed excited to wake up in the morning and see all his orders under the Christmas tree.

You were ready to go to bed in the guest room, which for years could be considered your own room in the Maximoff's house. "Okay, I'm leaving!" You laugh at the boy, leaving a kiss on his forehead and saying goodnight. The other boy, on the contrary, had already been under the covers for a few minutes, probably dreaming about the next morning.

You walk towards the door seeing your Auntie Wanda looking at you affectionately as she waited for you to say goodnight to the boys. You close the door and walk with her to the guest room - or yours. "I'm glad you agreed to spend Christmas here." She says, sitting next to you on the bed.

"Me too. You guys make me like this kind of festive season."

"You know you're always welcome here, right? The twins even see you as a big sister." Wanda tilts her head, looking at you deeply.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I feel like I raised you all your life for them to feel this way." You lower your head looking at your sock covered feet with Santa. "You did and I'm glad you did it. I can't imagine myself without at least a little affection from someone older."

"I will always take care of you, my love." She leans in and leaves a kiss on your head, stroking your hair subtly. "Now, go to sleep or Santa Claus won't show up!" You laugh, rolling your eyes at her before getting under the covers.

[...]

"Y/n wake up!" The door is opened brutally as the boys run towards him on the bed. You grunt as they start jumping on your bed and screaming your name. "We need to see if Santa brought our presents!" Billy shakes your body making you laugh briefly.

"So, let's go!" You get out of bed, pushing the two screaming boys towards the door again. Wanda and Vision were outside laughing at the three of you again.

The boys run towards the stairs, almost falling on the way. You follow the twins to the living room and when they get there, Tommy and Billy's eyes light up when they see the Christmas tree filled with gifts with different colored wrappers underneath it. They run towards the presents before looking with lost puppy eyes at their parents. "Can we open them now? Please!" Tommy asks Vision and Wanda who were walking towards their children.

"Of course you can."

The boys' parents and you sit on the big sofa in the living room, watching Billy and Tommy open their toys. With each gift opened, they ran in front of you to show you each present - with you having reactions of interest to the objects. At the end of that mess of gift wrappers and toys thrown around the living room there were still two big presents under the Christmas tree, but you were too distracted by the boys showing you the toys to notice.

"Oh, I think there are still two gifts missing." Wanda says, making you smile at the boys knowing how excited they are to open more presents. "But you've already opened all yours, haven't you?" She says to the twins, who smile widely at her, nodding in agreement. "I think it's for the other child here."

They all look at you, making you frown. "For me...? But I-"

"Open your presents, Y/n!" Billy rushes you, making you shrug and walk towards the gifts with a little nervousness. You hadn't done this in so long, you didn't even know how to react to this kind of thing. You place the smallest of them on your lap, looking at the small tag written in pretty handwriting glued to the wrapping paper.

'From: Mom Wanda, Dad Vision

and your two little brothers,

Tommy and Billy

To: The Brilliant and Lovable Y/n'

Y/n looked around the room, her eyes settling on the smiling figures that now filled the space. For the first time, you felt the comforting warmth of belonging.

You turn to the first gift, delicately opening the light blue wrapping. You gasp when you see three vinyl records of your favorite albums. Recently, Vision had given you the record player that he kept but was barely used along with an album by The Beatles. You spent hours and hours listening to the same album that Vision gave you, since you didn't have much money saved to buy others. But now, you could listen to three more full albums.

"Oh- my God!" You shake your head. You look down at the vinyl records on your lap, looking like you've seen something magical. "This is- thank you so, so much! I can't believe it!"

"You're welcome, dear." Wanda says with a large smile on her face. "Now open the other one."

You had a gigantic smile on your face, delicately placing your three new vinyl records on the floor, immediately picking up your other gift. "I didn't need any of this, really." You murmur to the elders in the living room. Wanda shakes her head and moves her hands for you to open your last gift.

You again gently remove the purple wrapping from a slightly heavier box. When you open the lid your eyes widen at the things inside. You start to take out canvases, brushes, paints and many other drawing things from the box. Your eyes sparkled with your new materials. You loved drawing and painting in your daily life, you usually spent drawing and listening to vinyl music, that helped you concentrate on what you were doing and not think abou your life too much.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" You were almost crying with happiness when you received all those things.

The family setting was new, but the feeling of safety and love was overwhelming. You realized that you were no longer alone, that now there was someone to share your joys and sadness. The emotion showed in your smile and teary eyes, because you had finally found an emotional home and people who loved you. You wanted to cry because when you received those things, you finally realized that those people cared about you.

You didn't hate Christmas. You didn't hate all the celebrations. You didn't hate seeing the twins opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Now you had that too. Maybe now you just had a normal family. Or maybe it didn't matter who gave birth to you. Who really mattered were the people who care about you, who really love you. And the magic of Christmas really was inside you somewhere, and that family managed to bring it back.

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itsnotmourn · 3 months ago

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rambles on the sm7 sneakpeaks

IM FREE IM OUT OF CLASS ok let me ramble and be incorrect

santa claus found in the woods

this could hint a lot of things at the same:

main setting is in the forest

as it's been revealed that the characters will be wearing winter wear and that it's in the northen hemisphere, the timeframe is (nearing) christmas

the missing kids will be found in the forest by the police and/or parents at the end

related to the cult, a dead body is discovered (which will appear irrelevant until you get to the fungus ant)

santa dies again rip

chowder va forth-wall break

a screenshot from chowder (see youtube link) where the forth wall is broken; i hope something similar happens in the episode! probably due to the psychedelic mushrooms

and/or maybe because they were found dirty (i know the below was a simple joke, i was thinking this to be a continuation of the joke ahah)

gumball reference

well known for its multi-stylisation of characters (both 2D and 3D), i wonder if the kids, through their hallucinations, will get a moment of 3D too lol

otherwise, no idea

doom screenshot

uhmmm no idea specifically but doom is a game (links back to kids hallucinating dnd sessions) + doom as a concept (cult is mostly a doomsday cult)

ophiocordyceps unilateralis + ants

a foreshadowing of zombies apocalypse in later episodes (which has longtime been hinted at in doodles and such). i'm not certain if there will be an emphasis on this in the episode but rather something sneaky at the end

defeating the zombies may be a challenge as it has spores (aka the number of zombies will increase quick from spores AND (or maybe) the classic bite-infection). the fungus thrives in warmer/humid temperatures so if there is a zombie apocalypse... best it not be in summer!

i won't be surprised if the spooky month fungus is just a fictional/inspired one though!

singer + singing in the rain

woah..... musical..... no idea really

edit: actually. maybe the kids hear singing in the woods, which leads to the hansel and gretel themes and explains why they were inside a building

maybe it rains a little bit while the kids are in the forest which explains the next point:

peanut butter baby going ah

brown reminds me of mud + the characters being in the forest during winter + new ref sheets including a "dirty" variation (found on public twitch stream) -> kids will probably be found dirty as a result

game screenshot

no idea what this is from but it affirms my dnd belief with the class system of mages/rogues/warrior etc.

psilocin on winter background

psilocin is found in most psychedelic mushrooms with a notable side effect being visual hallucinations.

lots of mushrooms today! makes sense considering this sneakpeak that pelo has shared with us (sneaky mushroom at ross' foot).

my thinking is that the kids accidentally stumble upon some mushrooms, which makes them hallucinate them into believing they are in a DND-inspired world

hinted at with D20 dice gif pelo sent + the most recent public twitch stream where pelo revealed that DND will be involved, renamed as TNT)

(and while of course not every person will have the same experiences, i think what happens is that they will all influence the other lmao)

and then winter background for the winter setting

granny frump

known to be a witch and likes playing tricks, probable hint of the antagnoist of the episode though i wonder if the tree has more villainous value

likely a witch character because the episode has themes around hansel and gretel

and this public sneakpeak continues that thinking

though, i wonder if the witch and candy house shenanigans were also hallucinated

the maid

idk my first thought is carmen and richard lol the wealthy bastards

en familia con chabelo

children's and family television show; no idea about this!

scooby-doo

idk maybe the kids get chased which manifests this classic reference

birch trees and eyes

always have been referenced about with the cult, really

i can't remember where so i might be pulling this out of my ass: the eyes has been referred/mistaken to as a tree/forest somewhere ??? idk. might explain why skidad was a woodcarver

there's also this so

i wonder if any of the eye markings start following characters... spooky...

parents and kids

a lot of people are speculating that this will be a pump/susie parent reveal (note the family gender and possibility of christmas which means parents coming over for the holidays)

i ALSO think it's a general hint of parents reuniting with their missing kids. considering the picture, perhaps pump and susie are last ones to be picked up, watching everyone else with their mother/father except them

but at least grandpa is there, hopefully

marisa from touhou

points again with maid outfit + witch theme... maybe marisa (or coughs mary) cameo in the background again :]

#k bye this is why i dont make theories because i cant think #i believe everything here is public information; send me an ask asap if there is something that is patreon only!#[ mourn's mourns ]#spooky month #spooky month 7

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fellthemarvelous · 1 year ago

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Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

#autistic coded character #religious trauma #good omens #aziraphale #aziraphale defense squad #i'm in a mood #like i'm begging y'all to learn what empathy is #like goddamn i know i'm not perfect but at least i don't forget that the reason for everything in good omens is love #neil has said this several times #it's one thing to dislike a character #it's another to assassinate characters in ways that blatantly contradict what the narrative has told us #and try to pass it off as canon #if you wanna send me hate just hit the block button instead #i'll try to be really sad about it #and if you just have to send me hatemail at least have the courage to attach it to your name instead of hiding behind anon #i'm too old for this shit #i'm gonna go back to the star wars tag now #it's been a minute since i went off and today proved to be the perfect day for it

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 2 years ago

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I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - i feel like this idea is really cute and just had to be written down:)

word count - 1.4k

in which, when you and harry are putting the christmas presents under the tree on christmas eve, with harry dressed up in a santa costume just for his own novelty, and share a little moment to themselves, unbeknownst to them that there four year old son arlo, was watching the whole time.

00:13am. 25th December, 2023.

On this whimsical Christmas Eve, the air is infused with the scent of pine and anticipation as you and your husband Harry, donned in a jolly Santa suit purely for his own delight, tiptoe around the cozy living room.

The soft glow of twinkling lights casts a warm ambiance, enveloping the space in a serene holiday magic.

Upstairs in the master bed, your precious four-year-old, Arlo, is lost in dreams of sugarplums and toy-filled wonderlands.

As his dreams weave their gentle tapestry, you and Harry share mischievous smiles, conspirators in the clandestine mission to deliver presents beneath the twinkling Christmas tree.

In the quietude of the night, laughter bubbles between you and Harry, a shared joy that needs no reason. Silently, you exchange glances, finding amusement in the simple joy of being together on this enchanting night. The muffled laughter dances in the air, a secret language spoken in the hushed tones of love.

The presents, adorned with festive paper and ribbons, find their places beneath the tree like treasures awaiting discovery. With each shared giggle, you and Harry weave invisible threads of happiness, wrapping the room in the warmth of familial love.

The task at hand becomes a delightful game of stealth and joy. Harry, in his Santa suit, moves with a festive grace, and you follow suit, your hearts synchronized in the shared delight of creating magic for Arlo. Laughter, sweet and spontaneous, becomes the soundtrack to this festive ballet.

Beside the twinkling evergreen, Arlo's offerings for Santa and his reindeer beckon: a plate adorned with mince pies and a bunch of crisp carrot for Rudolph.

Harry, ever the good sport in his Santa attire, merrily takes a bite of the sweet, spiced pie, savoring the festive flavor with genuine delight.

Meanwhile, you opt for the crunchy carrots, enjoying their crisp freshness. The contrast of flavours mirrors the yuletide spirit, blending the sweetness of the mince pies with the earthy simplicity of the carrots.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the offering of milk. Harry, with a theatrical flourish, lifts the glass to his lips, only to be met with a cringe as the chilly liquid meets his tongue. The milk, left out for Santa's refreshment, bears the unmistakable chill of a night spent waiting. The internal wince is evident on Harry's face, though he valiantly soldiers on, determined not to let a bit of cold milk dampen the festive mood.

As you stand in the hushed glow of the Christmas tree, satisfied smiles exchanged with Harry, a sense of completion washes over you. The presents are arranged, the festive treats enjoyed, and the world outside is wrapped in a blanket of silent snow. It feels like the perfect moment to retire to bed, where dreams of sugarplums can join the night's symphony.

But just as you entertain the idea of slipping under the warm covers, Harry, in his Santa suit, wraps his arms around your waist with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His lips press gentle kisses against your neck, creating a trail of warmth that contrasts the cool air of the room. You can't help but laugh, a delighted sound that dances in the quietude.

"M’not quite ready f’bed yet," he murmurs against your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "If I go now, I'll just get kicked in the back by ‘Lo, and I'll end up with no quilt."

The unexpected declaration sends a ripple of laughter through you, and you playfully turn around in his embrace. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" you tease, your lips curving into a smile.

In the gentle dance of shared laughter and lingering gazes, you both revel in the magic of the moment. The Christmas lights cast a soft glow on Harry's face, accentuating the warmth in his eyes. His lips meet yours in a brief but tender kiss, a sweet punctuation to the unspoken joy that fills the room.

"M’suppose bedtime can wait a bit longer," he concedes, his arms tightening around you. "After all, who could resist the allure f’a quiet, magical Christmas night?"

In the gentle glow, Harry's eyes meet yours with a magnetic pull, and the world outside seems to vanish. His arms envelop you, creating an intimate cocoon that shields you from the outside world. The soft strains of holiday tunes linger, providing a subtle backdrop to the unspoken language of desire that fills the room.

The air is thick with a sweet tension as Harry's lips find yours in a series of passionate kisses, each one deepening the connection between you. Both of you smiling into each others mouths, your hands find the peach fuzz at the back of head neck, whilst his find habitat on the groove of your bum.

The room transforms into a haven of shared intimacy, where the only language spoken is that of desire, and every touch is a brushstroke in the masterpiece of this moment.

The heat of the moment intensifies as you lose yourselves in the magnetic pull of each other. The world outside continues its hushed existence, oblivious to the crescendo of emotions echoing within the room.

The bed, usually shared with the comforting presence of his parents, felt empty, and a sense of curiosity tugged at his tiny heart. Arlo, with his baby blanket in tow, embarked on a solo journey down the hallway.

The plush carpet beneath his little feet muffled his steps as he approached the top of the stairs. The house was still cloaked in the tranquillity of the evening, and Arlo, with wide eyes and tousled hair, peered down into the living room below.

A strange sound caught his attention, and he instinctively clutched his blanket a bit tighter.

At the bottom of the stairs, a tableau unfolded. His mother, adorned in her pajamas, was locked in an embrace with Santa Claus—or so it seemed. Arlo's innocent gaze widened, his imagination dancing with the possibility that Santa himself had arrived early to share a moment with his mom.

The festive glow of the Christmas tree provided an ethereal backdrop to the unexpected scene.

Unaware that the figure beneath the Santa suit was, in fact, his dad, Harry, Arlo continued to observe with a mixture of awe and confusion.

08:21am. 25th December, 2023.

The Christmas morning sun spilled into the kitchen, casting a golden hue on the day's festivities. As you walked in with Arlo nestled on your hip, the air buzzed with the promise of holiday magic.

However, a quiet tension lingered as Arlo, unusually reserved, gazed around the room with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Harry, donned in a festive apron, stood at the stove, the sizzle of eggs providing a comforting backdrop to the scene. Arlo's silence persisted, his little mind undoubtedly preoccupied with the mysterious encounter from the previous night.

As you settled into the kitchen routine, the atmosphere held a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. Arlo's wide eyes shifted between you and Harry, his silence becoming a palpable presence in the room.

The bewilderment in his gaze hinted at the lingering confusion from witnessing the unexpected kiss with Santa Claus.

With each passing moment, the unspoken question hung in the air. Harry, flipping eggs with a practised ease, stole a glance at Arlo, sensing the inner turmoil of his young son. The parental instinct to reassure tugged at your heart as you navigated the morning, your steps mindful of the unspoken query hanging in the air.

After the hearty Christmas breakfast, Arlo, still harbouring the mystery from the previous night, toddled over to Harry.

His little arms reached up, a silent request to be lifted. Harry, ever the doting dad, scooped him up onto his hip, planting a cascade of playful kisses on Arlo's cheek. The room echoed with the sounds of affectionate giggles.

As Arlo settled into Harry's arms, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing around to ensure that you were nowhere in sight. Satisfied that the conversation would be just between him and his dad, Arlo took a deep breath, his eyes serious.

"I have something to tell you, Daddy," Arlo announced in a hushed voice, leaning in as if sharing a grand secret.

Harry, playfully intrigued, raised an eyebrow and encouraged him to spill the beans.

With an air of importance, Arlo whispered, "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus."

The words hung in the air, and a mischievous sparkle lit up his eyes. Harry's reaction, however, was unexpected.

A loud, hearty laugh erupted from Harry's chest, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Arlo, momentarily perplexed, couldn't help but join in the infectious laughter. Harry, wiping away an imaginary tear, managed to compose himself and leaned in with mock seriousness.

Harry brought his face closer to his mini-me and brought his voice to a quiet mock whisper.

“Tell m’more.”

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